Recursion is that which contains its own excitement

The noise intrigues me, in all its lucid calamities. Static fuzz. Perlin generators. Moire waves reaching across the monitor. Even grit, grime, soot, and splatter — smeared gloriously across a dingy dirtplex of lo-fi.

I think of cities. Cities which had a purpose, had people to fulfill that purpose. But then the ends were achieved, and the means moved on. I think of mythical Detroit colliding through the ages, auto-making machines informing techno music progress. How normal we see it now, how stereotyped ravers in a dark warehouse have become.

But how strange it was then.

I see myself within myself within myself, folding space, crumpling time. Taking dirty snapshots of a clean world, then feeding it back in to gloriously pollute its purist veins.

Cyberpunk tropes: the vertical division between the stink of the underbelly and the sleek apartments overhead. A passive struggle of the classes. Subways below, skytrains above, and even further up, transmitter towers broadcasting the feed to the many who wish they couldn’t care, but do anyway.

Just when you think you’ve come a far way, you’ve gone back in time.

Tagged as: Cyber-History, General, Ideas, Pictures