Joe Sutton




Beyond Static Mountains …………………………………………………………………..


Black Sun Contact …………………………………………………………………………. 37 Vector ………………………………………………………………………………………. 49 Afterword: Recalculating Route …………………………………………………………… 69

you are (t) here


On August 19 2012 I embarked on a journey from my Brooklyn apartment to the Pacific Ocean via Google Streetview. Working off-and-on in the following months, the overall journey took 83 hours. This is what I saw.


as i cross over the railroad tracks at the hamilton station i realize again that arriving at my destination is the first time i have stepped into the open air since entering the subway nearest to my brooklyn apartment there's something amazing and unsettling about new york city's subway system that one may get from one end of the vast city to any other or may even travel outside the city altogether as i did today through the network of tunnels and corridors when i am in the city and forced to take a shuttle bus i become nervous of missing a stop despite having traveled the route underground countless times i still have no concept of the look of the world above underground all is uniform except for the color scheme of the walls’ tiles this is all i know about exploring the city’s geography i live work and play in a fractured city by assembling it myself from disparate locations i could count on my hand bedford-nostrand (g line) bedford ave (l) 42nd street-bryant park (f) west 4th Street (a) a friend may ask have i ever been to this state or that i may have passed through via airplane or train but i have never experienced in these places what might be called living my body has passed through the space but has never been in the space but regardless my body is now and always moving through the space that composes the solar system as i sit stationary pressing my hand onto keyboard


four giants on tiny legs against kitsch super flat gossip of two friends leak break off line loving

weaponize silence

grain winds windmill validation needs result feedback structure in grain winds butcher paper block

strobe bass flow in the passenger car

neighbor along road piggyback the stranger dialogue & biker chain gang blanks nothing weave-space salt synapses sunbathe gilded glare or windshield screen

clod of shadow from under trim of tracks on the back of another animal touching like mating

slit slant gutted grain sky lofty cloud pattern quilt chain it is grounding it stays eye moves

forgotten river lethe bank eternal on the road lifecast getting the wine-hued night weird real jacketed men

on the tallest road side lovers taller turning still like giants unmoving sky gold leaf seams bandaged

idle motorcycle idle image stuck through keyhole hello!

just two standing by the roadside real cool

fear wall exist here crying for guidance for exit

why hello there to piss or break fast & coffee


interruption ruption interinto ion

working man blue collar jet blue frequency flyer

of constant mooned sky portico personality & effects cut up paper dolls

knock on have you got a

she moving to-andpulling weight

barrier border the monty hall problem my warehouse a line of freight my frightened self shitfaced


in dusk thrust on ugly nature dependent on pretty eyes artery constriction in the open beltway band

check in just following the ovular surface in eyes commons shed discarded at the edge take me back to ... through pulling it through inside or under horizon

there are messages being transferred in air all around stop truck stuck community forum


reduce behavioral disorientation fit it in excess fat into surplus gestural after-image short-circuit cut strips of land descriptions can be no more than passwords to this great game


all-breathing circulation through carved landscape horizon trough emancipatory fencing

expand & contract chamber engagement to approach nothing

portal guard nodal point-in-cloud body in body experience breathing symbiosis

crisis room compressed objects may close

in every direction trajectory point rayed through hand slapping keyboard head slammed against wall fly caught in window cross-hatching stone mountain wall

the max area of this spatial field does not extend beyond this entirety can hold & pinch am touching the world beside self


echoing film still cycle at lunch time or shopping mall expertise a booth shoebox house or snowflakes


all the town for sale thank god for this mobile society and recreational vehicle

sinclair: how much for this junk big asset in utah

heavy hand across hearth & homebody

cafe gas station motel garage junk yard rv park landing strip

can't touch this might as well won't exist

excuse the tone torn the ground a scratched cornea's corruption

who wants to be mayor millionaire


here placement lies

to end up in knolls just a slab of reeling some dumb old brick

all streets is there each thing ghostly

an archive of vertices

o look around you! feel the undisturbed air! this air is pregnant with feeling the file's been dug up but still need to delay the cities of ants below unfathomable calm spoken by wanting


debord: cyclical time was already dominant in the experience of nomadic peoples who confronted each moment of their roaming once a society became fixed in a locality gave space content through the individualized development of specific areas a time-bound return to similar places marked the end of an idle and contentless freedom and the beginning of labor eternity as the return of the same this society had in fact already set up its own frontiers


experiencing time first or northern lights here what is: latitude longitude what is: the zip code

tie me down tie me down fast asleep slow running

adult relaxation one eye on the personal brand young in doll house

hello suburban wild transversal between two basket cases

inside NPC do you accept the tracking of cookies help improve

some shadows cast a companion alienated self of attributes maybe a eye am one beside me eye beam need to difference

crawling in the light and repent from the image I wish for companion enough in a community to lose something to realize is another proud mother proud

are you are they


the faint final balloon pissing air clear blank school sky dance

middle american surveillance dipping toes in baby's first fingerprinting retina scan display rendered and prostituted prosthesis we the ppl of immaculate lawning

