sAyingsometHing

Art, poetry, digital art, photography, criticism and essays.

30 Oct 2010

Untitled


, originally uploaded by crescentsi.

Thank you to XstockX for allowing me to use her photo in this image.

Simon

http://xstockx.deviantart.com

12 Oct 2010

Living Solutions

I am now officially living in an advert. Unfortunately, for those of you who can't keep up with the development of technology, I don't have time to explain. Time is a monetary factor and lateness or perceived lateness becomes a "preparation to irony", resulting in system exclusion (or having no fixed abode). If I don't live in the advert for 10 hours a day I am homeless. 2 strikes and you're out!
Fortunately, I live in rather a remarkable advert in the way that it makes no sense to the consumer. Traditionally, adverts had some clarity about what they were trying to sell, so people could recognise the product and buy it. This is the beginning of paying for advertising, not just renting a space to live but a kind of tax to fund Capitalism or "life solutions" as it is rapidly becoming known.
Not requiring a physical space to live in does cut costs and cuts down on prison inmates, but, although fair play, it does sometimes feel less absorbing than 4 walls! The advert I live in, although rather amateurish from a programming point of view, is laced with symbols of independence and freedom. Democracy is often evoked through an owl.
The paradox (not irony, which implies pragmatism) is that many people still live in flats and houses. Although this is becoming indistinguishable from "living solutions", the problems with administration and physical space should be addressed and full compliance reached, or we will face huge litigation, even on a perceived basis.
I have a huge face of a founder-market-leader on the fascia of the advert, constantly in view of the paying public. At least we know that the art of the past is being honoured, through the depiction of gods, goddesses and demi-gods through creative mechanisms.
I often remark, although with some hesitance now, that 10 years ago the whole notion of living within a virtual space would have seemed absurd. However, absurdity is the mother of all invention (rather than necessity, which is absurd) and virtual living spaces or rather, living solutions, have dramatically cut costs to advertising and commerce.
I feel fully functionable and have managed compliancy, despite 2 late payments for my education and 1 to a dating agency. This is also an achievement, considering that my parents are under the "living solutions eligibility compliance threshold", having squandered money on physical holidays abroad and a lack of potential earnings, due to my Mother leaving education before her Masters.
I say "fully functionable" because originally there were concerns that those who lived in virtual spaces would lose basic functioning such as life-skills, social skills, and motor abilities. Some still had notions such as mental illness and anxiety and depression! Of course, psychotic disorders were proved to be a symptom of a public-funded economy. However, none of the above were cost-effective, so, naturally were ruled out.

Labels: , , , ,

2 Oct 2010

Poem 23/09/2010 (This Portal)

This portal from one town to
another, from one culture to
another shouldn't be a faceless
car on a neglected road

a worm-hole in a plastic world
a black hole, a stargate, a
manoeuvre shouldn't kiss our cities
like a timeless trance

A Facebook page, a cure for Cancer
we shouldn't be neglected like this;
a shortage of housing, a reflection in a
television screen

We should say bom dia, bon voyage
a handshake here a pat on the back, a
caress, a hug and eyes that
met across heated floors

should wend their way back to television
screens, for this, 25 minutes to Solihull
by a route that seems never invented
is the blink of an eye in a Sat Nav

screen that decries the woodland that
I pass in flurries, the poverty and drugs
and illness that is measured digitally
symbiotically, economically.

This portal is faster still, a land
my home that I do not recognise
buildings empty, half built
like a friend, misanthropically

You'd rather forget