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In case you were
still among the few people who don't believe this world is ruled by an
insane creature driven to gibbering madness by the vertiginous sensation
of containing an ever-expanding universe, consider this: I put an online
webcam under my desk and already over a thousand people a week stop by
to look at my feet. Sometimes I, in turn, go to the 11350-22666
webcam to see if Nancy is online while I'm broadcasting my inane feetvision,
but she never is. She probably clicks off the beaten path sometimes to
peek in someone else's lit online windows, a similarly guilty voyeuristic
pleasure. Meanwhile, the Illuminati giggle in their EM-dampening rooms
and slap each other high-fives because they have subtly managed to convince
a growing percentage of populace to purchase and install the infrastructure
for a newly defictionalized Big Brother.
Lately I've
been interested in creating some ideographic representations of the system
(the 3system4 gig) that controlled my life when I was obsessive/compulsive.
The gig was loosely based on an amalgam of geometry, templates for motion
and positioning, theories about human brain damage, and some other fairly
random elements. Trying to reduce the complex formulae which provided
structure for my actions into a physical image is proving to be more difficult
than I had anticipated.
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