thou shalt not thou shalt not thou shalt not grid me grid me grind me


a shy pony you found in backdrop panning town rotating time turntabled wheeling

clustered mouthpiece shovel lay open bare barely separate patterned house peeling off the tape tearing landscaping

operations for food symbiotic tiling skipping static status change

weight at crossed road of empty space of distance filled the flatness with flattened anticipation non-player in cartesian plane navigate window pain


scram off not my face but built this wall around

there is no eye in in

your food here you here embodied energy here under wind farm

not mine thrown against the margin feeling edges out pinged you

in it open-mouthed lip


hint somewhere else rite of passage stretching translated thread thorough eye of needle is no eye target on-point

do not deviate morning commute economy class

off-road burrow in the brush worn no sign of it but hidden driveway no sign horizon bled out

lived in public once everyone else doing it chemical effects from light ingrained private property or work road tilling mine own fields facade facial software to delete you masking ID of passersby ergonomic language hug environment by jinxed wall of dazzle glass

there is no there is no in prism it prison eyed prison stick a needle no no


shredded wheat shred affinity circle of the eye

fly trapped in motion before lifecycle of one day outlived in the wind sitting all day here

no understanding of difference of distance

devastatingly empty gray entombed in static liquid crystal synchronized motion direction

point perspective to its graceful autonomy a vice remote location

direct me to castles in california elaborate copy on bus gave it and will take it back uh-huh

tightened grip on efficiency

dietary habitual free lunch locomotive remote revolt

mine eyes mine eyes there is no north canal knowledge

the frontier of the eye surface vacuum inside-out time's up rapid moment dark on the stylings of the sense encoded disc image


time may only be identified when a change or event has occurred between two moments if we do not experience something then that something is unnoticeable in which case it may as well not exist if you have two images that appear identical can you say time has passed between the time in which the first and second image was photographed consider one image of a hand splayed open and a second of the same hand clutched in a fist we may then discern one instance of the hand’s life from the other a change has been made somewhere in between and therefore may know time has passed moving eastward on interstate eighty from one step to the next the sky changes dramatically it may be a dark cloudy day in one point and merely overcast but still relatively bright a few yards down the road the vague label attached to the images with the date october 2007 suggests the place may have been photographed in both instances on the same day perhaps some fluke of the camera causes the true time-identity of the day to become indiscernible how would this weather be perceived if felt in the flesh with only two options one cannot tell it is possible the hands in the two photos were not attached to the same wrist


cattle tiled this over world

finished entry what will you give up rows and rows and rows

in exchange is this the

closed eye phrasing wielding binary pigments a random memory solid-state

revolutionary re-writeable drive rendered out

deep horizon summit or slice bejeweled costumed and double banding

front of constantly shedding debris imprinted upon eye footprint


absolute branding postcard community

once knew a place

infinite regress wrapped by eye mage impostor syndrome

zoetrope country hunting season unfolded and welcome to switch state unfolded unto

earth model discontinued fielding with watermarked stock country true dimension take stack within feedback loop eloping discussion


fundamentally wrong to forget faded background of true 240p met again pursuit of some ideal intersection of all traffic infinite portrait of my staring way


An invisible technology.


projected thru devil's playground

eye westward how to part the frame to account for cost reduction

couple on afternoon time doomed to austere #YOLOism looking over shoulder

en-media-res so precise i ejected trespassed


translated to sound

bunch of word-salad mosaic of pixel sharp cut

lone spotty house inside of which does not exist tactical strategy unfolding

pressing down platform to one long hallway the pioneering still snap window show memories behind backdrop wall

named within coding

consider all the photos of which in the background in grounded

built profile

knowledge to maneuver dowry


why not just keep the coliseum roll it out & swerve

stories sown in gravel beneath seams trail of ghost down I-80 or any avenue boulevard or attitude

raze it raze the grass scorch earth down endless layered vacuum any road through bounding ideals

stepped on stepped on never

open the line for filing pathways

thought was a new episode until it no longer even resembled reexamined fashioned the senses

continuity instruction or blurry for initial surrounding error each choice pocket world


the defect the inclined curtain foots my finger peeled off via finger

not intolerable multi valence HUD piercing weight of light for desert surface

each room the same

no walks to cover get constantly sheltered

apply context field tagged and framed life in america of being in the world

invisible of thriving below delayed action technique cute lag between route and destination dichotomy paradox artifact of light consider idleness through made-up capital slurry funding

smattering of ceiling compressed diorama of desert sloping formulaic


pursuit of depths

trying to find it in the magic eye

same topology features doubled reverberating echo vibration of height molding, conforming to ergonomic screen

would you tell a friend no space to share feelings no space to share just friction across this is all off-limits or perhaps forgotten

caravan of mounted image translated tangibility navigation guide: please do not tap the natural skin oil smear on opaque cubed landscape smell of old television stared at too close masticating plastic eyeball familiar characters populating rest stop anything anywhere else


regret regret this tear it sticks looks like a movie set something flattened sharp wild untamed black transcribed at distance windshield spliced back forth delirious beauty withheld in ancient pupil

a field of electric body zone feedback loop from one-to-one correspondence

and waves! motion! a sleep sickness of tepid inertia

frankly risking tubing

brewing inside data cooling center in world without sky cards placed in grid in-line cut deck


