<div dir="ltr">I was paging through the beautifully terrifying and sweet and lonely imagining of the Machine Dreams zine and noticing some through lines, or subroutines.<div><br></div><div>As in the 1950s, when post-War marketing dreamed of the future, today's techno-marketing is full of optimism. The house of the future. Cars that fly. Jetpacks. The sleek extended human.</div><div><br></div><div>But like the poets of the past, our machine dreams do not extend us seamlessly into some chrome-plated future.</div><div><br></div><div>These machine dreams, not quite nightmares, but haunting impressions.</div><div><br></div><div>It is not a raceless, egalitarian utopia. Nor is it a Platonic ideal on some frictionless, unblemished grid.</div><div><br></div><div>It is broken, glitchy, it is pimpled, it is lossy, it is partial.</div><div><br></div><div>Michael Widner's Bug</div><div><blockquote class="gmail_quote" style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0.8ex;border-left:1px solid rgb(204,204,204);padding-left:1ex">I discovered a new bug today...</blockquote><blockquote class="gmail_quote" style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0.8ex;border-left:1px solid rgb(204,204,204);padding-left:1ex">Nibbling away<br>on brittle bits,<br>the routines of desire. </blockquote><blockquote class="gmail_quote" style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0.8ex;border-left:1px solid rgb(204,204,204);padding-left:1ex"> </blockquote><div>And those bugs keep pointing back to our humanity:</div><div><br></div><div>As the scientist says in the beginning of Miyoko Conely's The Dream</div><blockquote class="gmail_quote" style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0.8ex;border-left:1px solid rgb(204,204,204);padding-left:1ex">Think I gained a wrinkle (Beat) That's the problem. <i>The </i>problem, actually. With me. With us.</blockquote><div><br></div><div>And none of this in some pure imaginary environment but in the market of NanoMix of Ricardo Dominguez's Nano-Garage, where we might survive on weapons contracts rather than utopian visions of unlimited self-serving pleasure machinery...</div><div><br></div><div>(But I still want my jetpack.)</div><div><br></div><div>-- Mark</div><div><br></div><div> </div><div> </div><div><br></div>-- <br><div class="gmail_signature" data-smartmail="gmail_signature"><div dir="ltr"><div><div dir="ltr"><div><div dir="ltr"><div dir="ltr"><div dir="ltr"><div><div dir="ltr">Teacher/Writer/Thinker/Spy<br><a href="http://markcmarino.com" target="_blank">http://markcmarino.com</a><br><a href="http://haccslab.com" target="_blank">http://haccslab.com</a></div></div><div dir="ltr"><br></div><blockquote style="margin:0px 0px 0px 0.8ex;border-left:1px solid rgb(204,204,204);padding-left:1ex"><span><span style="font-size:9.5pt;font-family:Arial;vertical-align:baseline;white-space:pre-wrap">“Enough.</span></span><br></blockquote><div> </div><div>sentence #3 from<i> E-Sig</i></div><div>Micro-novel (limited edition) (being published one sentence at a time via my email signature). Collect them all by writing to me frequently or by trading with my friends. Sentences will be updated periodically.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>
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