Let us not forget that a driver of evolution is competition for resources.
You are someone’s food.
(Note: I don’t think Twitter necessarily ‘cheated’ Meerkat out of anything, I’m sure their chances are as good as ever at being this years model, but this does stand as an object lesson about the rat king we turn two in obeisance daily.)
The gryphon from the Essex House welcome mat has torn free
A doorman was killed and windows smashed along Park Avenue South
including Hampshire House. A venture capitalist was seized,
walking out of the barre studio and spa, by talons the size of backhoes,
he’s dangling now from it’s beak as it perches on the spire atop the Sherry Nederland building…
Charlie Rose clutches his chest on the sidewalk below.
A black teenager throws a tight packed slushy snowball into the throng gathering on the steps of the Plaza hotel,
striking an off duty cop on security detail for Taylor Swift.
The boy is simultaneously shot and tased by various members of law enforcement.
Crispus Attucks’ phantom pulls free from the earth miles away on Tremont Street.
I tip the coffee cart fifty-cents on my buck fifty coffee…
This may be the best bit of writing on boyhood.
And the movie, you know, Aliens.
This is a class I would love (and will, in fact follow) to take.
It smashes among other things right into what I hope to use technology to do — like the picture above. I pull that picture out whenever I start to lose my bearings. We should be entertained, delighted, eased. (Not, I might add, anesthetized.)
Ian Bogost, who for some clearly biased reason I assume doesn’t have to deal with the kind of weird office cultures and practices that I do, has pretty much nailed the “FWD:”
I have an ongoing battle (internal as well as through actions) over directness and clarity. There is simply not enough of it, and in this context particularly, the modern ‘workplace’. I worry, sincerely I do WORRY — this literally kept me up the other night — that we are neck deep in some kind of delusional manipulation and we have lost the plot, that these are the last days.
The section below from Charlie Brooker’s 2014 Wipe seems to sum up what I’m seeing on the local, daily stage — not just at my workplace but from the sounds of things EVERYWHERE…
I am relieved to find that I am not so old, not so jaded, not so distant from my previous selves as to find myself unmoved at this:
Sixteen years, though? Sixteen?
Of course, I am so old, so jaded, but not at all distant from my previous self that I can’t fail to comment that the original BOOK was used as a business tool by the earlier we, those who thought we’d all end up in gold collar jobs, before it became clear that there were lines being drawn that weren’t as easy to cross as we hoped, that we were all playing a lottery. We thought we were stepping onto the set of Star Trek and it turns out to be Neuromancer.
That said — let’s see what we can move before we are moved off, eh?