The imaginary life on the screen is the product of the real need.


by association to flat world castle of illusion oblivious to obliteration suture one cross-section to next

surrounded quaint colonialism homeland security-made stand-off at gas station seen via view-finder keys to the kingdom

cartoons of cruelty thru window and keyholes

sleight-of-hand those who dream the schematics shuffling feet

through or inside wall master feeling profane elasticity

rose-colored eye congealed in some way

facade copied from more famous place the poor family fantasy final analysis

will outlive my occupation inner sanctum


cel to cel transfer rapid fire movement reduced to line

storm the castle floor plan exchange of face for self-identification

copy paste an onion skin inscription of the eye

describe cultural identity


mirrored projector status body boy ether i go net body a beetle go connection body bug mind that gap

lauded land hum out nostril to corner mouth inert spiraling of vessels under cloud cataracts over lens character of amber wave the gesture a slice of which bands compressed great strides against digital boundaries on off switch turned in many directions underside of casing peeled away


there is the surface

now think or rather feel, intuit what is beyond it what the reality must be like if it looks this way


little chance of winning this game on its lowest brightness setting someone sought rain overlay gray and ground surrounding itself seeming extracted from this one point the line terminates itself standing on top of the sky disc or the world inside its own world leaking memories something splayed open from arteries pulsing ultra contrasty spheres of off-white spit on the grassy knoll it is all breathing the opposite road slaps back when you would now know it is there oximetry from lungs to vessels and rotating in place on the open road pretty pollution in its stomach pushes out surrounded by this trick room eight sides circumcircled the ahead road disconnected from itself shooting into this sky version halo everywhere scribbled camouflage from US soldiers

observe a camera in possession of a human being the impression given is of someone lying in wait sitting in the combinatory game welcome animal because you cannot see it does not mean it is not there the eye is charged with light this is the ancient act of stalking which goes back to the palaeolithic hunter in the tundra










perhaps we do not lose our memories rather the neural pathways that allow us to access those memories may be fading in the town in which i was raised i feel as though i have been thrust into a familiar room but for which i have no vocabulary i cannot discern window from wall to door what is floor or ceiling or television screen i cannot remember the names of my friends i had as a very young child and of course the friends whom i undoubtedly do not remember ever existing or furniture taken out of my childhood bedroom that is now a storage space how many vacation photos shot by strangers am i just a background character in and what am i doing in there


Let the dogs out. You stand in the back yard. First generation suburbanite kind of thing in which case this surrounding farmland had just cropped houses framed repeating across all vertices. Accept the expanse of sparse slow uniform housing degree gap. Blank wonder for brother man in this imagined community before reality television tribal council. Customize this home: dress with furniture, ottoman upon leg of lamb and lounging but realize you still have not upgraded your furniture and now you are dissatisfied with your life at moments. This neighborhood. Take breath. This is vacation from the pre-rendered intellectual backdrop. Wallpaper your cell phone something new. It is a kind of desert town. You think the golden age of WB11 teen drama. This small town of lonely ominousness reserved for 8-bit side-scrolling. This way and that. This design is for you to embark on an epic adventure daily. You feel no efficacy otherwise. It's a blank amnesiac adventure turning sideways. Take a sip of coffee. All bored and shit.


i remember learning to build a computer game designing the environment which in technical terms was called a board setting which tiled spaces could be stepped on or passed through or became walls coding dialogue to occur how to program it so that if the player-character stepped on a specific tile he would be whisked away to a completely different board or space a different tile even if in the reality of the game-world he were just passing through a doorway from one room to the next both inside the same house even sophisticated games that i had played such as three-dimensional massively-multiplayer online roleplay games operated in such a way that crossing an invisible barrier would create a momentary lag while the next area loaded even though it was already visible upon approaching the worlds were not singular nor continuous environments but rather networks of self-contained rooms


A car drives through. The landscape is brooded by dark clouds and threat-of-thunder. Neighborly boxes build progression along street-level view across the road. There are no people here: just the whitewashed boarded homes, some SUVs, a corn silo. Your breath chases the dogs. The back lawn is ashy but no matter because you still have to do laundry and that is the most urgent thing. Ask yourself how am I doing? Check your levels. What have I achieved? Look at the territory your shadow bounds across— no, it is a dull spot directly below you in constant high-noon, bad lighting. The environment is simply a plane on which the camera projects: everything flat and linear, a history compressed in tarball. Pry into a seam or enjamb against another affected self. Press down upon loamy flesh soil. It is scarred with knowledge unread. Inspect element. The sky snaps and fizzles pink and twilight. Save progress into social media status via mobile phone.


