May 24th, 2006

hat

Dislocation

Every so often life starts to feel like Groundhog's Day. Get up, go to work, go home. Do laundry, buy toothpaste, floss. Boredom is a luxury, but it can also be slow death. I'm always on the lookout for cheap ways to dislocate. Oblique strategies are a good bet-- pick a card, interpret. Or you can hop on your bike and get lost in the city. One of the best tactics though is to just stay up.

Sleep deprivation is a great way to get ideas. Also a good way to get tumors. Lack of sleep kills 9 out of 10 lab rats. I think maybe even 10 out of 10. Extreme fatigue stupifies and intoxicates to the point where you can't finish your sentences, or focus on sharp edges, or... do other things. I forget where I was going with this.

Today I realized that writing in the margins of I.D. magazine is much easier than writing on blank paper. It helps that I.D is filled with advertisements congratulating you on not being suckered by advertisements, and profiles of design firms who say things like this:

"You can't design an experience. People create their own."

Word to mothra! I proceeded to create my own experience, which was to draw Hitler mustaches on everybody in the magazine. Then on page 24 I came to an interview with a futurologist from Brooklyn. In his new book he predicts that civilization will collapse by 2012. The interview was pretty boring.

Q: What does the future look like to you?
A: Blah blah blah biosphere blah blah global warming population blah blah blah

I crossed out his response and wrote instead: "Machines made of people, and vice versa." At the time when I wrote this it seemed very clever, but now I'm not sure. Corporations are machines made of people, people are machines made out of steroids and pacemakers and unsavory pumps.

The skin around my skull is stretched tight.
All I ate today was tangerines.
In the evening I swept everything off my desktop and set it to 1600x1200, pure white.