[6 / 4 / 3]
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Soft-machine buzz and slogan-contagion.
Cities synthesizing inhuman desires.
Psychogeography escapes the concentrational talking head-line, chattering classifications, and becomes something else.
1996. Paris in flames,
Revolution has gone K-space native, become darker.
No demands. No hint of strategy. No logic. No hopes. No end.
Its politics on TV again. But out in the jungle it's war.
Accumulated stock footage backs up speculative Euro-identity. The forseeable future is locked into perpetual rerun. All the regulators are in the media business. They think nothing's happening if it hasn't been screened first.
End-of-the-line Eurotunnel vision is locked onto the rear view mirror. Paris metropolitics is a protection racket. Paranoiac Francophonia lapses into necrospective automummification as a panic bid to keep things regular: Eurocontinence. Retroactive cultural cleansing is too late - the bugs are already in the system. Dead White metaphysics keeps asking the wrong question - what does it mean? - while the machines get on with working. Linguistic integrity is a thing of the past and vernacular cybernetics signifies nothing.
Politics is a spectacular failure. And the Spectacle is all that's keeping politics alive. Things aren't happening in the field of vision but are ôflowing on a blind, mute, deterritorialized socius.ö The impersonal is apolitical. Telecommercialised nomadic multiplicity aborts nascent Euro-unity. There's no such thing as a single market.
Out in the jungle you can't see much. Dark continent invasion into White Man's perspective. The colonisers discover, too late, that darkness has no heart. Acentred predator decapitalisation ruthlessly eats out the middle. Lights going out all over Europe as peripheral activity cuts through the static power lines of the rotten core.
Cities synthesizing inhuman desires.
Psychogeography escapes the concentrational talking head-line, chattering classifications, and becomes something else.
1996. Paris in flames,
Revolution has gone K-space native, become darker.
No demands. No hint of strategy. No logic. No hopes. No end.
Its politics on TV again. But out in the jungle it's war.
Accumulated stock footage backs up speculative Euro-identity. The forseeable future is locked into perpetual rerun. All the regulators are in the media business. They think nothing's happening if it hasn't been screened first.
End-of-the-line Eurotunnel vision is locked onto the rear view mirror. Paris metropolitics is a protection racket. Paranoiac Francophonia lapses into necrospective automummification as a panic bid to keep things regular: Eurocontinence. Retroactive cultural cleansing is too late - the bugs are already in the system. Dead White metaphysics keeps asking the wrong question - what does it mean? - while the machines get on with working. Linguistic integrity is a thing of the past and vernacular cybernetics signifies nothing.
Politics is a spectacular failure. And the Spectacle is all that's keeping politics alive. Things aren't happening in the field of vision but are ôflowing on a blind, mute, deterritorialized socius.ö The impersonal is apolitical. Telecommercialised nomadic multiplicity aborts nascent Euro-unity. There's no such thing as a single market.
Out in the jungle you can't see much. Dark continent invasion into White Man's perspective. The colonisers discover, too late, that darkness has no heart. Acentred predator decapitalisation ruthlessly eats out the middle. Lights going out all over Europe as peripheral activity cuts through the static power lines of the rotten core.