how many hours have i logged into the system 83 about half of an entire week unlike my family home and hometown this community is unchanging until the data corrupts having become frozen between each play the electric circuit stopped but started again this player-character emulates breathing again as we navigate the game-world populated by characters i have known since early childhood in a way they are corporate mascots functioning as the most consistent partners in my life but i do not remember why i am here or what it is we seek to accomplish or realize what is the recipe for a successful revolution this is a world with no memory how many times have i saved the world but cannot remember actually doing so


spent a great deal of time socializing in so-called virtual reality chat rooms a digital flaneur making daily strolls through polygonal cities and sacred geometrical wilderness had my own digital apartment furnished with the website's own digital currency the labor that earned this was simply existing within the world logging a lifetime these environments were user-created and saved as files uploaded and spread throughout the internet and downloaded in turn by other users certainly copies of the very places in which i gained my voice still exist just as they were when i spoke through them but no gateway that i may find exists surely on a server or inside misplaced hard-drives perhaps existing even within old computers that belonged to my family wherever those are picked up by some handy people after being put to the curb past their practical life spans haha describing a computer as having a life the computer is life


The yard is wallpapered with fireflies tracing ambient music through ostensible desire-paths. This is an elastic linearity, tenuous but still towards an end. Hissing leaves yawn and a friend pings you from a sister-server. It is just a phantom vibration. Your feet jab the earth's epidermis. It is a sour smell peeling through cellophane. The body drags through momentary solidified lag-air. Just a pop-under kink in your neck. A pus expels through pixels' new puncture on the surface. Examine hole: a funnel for really simple syndication. You reach in your hand but skin gets stuck. Shed exoskeleton facsimile of flesh. Ribbons of language release.




The image parses and consumes itself growing girth. The space appears mostly pristine. It approaches a limit of read-only memory emulation inside of you. You hear shouting from outside of this. Where is the back yard? Ask yourself how do I get back to the back yard? The room unfolds and contracts into planar grounding avoiding sky. The window collapses this retina display placed into countless hallways refurbished and demolished and rebuilt into others spiraling throughout the site, its own city. Walls become actively embodied and explorable or vice-versa. You scroll. You are textured across the lawn, bitmapping the country. Exit. Mounds of gravel are cast in golden light surrounding this steel keep. Here is a measuring stick against mythology. This is the most familiar of places. It is in the old photos. Try to make out the dogs over there. Light pours out of themselves. You extend outward approaching it. It engulfs the tunnel of leaves. Where are the dogs basked in the fencing. Try to participate or not. The memory of movement is attractive and repulsive simultaneously. You are unmoving and still. The dogs are at the door. You open the door and enter with them. You are in the kitchen. There is a refrigerator in the room. Open the refrigerator. You take out a bottle of beer and close the refrigerator door. Static at the window. Your body presses against it a salvo of language.










filename "goback.gif"

Translation { translation -60 6 60 } Material { diffuseColor .6 0 0 } Cylinder {

points can be connected written to provide the system by significant events in the background

Translation { translation 0 8 0 } Material { diffuseColor .14 .1 .05 } Cone {

branches connecting to every other in the network of rhizomes presented as linear formation of free space again outside the room feeling a method to excite another


[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]



[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ field [ [ [ [ [ pattern [ [ [ [ strobe [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ direct [ eye [ [ image

] ] ] ] ]

[ blank [ [ [ display


[ bleed


[ [

] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

] ] ]

[ [ data distance

] ]

[ [ [ [

difference [ [ [ ] ] ] ]


[ [

] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ lens

] ] ] ] ]

environment [ [ [ [ light ] ] ] ]

] ]

[ [ [

] ] ] ] ]

[ illusion [ [ nature [

] ]

[ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

leak [ [ point [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ real [ shadow [ [ [ [ [

] ] ]

[ [ prism [

] ]

[ [ [

] ]

[ [ [

] ] ] ]

[ retina [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

render scan [ [ [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ]


[ [

] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ weight

] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [

] ] ]

[ [ [



alienate [ [ [ copy development economy [ [ [ idle labor [ motion [ Property [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

america [ build class [ [ [ [ [ [ illusion [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ code [ [ effects [ [ [ [ [ man [ [

] ] ]

attention [ [ ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ ] [ [ [ [ [ [ ] [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

autonomy body cel [ [ ] ]

[ border chain [


commute ] ] cycle [


dependence [ [ ] ]

dominance [ [ [ [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

efficiency ] ] ] ] ] [ [ [ improve [ margin ] ] occupation point [ [ [ sorted ] [ touch ] ] [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

feedback freedom [ [ line [ [ prison [ ] ] ] ] ] ]

operation [ remote [ [ [ ] ] ] ]

post-human [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ]

prosthesis [ [ [ structure tear trespass [ ] ] ] ]

prostitution [ separate society [ time [ [ ]

[ silent [ [ [ [ zone

] ] ] ]

surveillance [ [ [ ] ] ]

symbiosis [ ]

synchronize transfer weaponize

validation work



[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ pattern property [ [ skin [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ build [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ nature [

] ]

artery [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] [ [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] [ [ [ [ [ [ surface touch [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ bleed casing [ [ [ [ face [ [ [ [ [ [


[ body [


[ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ mother [ [ [ [ [ [ synapse [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ eye [ [ [ [ man [

] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ]


[ [ [

post-human [ [ [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

prosthesis ] ] retina [ [ ] ] ] ] [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ]

] ]

