Monday, August 31, 2009

How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

For many peeps, social networking has become as much of a daily routine as brewing coffee and brushing teeth. So you go on-line and find out who’s recently brewed caffiene and/or brushed their godddamn teeth. If your drug-of-choice has just kicked in, if you’re getting constipated, sleepy, paranoid, vexed, vibrant or virginal, hey-- tweet it out, right?

Just keeping’ it real, eh, wot? As real as Livelinks.

We all love Livelinks! It’s more exciting than online dating, and way cheaper than a night out!
Or not. A lot of people get addicted to Twitter or Livelinks or Facebook because
actual life can be so boring, when there's nothing else to do, like, say, during a mind-numbing walk in the park.

And some people just figure out that they might better connect with their friends without using a proprietary corporate walled garden.

You’re probably not the first to find it bizarre to have your personal life commercialized. Jürgen Habermas has some particularly articulate ideas about this. Take a look at “The Theory of Communicative Action. (” And you
might want to check out: “The Purchase of Intimacy,”
by Viviana Zelizer. What are you waiting for?

Ho-kay. Breaking up is to hard to do. But if you aspire to shatter the chains of social networking, wikiHow, a collaborative how-to guide, provides a helpful step-by-step way to, emotionally and practically disengage:

I mean, wtf, take tea and see.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Hot Luna

Le juste équilibre

in space...

Every picture
hums a story. Like Canary Islands, like
Norma Jean's loose white towel gently falling,
visual momentum enveloping
her back and sides.... Like thunder on Route 66--
ebb and flow,
twisting the side panels of modernity, of this exquisite
potato crisp. Tracing an Hungarian proto-arc round and around hinting,
teasing the form of the sensuous ****.

Bobby Troup lived to regret that he had, in a weak moment,
suggested that Édith Piaf was not a little sparrow.
Merde! Jean Cocteau, almost hidden by
a mass of splendiferous flowing drapery, took umbrage,
arranged in cumulous folds... masked
by the lack of
a moon.

Thin mesh
cotton cloth
hanging-- suspended--
from an unseen surface.