doom.
my soul rests in different places. In text files, hard drives, scrap paper, notebooks, websites that will never be visited and songs that will never be listened to. Immortally forgotten.
〰️
my soul rests in different places. In text files, hard drives, scrap paper, notebooks, websites that will never be visited and songs that will never be listened to. Immortally forgotten. 〰️
-This private conversation will be published.-
All art, destined for oblivion.
A portfolio for sale. Portion of one.
Copies.
A mind for sale. Portion of one.
Portraits.
Ephemeral eternity. In a hard drive.
Genies.
Black market drives of the dead.
Catacombs. Fossils.
Deleted.
[escapes]
“In the end, Nothing.”
Human and terminal is some weird symbiotic relationship. I cannot do my artistic things without it. I can’t paint in a program without it, I can’t get my thoughts down quick enough without destroying my right hand further without it. I am some kind of cyborg parasitic beast. The computer and I are one [laugh]. How horrific.
Ever present, within arms reach- never lost, never without. One cannot live without the terminal. Computer mind. Mind lives in the computer now.
Computer Guardian Angel. Savior. God. Shape.
I’m going to go be a cowboy now
9:20pm