[ [



Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator {

"all motion"}

"hips motion"}

"hips data"}

"lt thigh motion"}

"lt thigh data"}

"lt shin motion"}

"lt shin data"}

"lt foot motion"}

"lt foot data"}

"rt thigh motion"}

"rt thigh data"}


Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator {

"rt shin motion"}

"rt shin data"}

"rt foot motion"}

"rt foot data"}

"abdomen motion"}

"abdomen data"}

"chest motion"}

"chest data"}

"neck motion"}

"neck data"}

"head motion"}


Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform {

"head data"}

"lt shoulder motion"}

"lt shoulder data"}

"lt upper arm motion"}

"lt upper arm data"}

"lt lower arm motion"}

"lt lower arm data"}

"lt hand motion"}

"lt hand data"}

"rt shoulder motion"}

"rt shoulder data"}


Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform { } Separator { Info { string Transform {

"rt upper arm motion"}

"rt upper arm data"}

"rt lower arm motion"}

"rt lower arm data"}

"rt hand motion"}

"rt hand data"}

} } } } } } } } } } } } } } } #END WALK #man by roadside } USE man1 } #end man by roadside Separator {




[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ field [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

america barrier [ [ [ [ [ exit [ ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ grain ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] [ [ [ [ plane [ [ [ [ [ ] ] ] [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ car [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ]

[ [ [

] ] ] ]

[ body [ [ [


backdrop border

] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ data [ [ [ [ horizon [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ space [

] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ house

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

frontier [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ structure [ [ [

] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ sanctum [ [

] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ prison [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [

] ] ] ] ] ]

settlement [ surface [ tunnel [ ] ] ]

] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ wall zone

] ] ]

[ [ [ [

[ [ window



[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ field [ [ [ location [ pattern [ repeat

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ class

] ] ]

[ [ [ code [ [ [ [ [ [ [ layer [ [ plane [ [ [ [

] ] ]

[ [ [ [

] ] ] ]

attribute [ [ constant data ] ]

[ [ cel

] ]

[ border chain [


construct delete [ ] ] ] ]


correspond difference [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ]

] ] ] ] ] ] ]

cycle [ [ [ flat [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

dependence [ [ ] ]

distance [ [ [ horizon [ [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ]

environment [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

feedback [ [ [ line [ [ [ render [ [ [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

] ] ]

[ [ latitude

longitude ] [ ]

] ]

[ [ point

perspective ] [ [ [ [ [ [ [ ] [ ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ surface [ [ [

] ] ] ]

real [ [ space [ ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ status [ [ [ [

schematic [ [ [ transfer [ ] ] ]

substratum [ [ [ ] ] ]

] ] ] ]

[ [ [ zone

] ] ]

[ [ [


alienate bare break city copy development economy existence field freight idle labor location motion pattern property repeat schematic skin strobe synchronize transfer weaponize

america barrier build class correspond difference edge exit film frontier illusion latitude longitude nature perspective prosthesis retina screen sky structure tear trespass weave

artery beyond busy code cut direct effects eye fingerprint grain image layer man nomad plane prostitution return separate society substratum time truck weight

attention blank car commute cycle display efficiency facade flat here improve leak margin occupation point public road settlement sorted surface touch tunnel wild

attribute bleed casing constant data distance empty face follow horizon inside lens message open post-human real roam shadow space surveillance town under window

autonomy body cel construct delete dominance environment fantasy frame house interruption light mirror operation prism remote sanctum sign status symbiosis track validation work

backdrop border chain content dependence echo eternity feedback freedom identification intuit line mother passage prison render scan` silent still synapse transcribe wall zone


[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]

[ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [ [

] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ] ]


DEF Entry_cam PerspectiveCamera { position 0 10 184 orientation 0 0 -1 0 focalDistance 5 heightAngle .8 }

through a linear medium of events that come reshaped and distorted refresh histories

DEF Computer_cam PerspectiveCamera { position 0 10 94 orientation 0 0 -1 0 focalDistance 5 heightAngle .8 }

light reflected in projection of imagined understanding the end of the line and the room once more

DEF FractalTree_cam PerspectiveCamera { position 34 10 106 orientation 0100 focalDistance 5 heightAngle .8 } }

it does not record the space and event but rather the context and significance to experience it more meaningfully

DirectionalLight { on TRUE intensity










㻢㻥㻌 㻌

On August 19, 2012 I put my address into Google Maps and opened the Streetview feature. I was sitting at my desk in my bedroom, looking at my apartment building through the computer window, a 360-degree photo of the street outside that had been taken two months before. I directed the Google Streetview avatar through the map that sat in the corner of the screen, pointing my view up my Brooklyn street. Over the subsequent months and 80-some hours later, I made a virtual journey all the way across the continent to California. The idea to do this cross-country journey came to me because I have never been farther west than the middle of Pennsylvania, and so since I could not afford a trip to some exotic locale, I tried the next best thing. And what does “next best thing” mean in this context? I asked myself then, and ask again now, because of other questions I began to develop while on this journey: what might be considered an “authentic” experience of culture or space upon the intersection of the digital and the physical, and why is there still a popular privileging of physically-embodied experiences over those of the digital? Today, the digital and physical “worlds” are so enmeshed that it is difficult to draw a distinction between them anymore. The digital augments physical space: with social media, many friendships are made and flourish online; artificial intelligence and algorithms help us through customer services; tiny robots perform surgeries, and more. When you can “friend” your nation’s leader on social media, or scan a QR code on a poster that may link you to an online store where you may purchase a product to be delivered to your door that same day, a much-talked about issue is how to juggle or negotiate these realms, how to live in an augmented reality. This is the term used by Nathan Jurgenson in opposition to what he calls “digital dualism,” or a privileging of physical “real” space over the digital. Augmented reality theory, in contrast, posits that the digital and physical are always in flux, compose one singular reality, and therefore one should not privilege one experience over the other. He writes: “We are not crossing in and out of separate digital and physical realities, ala The Matrix, but instead live in one reality, one that is augmented by atoms and bits. And our selves are not separated across these two spheres as some dualistic ‘first’ and ‘second’ self, but is instead an augmented self.”

