The fact that the "code" is modeled on a procedural programming language, is totally superfluous to the action of a psycho-geographic walk. One could ask, why procedural, why programming, why not a score or a set of instructions? Humans don't inherently operate on pseudo-code, humans relate to code about as much as X-code relates to Acconci's poetry.
The psycho-geographic walk is more related to chance operations, an idea very thoroughly unpacked by Cage and Cunningham. To write it in code without exploring aspects of the experience such as action and space in relation to the body, ritual and architecture, is limiting and gimmicky.
What am I missing? Will somebody please tell me?
Monday, April 27, 2009
Sunday, April 26, 2009
stick it to the man
the notion of monads is one of aristocracy and elitism where a privileged few, tell it like it is, to the teaming masses.
but somehow the me revolution is one based on the idea of monads, that we can all be them now.
i wonder what the resolution will be.
but somehow the me revolution is one based on the idea of monads, that we can all be them now.
i wonder what the resolution will be.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
I hate technology
In the beginning there was craft and the idea,
theory and execution,
now there is the idea, craft and debugging.
theory and execution,
now there is the idea, craft and debugging.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Control Room
I turned my status to invisible for the first time today in gmail.
It was incredible, suddenly I was facing my emails alone and in private. No one knew if I was lingering, idling or actively wasting time on my account. I was in silence.
I of course could still see that other people were on their accounts and what they were doing. In my hidden niche of privacy, sitting silently and spying their on their movements, I never felt so disconnected and lonely, so incorporeal, so imaginary.
Email became electronic mail again which was nice, but the place-likeness of my email account was gone and I became a virtual being.
It was incredible, suddenly I was facing my emails alone and in private. No one knew if I was lingering, idling or actively wasting time on my account. I was in silence.
I of course could still see that other people were on their accounts and what they were doing. In my hidden niche of privacy, sitting silently and spying their on their movements, I never felt so disconnected and lonely, so incorporeal, so imaginary.
Email became electronic mail again which was nice, but the place-likeness of my email account was gone and I became a virtual being.
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