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“You left me stranded, before you came and tried to save me I was floating in the oceans of my mind, occasionally drifting to shore, but you came and thought I needed saving, I could've saved myself, instead of rescuing me you shoved me under the water, pushing me down past the point of no return. Water is filling my lungs, I can not breathe, and if you're not here I'm not even sure if I want to.”
-C.R (I could've saved myself)
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SISTER MANTOS
new song
new video
LIVING MY DREAMS
EUROPEAN TOUR THIS SUMMER
Lunch Break
make two tuna-fish sandwiches (lettuce, Monterey Jack, wheat bread, mustard)
bag of chips
glass of milk
read The New Yorker (talk of the town, the mail)
go outside
roll a nice thin cigarette
smoke it by the dumpster
walk towards the stream
look at the pink shirt hanging in the Ford Escort
think about banality (Data Entry, E-mail)
write about lunch break
think about the nature of documentation/auto-biographical creativity
think about connectivity through content
think about why certain things maintain a depth of meaning while others are shallow and superficial (Ambiguity? Abstraction?)
think about melodrama
think about capitalization
think about names
think about Lunch Break, Marias
Thank You Internet
The sensual perception that we hold, of the incredible depth of the internet, is false. The internet is not only planar but reflective, not a space in itself but a projection of what is exterior to it. The pool of the internet, the dissociated cultural ephemera that we so carefully architecturally sculpt into various forms of pretense and presentation can never swallow us in the way we truly desire. The fantasy of existing within this space is elusive and omnipresent; existing culturally since the first conception of the internet. There is no space in cyberspace and yet we can see it with our eyes and hear it with our ears and touch it and change it with our tools. There is no space in cyberspace yet there is infinite content. The sea and then the stars used to be our infinities. They were the unknown. Now though, our infinities come from within us. Infinitely unfolding cultural constructions move to fill the spaceless yet infinite pool, of the network of networks, the internet. We are bound to explore this shallow yet infinite pool in the way one must scan the horizon from a mountain top. We must know the infinities. Among cyberspace, our minds interpret representational symbols truly as other human beings, yet always, the computer is the other. The computer is our other. It is our unique ability and nature as humans to understand language and symbols not only as the objects they are but also to understand them directly as human beings. To be alone with the internet is to be one with all of humanity. This is a blessing, and a curse. There is no wilderness in cyberspace. The internet is completely and totally human. There is no image, no experience, no system, no architecture that is not a product of the systems of the human mind. There is nothing that is not mediated by man. The mind within the internet is a mind within a mind. The internet is indicative of our movements in the same way tumbling leaves speak about the wind. We float above the plane of the internet like ghosts, touching and finding each-other only by the objects we move and place. Never to truly touch. Never to truly speak. To find love spelled out in patterns instead of in each other. Thank, you, internet. Thank you. I love you. I love, you. I love you, internet. I love you Internet. thank you. I love you. thank, you. I love you I love you I love you Internet. I love you. Thank you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.