㻣㻜㻌 㻌

This is increasingly obvious with mobile technology. Google has recently released new information on their latest working project called Google Glass, a headset that places smartphone functions directly before its user’s field of vision: finally, the Internet is no longer a separate space (“cyberspace”), but is a sixth sense in navigating the spaces around us already. I believe that my generation is more open to accepting augmented reality theory because many of us have been privileged to grow up with access to a computer always at hand. “Black Sun Contact,” the second section and title piece of this book, is very much about this experience. When I look back on my childhood, the memories that first come to mind are of old videogames played, podcasts watched, and activities on the computer—strictly digital memories. It has only been four years since I first left home, but it already reflects the place I no longer remember: it is all refurbished strip malls, a lack of real friends. Even family members are either no longer alive or have moved away. Yet the digital artifacts of my life, from my past, have remained constant, are forever online. This is why the augmented reality is such an important focus of my work: I am a product of both the physical and the digital. I could very much find a way to live a life free from digital technology (humans are adaptable), but networked culture and virtual realities are very much a part of my past and who I am. What is it like to be constantly aware of one’s place within a vast network? I began a narrative with a focus constantly shifting from one association or space to another, attempting to utilize the schizophrenic imagery of mass media and the kinetic energy of a video game. I drew from Blake Butler, a favorite fiction author of mine whose work employs surreal, kaleidoscopic imagery across wild narratives that explore not the popular trope of the dystopian city of the future, but instead the dystopian suburbia of today. In his books, things fold into themselves and houses are larger inside than they appear to be from the outside—a nightmarish reality combining the dreams of the American window shopper with the hell experienced every day by the overstressed cubicle worker, and the boredom a teen feels toward his or her life as the entire night goes to waste watching reality television. I wished to do something similar by taking a moment of daily routine—in this case, letting pet

㻣㻝㻌 㻌

dogs out into the yard—and expressing it with all the distractions, images and actions that fight for our attention at every moment. If “Black Sun Contact” embodies a spatial system, the following and final section, “Vector,” is about subverting that system. “Vector” began as a section composed of grids of terms curated thematically from a word-bank of concepts and ideas pursued in the book. This could function as a cryptic code or map of the book itself; I see these “permutations” of words as a system, and their placement as a means of stripping the entire augmented reality to its barest fundamentals. As I played around with this section, I became interested in the flatness of these pages. After the previous two sections, the grid felt austere and uncomfortable, hinting at some kind of thing happening under the surface to contrast its orderliness. Because this would function as a code or key, I enjoyed the idea of an unknown thing operating past the symbols on the page, but I wanted to develop this idea and play with it further. I wanted to literally dissect the program as you would do a body, so I searched the Internet for two different files I could exploit for the project. The first file I found is one built in VRML, which stands for “virtual reality modeling language,” an outdated file format for creating 3D scenes and objects. VRML was the standard language for creating virtual reality chat rooms before Second Life gained a following. Second Life is a program that’s like a game, but with no goal except simply to live and socialize, an emulation of “real” life, which is the player’s “first life” referred to by the program’s name. (Jurgenson would certainly call this digital dualist for its apparent separation of the physical/“real” and digital). Players build a likeness, or avatar, and explore player-created worlds where they can chat with others, go to parties, go shopping, or just fly around like super heroes. Before Second Life was around, I spent much of my free time as an adolescent socializing in similar chat “worlds” built in VRML, whose graphics are primitive in comparison to Second Life’s. The second file I found is the Gameboy Advance title “Megaman Battle Network,” the first installment in a video game series taking place in the future in which everyone has a mobile device outfitted with a digital personal assistant called a NetNavi. In this world, everything is connected to the Internet, from traffic signals to

