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an odd message from the underground

While walking out of the subway I found a tattered piece of paper fluttering in the sudden breeze of a passing train. I picked it up as I have sometimes found amusement reading lost pieces of homework and letters from creditors etc. This piece of paper was covered in a neat handwriting which I have transcribed below.


“I have grown to hate and loathe the computer on which I work and on which I depend for music, entertainment, connection to my friends. When I get a request ‘to skype’ I immediately try and think of excuses- yet when this first appeared it was like a wonder to me: free phone calls anywhere in the world! The same with movie downloads and blog sites laden with good articles. Now all that just makes me sick. I don’t ‘surf’ the net anymore – I use it for the more insidious role of ANSWERING EVERY QUESTION. It is like a square black prosthetic brain and I hate opening it. The day has both begun and ended at that moment. On the rare occasions I go a few days (maybe two at most) without ‘logging on’ I feel a pathetic gratitude to the machine for being such a storehouse of goodies. But what are these good things – just dumb facebook posts, recycled news, bargains on ebay. I think I could cut down to simply buying a few things on the internet. I think I could cut down to doing that on a machine in a library or something. I am aiming for the day when I can boast of no email and no twitter. When I am free. Why? Because I hate the way I have to type to get anything. I want to speak or use a pencil or pen. I don’t want to be MODERN if that means suckling all day on the teat of the internet. But mainly I anticipate the complete corporate takeover of the net in the next few years so that things like blogging (except mediated by facebook or twitter) will cease to be of interest to anyone. Raising money? Maybe. Selling things? Maybe. But part of me would prefer to drive round the country doing pop-up sales, relying on other people to let the world know what I am doing. I would become a digital parasite rather than a digital nomad, slipping between the interstices of other people’s online presence. It is not that I can’t see the utility of the internet – I can. I just think it exacts too high a human price to fully participate in its use. I think it foments madness…I think it is the swirling brain of some satanic being, mankind’s worst creation…"

I wonder if dropping pages in the subway is this author's new method of publication....perhaps it is already working...

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