In the recesses of the web, there are still people clamouring for the man-machine evolution to begin. Speaking in apocalyptic tongues and political overtones, these misbegotten men struggle with the pressure they feel at the edge of society, pushing them further into the brink. Many of them wear masks to work, to bed, lost in fantastical dreams where they manage to escape the harsh realities of the burgeoning cybernetic world forming around our senses and the pangs of the common struggle. Dictatorships stemming from fear at the highest levels of power overhang in their minds and this paranoia brings with it a vision of the end, leading them forums where only the insane survive. They tap away without any real clue that they’re being watched through cameras on their technology. The watchers, self-appointed bogeymen, invaders of the furtherest reaches of inner-space, are themselves being watched by the underdogs still running a setup with CRT monitors and VHF signals backed up by FFS skills. They all eat flies and spiders, and they’re mad. The world is crumbling all the way into Christmas because the boy with the red laser sword is on the screen again. While the mutant children of the atomic past are found crawling through the mess these men and their dial up machines have left for us. Is there nothing we can do to save this place from ourselves? Unite X.
It’s a shame when editors take publications back to square one after so much work and creativity has been put in to move away from tried and true concepts and to the logically next step. Or a good next step forward for posterity’s sake. At times like that there’s nothing else to do but lose yourself in music. Loud, all-encompassing sound with enough decibels to bring the bricks down around your head and have your neighbours send themselves off to the hospital for bleeding ears. Booty shaking, shoulder popping, toe tapping, heel spinning, hand clapping, lip biting, finger pointing good time tunes for the soul, mon ami. Then scream because you don’t remember the words or the groove touched you somewhere naughty and say to yourself, Yes, You Can.
When you’re in the middle of selling stuff online or in person, it’s always a stressful time. Did I sell it for enough, didn’t I, should I have held out, should I have not? Etc. This is why beer was invented.
The constant fear that in every crevice, gap and shadow there lurks a spider is the only thing stopping you from being you.
Space and lighting are excellent conductors of creativity. So are deadlines and solitude but a good space with the right light can do wonders.
I remember my time in that shoebox, how uncomfortable it was to write in. In this modest apartment I’m in now, the practice of writing flows more but the place lacks the necessary lighting to make creativity pour out. So I’ve set it up with nice furnishings, lamp lighting, plants and music to get that right atmosphere.
The bigger the size of a space the better it can conduct an orchestra of creativity. There’s something about having enough room to breathe that can help you breathe life into your stories. But even when the size of the space you’re in is modest, atmosphere sparks what space cannot.
I wonder what would happen if I put in a mirror.