The Internet: Static Mobility & the View From the Chair

The Internet: Static mobility & the view from the chair...

Sitting on a shell on a beach on an island called my self. Locked into the view as it spirals in real time across space whose officialdom I pass unnoticed. Nobody has proof of who I am or my intentions. But I am a chameleon. A new wave of pariah, self policed I ride the highway of my own choices and delusions. I can be everywhere yet nowhere simultaneously. My moving hands belong to another universe while I sit in my chair, barely there, a voluntary quadriplegic, inconvenienced by bodily functions.

            Out of sight and out of mind. A jigsaw with its last piece missing; only I notice my departure. I am locked away, locked up yet open armed and opened up. Like a patient lying on the operating table, trying to obtain penetration. Reaction and inaction piercing through thresholds between the individual and obligations. Moving beyond sexuality and orifices. Welcome back to the machine, the master of ego. An electric tureen, acting as mediator between us and the next scene. Purchases by paypal, substituting conversations with checkout boys. Online banking, populations wanking. A zillion shops at the press of a button. 1960's fantasty household appliances.  The tip of the iceberg and a thousand fruitless communications. Desperate attempts of flattery, made from dislocated ingredients of hopelessness and desire. Cuboid conversations bouncing back.  Trialogues, dialogues, monologues to an audience of bored bricks.  Micro to macro fame, the website to blame. The end of sipping coffee in cafes in the rain. Saplings shooting to the stars, love bouncing off satellites in Mars, clips of retards playing guitars. YouTube, men nude, every spectacle that's considered crude. Oil war madness a spacion - cyber morphology of nation - of email protesters. Loving to detest, sitting in their slippers with egg on their vest.

            Everyone running from self arrest. What's next?