Alien Anthropology

Monday mornings…

…a vast and yawning abyss of commuter futility only partially masked by the endless distraction of engorging ourselves on information artefacts, channels, opinions, fiction and repetition.

It is as though we can not even savour our loneliness and feelings of dispossession or pointlessness at all of this cyclical and directionless repetition. The cognitive landscape of this rapidly-passing historical moment is one in which even the bare naked experience of angst finds itself suffocated under a personal obligation to engage with all of the superficiality and noise.

We have become the embodied manifestation of an intended obsolescence which could hardly be called new but upon which the gears and cogs, the circuit boards and network communications of commercial and economic self-propagation implicitly depend. It is not an era of connectivity so much as one of emotional deprivation, discontinuity and isolation.

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