Death of the Web

Thoughts, 11/01/2020



I used to write about myself, now I write about other people and changes in the world around me. Past a certain age, people stop being so interesting. Their potential gets worn out, they have been compromised and the world has changed them. It has changed them probably not for the better. You lose the will to stand out, the desire for validation. If you do want these things, you cannot seek them out in the same way. I often find myself wanting to call up friends I don't have anymore to record some guitar tracks. On the plus side, for all the people I have alienated myself from, I'm closer to others.

I sometimes get an uneasy and unnerving feeling that the sum of all of my mistakes hasn't yet become fully apparent. That this is it, as bad as it is, this is the best day of my life. It's only going to get worse.

My new years resolution, with what little time I have, is to see a ghost. To travel around, wherever I have to go, and experience some kind of supernatural encounter. I'll have my life back and I'll be out of my current job, which is more my life than my own life right now, in two years. Then I think I'll make videos and take photographs of people. I was went down the golf rumours rabbit hole and found a youtube channel which just featured a girl smoking on camera. I really enjoyed Larry Clarks sequel to Marfa Girl, much preferred it to the first part. When I'm free I'll continue pursuing some kind of self betterment where I left off. And I'll take photographs of people and leave the country for good to go and work in a Japanese convienience store. They have haunted sites in Japan.



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Death of the Web

Thoughts, 26/08/2019



The rise of social media represents the death of the Internet as a form of virtual memory and
the storage of human consciousness as computer based data. Now there is only ego feed and spiritual cramp in the form of likes, validation and self sustaining echo chambers.

More on this later. I believe nostalgia is a vital aspect of an alchemical process in which an ideal, a hindsight recogniton of a superior mode of doing things can be actualised here and now. By degrees creativity has come to be replaced by convenience. This creates the illusion of betterment. In actual fact we're becoming a hivemind rather than existing as the separate entities we once were, outputting a variety of different perspectives free of regulation, expanding on existing information. The only exception to this being meme magic in recent years.

The homepage is dead which means the homepage can now be subject to revival. We are Internet necromancers, on the outskirts of the sterile and controlled environments of facebook and twitter and google and youtube.
Braindead and unthinking, weak and flabby, progressive and soulless. The same people who once operated in spheres of supposed dissidence, the temple of the screaming electron, the cult of the dead cow, now enforce the safe space and are revealed for what they are. They bend the knee to sacred facebook, and parrot safe thoughts.

Beige masses of unthinking bugmen, hooked to their feed, saying what they think provided what they think is safe. Saying whatever has been said to them, by people who been approved by self serving and self appointed authorities.


The index page. We descend a set of stairs, dank and stale air. The sound of wood against shoes, each step, a little darker, the sounds coming from the door at the bottom of the stairs are familiar and evoke a profound reaction. Tapes play conversations you recall having, but had forgotten up until now. The crackle of VHS, your vision distorts, its warm, the door cracks open and on the other side are shelves and shelves, an array on books and files. Tapes. Your entire life documented up until this point. Everything that has ever mattered to you is here, you can watch back without having to recall. Your first computer on a desk, you recognise it immediately and scour through all those forgotten files, images, thoughts and ideas. Only ever stored locally. The Internet as an extension of human memory is profound in its potential. We carve out our basement by means of code, transfer ourselves into, and build up from there extending into an entire structure. Social media in contrast is rented space.

User friendly assumes there is an end user, using a service. The idea any creative process, or non-superficial input is taking place is besides the point. Those things are no longer prerequisites.
Convienience is king. Hook yourself up to the feed, let the systems squid wrap a tentacle around your throat and repeat and repeat until you have forgotten who you are.



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