#itrustthisprogram

I

You can’t touch me on soundcloud. Well maybe a bit with your digi click.

Finger me a little, listen to me a little then move on to the next one before I’ve even finished.

 Next track, click her a little. Play/pause. Again move on before she’s even finished. It’s too long. You can’t withstand that duration.

 I’m *closer* to your ears now. Your HD headphones and my updated 320kbps. You can’t hold me tho. I’m through the wire, like Ethernet wire or wifi even. Is this freedom? Only a bit. But still better.

 I wear less these days. It’s empowering. I’m stronger.

 Harder to wear down a digital signal. There isn’t a stylus pricking into me and scratching and marking and branding me at every cycle.            

 You play me online, yeah. But I can be deleted and disappear and #bye. I’m a streamed mp4. Free and easy to access, temporarily, but not to have or own or cut and splice.

 You can listen to me without having to own me. You don’t HAVE to buy me to hear me and I’m oh, so glad.  You don’t have to hold me and I’m glad. I’m ephemeral, beyond physical object/body/space and you like that and actually so do I. I wasn’t inserted into your machine and played by your machine at your will n that. I’m not a vinyl, babe. I’m s/o that. I’m uploaded when I want then taken down when I want and then #bye. I’m only a temporary gal. I’m a digi gal. I’m a stream.

 Think: http.me.url not found. this page no longer exists.

II

and i’m QTer now. cos you can’t get me. you missed me. I was on yr last iOS update. #bye. you got a new ping for your emails now.

 and i’m QTer *now* (as in 21st cent)  cos you can’t even touch my body. i’m no tape played on some machine. i’m all codes n stuff. so cryptic, dreamy and mysterious. you couldn’t rly read me without loads of training every week as i update constantly. cya.

 and i’m QTer now n forever. cos you’ll probs forget me, get used to iOS 9 n that. i’m forgettable trash. digi trash. there’s not even some ‘hold-able’ evidence of my presence. and it’s better. i’m not yours. i’m mine. you don’t know me anymore. i’m gone.

 and i’m QTer tho still sad for the other sound gals, ur tapes. you fetishise them and you touch their vintage plastic and you hear their voices, they wear and get weaker each time you play them. and you tell everyone about them, your collection. how you adore them. how there’s just *something* about them that makes them more…*real*. their imperfections/weaknesses/wearability makes them so *relatable*. you only ~get~ them when they’re weak. when you feel you’re better than.

 and i’m QTer but still scared. maybe you ripped me or downloaded me. at least you can’t hold my non-existent body. but you’ll still mp4 my *soul*. just that. and maybe that’s worse. keeping a bunch of codes n sounds but never understanding my interface, my language and my temporal #2k15 computer of the moment body. objectifying my mind/thoughts/calls now and always. making me permanent. not letting me disappear at my own will into the vast online. policing more than my body. your copy of my body. one you made/stole/whatever. and maybe i’m done being a soundkween. maybe i’m done being ever.

 *takes down file*. Error.