"I can no longer think what I want to think. My
thoughts have been replaced by moving images."
(Alexander Duhamel, 1930)
We've seen half this country but it's all been air-
conditioned, rolling by through tinted glass.
// Ever am I realizing how thickly the byte is in my
blood, crawling under my skin and digging like a
chigger. If I was a Luddite, I'd have to learn to live
without myself. If I was a Luddite, I'd try to destroy
myself. Where will people like me fit into the world of
Small Is Beautiful? //
Just another place in my thought-space where the idea
goes down more easily than the instantiation.
I can talk the talk, yeah I can get excited, but if I'm
really honest with myself I'll see that the times when
I am truly happy, when the excitement is bubbling and
overflowing, these times are few and far between and
happen almost exclusively alone with my computer in the
middle of the night.
// Ever am I realizing how thickly the byte is in my
blood, crawling under my skin and digging like a
chigger. If I was a Luddite, I'd have to learn to live
without myself. If I was a Luddite, I'd try to destroy
myself. Where will people like me fit in the world of
Small Is Beautiful, yeah where will i fit in WHERE WILL
I FIT IN //
I ask myself "What makes me truly happy?", and the
half-answer I get are suspect.
I can't tell how much is "I can make a convincing
argument for why this should make me happy", and how
much is "This really makes me happy!"
What really makes me happy?
I've been working on a computer program to tell us what
is beautiful.
I think it's time to pull the plug...