㻣㻞㻌 㻌

the kitchen stove, with the digital NetNavi exploring the digital realm as its user navigates the physical counterpart. It may be necessary to mention that this game very much separates the digital from the physical in terms of space, but actions within one realm have important consequences in the other, in which case I do not consider it particularly digital dualist. Taking a strategy from Kenneth Goldsmith, I opened each of these files into text editors to see what they would look like (Mandl). The VRML file opened as readable, orderly strings of code while the Gameboy game became translated and mangled into some kind of collateral damage of computer characters and symbols. This code was nonsensical—which is to say it is not the same code as the programming language that actually makes up the game—but some chaotic process of translation made it appear nonetheless. Once I had these codes, I experimented with collaging them into a unified piece, trying to form an understanding of what an ontological reading of computer language would be. Imagine “Plato’s heaven,” an abstract realm in which each sign we write or utter is connected to an idealized presence: the ideal shade of the simple red, or the ideal dog, ideal Man. In communicating, we are perhaps stumbling through Plato’s heaven with our eyes closed. But think of your favorite website, or just look at any computer screen, and try to wrap your head around the fact that everything there, all the graphics and sounds and functions, exist on the screen rendered from a programming or coding language that you may never see or understand, the digital’s own metaphysical presence. This is the ontology I wished to explore, and using Goldsmith’s practice of removing language from its contexts seemed like a good place to begin. Goldsmith’s work functions like transmedia Duchamp readymades, or Dadaist collage. But rather than simply mixing up the elements of a singular medium, what if elements of one medium were placed into an entirely different one? This is cyborg synesthesia: like seeing colors with a tongue or tasting the sound of a painting in the ear, a cyborg may try to play a video game in a text editor or open a photo in music editing software. What I see is not the same reality observed by someone who is colorblind; the world around us is experienced through our senses and cannot be observed in a truly objective way. A programmed world is different, though, in that the entire architecture is there, observable, and contained, because it has been entirely

㻣㻟㻌 㻌

created by humans—and programmed in language. Nature is chaos, but virtual game worlds—like man-made architecture, like urban planning—are constructed to emulate nature with meaning, with the experience of what it is like to be a human inhabiting a space. In a video game world there is the illusion of freedom of choice, but even the most well-produced games end up falling into a linear arc somewhere, an elastic plot that still begins at one place and inevitably ends in another. This is “real life”: you may choose, to an extent, what you would like to do with it, but much of your future is bound within the structure’s constraints that were in place before you were born. The fun for me in cutting up and splicing the code of a system I had built from previous sections of my book, then, is to cut through the surface and mix the language around in full freedom, patch-working something entirely new and filled with my own meaning and agency. As someone who has grown up during the weaving of digital technology into everyday life, I have my reservations of such technological developments, because—echoing the outcry over Google Glass’s ability to surveil users’ surroundings by recording and tagging individuals without their knowledge or consent (Hurst)— the augmented reality in which we live is in the service of capital. Funnily enough, after I had completed my travel across Google Streetview USA thinking about these things, Google conceded to violating the privacy of Streetview’s users—an announcement that came just weeks after the criticism towards Google Glass (Streitfeld). These reservations are the basis of the first section of this book, “Beyond Static Mountains.” Allow me first to demonstrate how Google Maps, of which Streetview is just one feature, augments my life in a way that does not free me but rather keeps me in-line, making my behaviors predictable. When I must run an errand in a place new to me in the city, I first check the address on Google Maps to get an idea as to how I am supposed to get there. Once ascending the subway stairs to ground level, I then orient myself with the cardinal directions and check the Google Maps application on my phone to show my almost-exact geographic location and the route to get from that point to my destination. The program tells me where to go, and I follow. Further, Google helps me package my time into neat little blocks by telling me how long this commute is likely to take.

㻣㻠㻌 㻌

As a lens through which I view the world, Google Maps becomes less a useful tool for me and instead becomes more a sense of surrounding, or a dependency. The app becomes a part of me. I am not taught how to navigate my city. Instead, I yield my body to the automated whims of productive, capitalist design. I do not travel the city, but its map. “Exploration” is not wandering through the streets as much as it is sliding my fingers across the screen, scrolling through the application’s interface at the big picture. This is nothing new to anyone familiar with Jean Baudrillard. In the very beginning of his book Simulacra and Simulations, Baudrillard cites Borges’ story “On Exactitude in Science,” which tells of an empire in which cartography has become so advanced that a map of the empire was created on a one-to-one scale. The map is therefore an exact representation of the original in scale—a simulacrum—and over time the map fades into tatters in the desert. In Borges’ story, the land prevails over the territory. But Baudrillard says this is no longer the case in our post-modern world: “The territory no longer precedes the map, nor does it survive it. It is nevertheless the map that precedes the territory—the precession of simulacra—that engenders the territory” (Baudrillard 1). The “precession of simulacra” is a situation in which the representation precedes that which it seeks to represent. This is what I mean when I explain that I walk through a map of the city and not the city itself: whether following the directions on my phone or the subliminal directions of architecture, advertising and authority (“Do not walk on this grass”), I am—all of us are—navigating a city of decoration and function, a spectacle or simulacrum of nature, community and order, without any real reference to my desires as an autonomous being. Of course, just like other users, I too turn to Google Maps because I want to be directed: there is a place I need to go, and I do not want distractions in getting there. Therefore, Google Maps functions as an innovation that makes my life easier—but unfortunately, my life is one in a society geared towards efficiency and service of work, for which the truer motives of Google rise to the surface. To make this matter more clearly, I will describe another ubiquitous innovation that allowed people the freedom of free movement that we take largely for granted today in the United States: the automobile. In Situationist Theses on Traffic, Debord notes that “commuting time, as Le Corbusier rightly noted, is a surplus

