Eat My Technology

Feels like sunstorms. Everyone's alarm clock got fucked up for a few days. A few roofs caved in. These things went unnoticed, even in the light. Do you see all of the self there? It invaded. You see all of yourself that chooses not to hide. There are plenty of ceremonies for you to attend. Not all of them occur while you are alive. Meet the makers.

I had been sitting there, unmoving, for almost three hours. The cats were full of nervous energy. They tried to open things and one of them got jealous of a newspaper. It took him a long time to figure out that it was a bed. He made it bigger and bigger. Pulled himself across the world. Every picture taken was useful. It was impossible to predict the final composition in which they would all be arranged. They just looked out the window, waiting to see if it was coming.
I do remember how I got here. It is a long story. Seven days of rest.

"I can't just run wild."

"No, you have to be good at it."

Cleanliness and health only. Dr. Only says language divides into "good" and "evil". Purity through architecture? His 'solution' generated a lot of controversy because it necessitated the end of all life as we know it. He insisted that the people take the apocalypse into their own hands. Surely writing is easy; it's the editing that's the hard part.

Wars are not fought for survival. I could learn how to shoot a gun. But who will teach me how to kill? Anglogold wants to send me to South Africa. I believe there is pure gold inside of me. I tell them that war is murder. It is safer to use your smarts.

For the first and last time in history, God is in the White House. His face is full of cocaine and frozen margaritas. The more fucked up he gets, the more he fits in. The more he notices how everyone around him is way more fucked up than he'll ever be. They advertise sin everywhere, which would be great if it were true. But there's none to be found. Only desperation, which keeps them hungry and coming back for more.

He's making a killing at the roulette table. Drinks all around. His friends have sharp teeth. Their smiles have the opposite effect. He's gotten away with murder so far, but how long can his luck hold out?

"Cash out, Mr. President. Cash out now before you lose it all. If we cash out now we'll get away scot free."

"Four more years, please."

"Shit. Now we're sitting ducks, Mr. President. You've fucked us."

"I will not lose."

When did I write this? Before it happened? Or after?

"Look around you kid. Can't you sense the gathering crisis? It is the dream preparing to explode into reality."

"Whose dream would that be? The Pilgrim's?"

"The wheels and gears are turning, always turning. The question is, how does one make it stop? Here are your fellow brothers and sisters, repeatedly throwing themselves upon the flaming sword of the angel. With revolutions it is always the workers who suffer the most. But that's all part of the contract you signed. I am a mind living in sin with the soul of Abraham. Thus, I have knowledge and assurance of the two truths that were revealed in the Garden. I am aware of both truths at once:

a. that there is no god; and
b. that there must be a god."

"I don't know if you saw it but the latest issue of Entertainment Weekly has a cover story announcing that god is dead."

"In response to that, I announce that man is dead. Entertainment Now!"

Then the reaction followed quickly. The idea was so bizarre, so absurd, that I felt inclined to laugh. But the laughter came no more readily than the cry, for the knowledge that my mind was so receptive to such dangerous imaginings brought the additional terror that it was through our minds and not through our physical bodies that the attack would come, and was coming.