August 23rd, 2004

Cthulhu Joyce

Incompetent Luddite

I am engaged like the luddite,
compacting moments into
a spectrum of personal discovery
and interdependent social interaction.
Time, spread before us like sorghum
just wilting in the heat,
gives off the faint aroma of molasses -
a mark of childhood fully realized.
I do not deride my computer
for taking more time than it saves
but allow it the freedom to absorb
fractions of body with mind, split
mage-like, between the task at hand
and the freedom to wander
the Leibnitzian hierarchy. I, monad
of monads, shun technology
that does not let me function in two worlds.
I occupy time twice, once for me and twice
for myself. Flip the switch off
and jack into the world.
  • Current Mood
    happy happy
Cthulhu Joyce

Δfxλ = Physics of Emotion

"We are the robots." - Kraftwerk

Computers are a euphemism
for social interaction.
Electricity provides a buffer
from full emotional
attachment and presents
too much room
for interpretation, not jacking in.
Internalizing the computer
is falsifying a rich world
of purifying intention - jacking off.

When I say "Hi,"
I do not expect
"What the hell do you mean by that?"
Hearing no voice, no frequency
or amplitude differentials,
is blasphemy coming on torpid waters.
Attenuation of hearing, waveless and dull,
and sightless expression leads us to blind
cliffs.

We are no longer evolving
or we would have extra sensory emotional
attunement. But, I can still piss you off
with a quick turn of phrase
Computers remove the physics of emotive
interaction
and build with it the stagnation
of human affairs.
  • Current Mood
    enthralled scientific
Cthulhu Joyce

Promise land

I am the promise land.
We are barren husks,
dessicated people
on an apocalyptic horizon.
We built my cities from
spears of military destiny,
and exist in hollow shells.

My promise land is built in a day;
it will come without struggle.
It will resonate with pushed buttons.

No harem of virgins to slake thirsts;
only tumorous clouds and
endless vistas hallowed
by nuclear winter. The only survivors
are the skeletons in our closets.
  • Current Mood
    creative creative