You Digg?
The madness spins from our spines like the Panopticon topped out and filled from a every new born's hectic push and pull. The tin wings spread from the roof and the electric eyes of the occupants gaze from the windows taking in only seconds of one scene before rapture by the second and third and fourth. The child coos. The network calls.
Tempted by the Apple, they become membranes packed in a synapse, only alive in the instance of reaction. Child! Chore! Tree! Chop! Push! Tag! Cloudy, it blurs. Everything blurs from the speed. From the hack. The wires dig deep pushing the veins up from the skin into fresh air and the peers waiting for your likes and dislikes. Sturgeon wrote of the Gestalt. It consumes everyone in a passion of fire, like creation and death combined into a magnificent explosion of combined chats shouting thought furies of commonalities, dislikes, distrust, transparencies, and truth. In the utter nonsense. In the alien nation.
There is no legitimate king. We are the Flickr. We are the Wiki. We are the Stumble. We are Delicious.
Posted by Monkeyspit at August 8, 2006 10:44 PM