㻣㻡㻌 㻌

labor which correspondingly reduces the amount of ‘free’ time” (57). Why should these critics regard one of “the most notable material [symbols] of the notion of happiness” in our society as an extension of labor time? The answer is almost too obvious, for even though the employee is not working while on his or her commute, the commute does take time out of his or her day that could be spent on a number of different activities. These blocks of time are not spent working but are in the service of work. The automobile allows one to break out and travel perhaps, but also further segments and appropriates one’s time to better serve the goals of the capitalist program—just as Google’s ubiquitous world map choreographs my habitual trail through the city, and has the capacity to tell me where to go, when to leave and arrive. In a sense, then, we might say that the augmented reality in which we live is a relationship in which the digital colonizes the physical. Today the pioneering attitude is set on virtual space as we upload ourselves onto social media, finance our online bank accounts, sext. These services exist both for the convenience or entertainment of the consumer and to make money for the developer, most often by selling users’ personal date to better build ad profiles, to better bait them into buying things through the use of ruthless and invasive advertising. Google Maps, for example, uses my searches to advertise the local businesses existing within the geographical space I am currently exploring through their service. Utilizing Google’s Ad Sense network, I can click a location on the map to see its page on Google’s own social network Google Plus. Meanwhile, when I check Google Maps on my phone while on-the-go, the program is pinged with my exact whereabouts. If Google—whose corporate motto is “do no evil”—does not take the measures to conquer all aspects of our digital interactions, another corporation certainly will, perhaps with less publicly altruistic-sounding purposes. If the Internet used to be a freely democratic and utopian place where “information wants to be free,” today it is a capitalist space in which services must be monetized. Therefore, I find that this notion of inevitability towards a monetized surveillance culture functions similarly towards old attitudes of Manifest Destiny: we individuals pursue the technocratic, adventurous future we have dreamed of in science fiction (just substitute the Christian God for the promise that technology will heal any issue nature or society throws our way). And because it is fed to us as progress, we will give ourselves up to the program that seeks to optimize us

㻣㻢㻌 㻌

to tackle its own needs. I made my own journey to the West in Google Streetview, not to conquer the space as those before me did in the project of westward expansion, but rather to explore places I had never been and to use the technology that allows me to do so on my own terms (more on that below). In Google’s pursuit to record a street-level view of the entire world, the camera colonizes space into an abstraction, into data. In his book Towards a Philosophy of Photography, Vilem Flusser asserts that to meet the demands of photographers who use their artistic expertise to push the limits of what the camera can do, the camera adapts over generations of production to become more automatic, to increase its arsenal with every object, scene or subject it shoots. It may not be coincidental that the camera “shoots,” utilizing the language of violence, and perhaps there is something in the Native American belief that when one is shot by a camera, one’s soul has been taken. Strapped to the roofs of cars crawling all over the world, Google Streetview cameras “capture” land across the Earth’s surface to better automate our motions—or at least to satisfy our curiosity for distant locales without fostering ambition to leave mundane life behind: “Discover Antarctica,” Google’s website encourages, not with travel information, but rather with a link to the continent on Streetview, to tempt a new pioneering attitude in cubicles and offices all over the world. The camera is not autonomous: as a technology, it cannot colonize in this way without the human. The camera has an eye but no means of mobilization. Google Streetview cars function as a mechanical chimera: a metallic, motorized body with an all-seeing eye atop, a human controlling the functions from within its belly. This chimera utilizes the human for its own purpose: as a brain to direct the body that directs the eye. Is the chimera a parasite in our human world, using us to bury our own graves, so to speak? Or are we parasites living off the technological augmented reality run by algorithmic processes, like the “good” bacteria our bodies play host to and could not continue to function without? This question is worth asking, but I must admit that I do not have an answer. When I explore the country on Google Streetview, I am another human providing feedback, adding to the consciousness, to the chimera. But without full freedom, my movements are limited only to what the Google Streetview program allows. I may explore via streets, but no open fields or alleyways. The free flow from space

㻣㻣㻌 㻌

to space is an illusion; the user’s experience is collaged from finite segments of the network, granting the illusion of control—an illusion of a life lived, perhaps—for the user. However, the algorithm, not the user, is the most powerful party in this relationship of humans and machines, a force to create an efficient and “realistic” simulation of the observable natural world—and it uses that goal to conceal its limitations. This all paints a paranoid, bleak image of our present and future. To respond to the problems raised above, I turn to the past century, which had its own share of tumultuous events. From the 1950s onward, especially around the time of the May 1968 revolts in France, the Situationist International opposed capitalist forces and sought to create their own “situations” to fulfill the desires they felt material culture could not. One such method was psychogeography, described by Guy Debord as “the study of the specific effects of the geographical environment … on the emotions and behavior of individuals” (Debord 45). The first step to be taken to combat the domination of space—virtual, physical or something in between—is to become aware of the space and the forces upon it. A prime example of this may be your local grocery store, whose products are carefully placed to subconsciously encourage you to buy unnecessary products that you hadn’t gone there for. The psychogeographic approach popularized by the Situationists is the dérive, a free wandering or drift through the environment, disregarding efficient routes or direction. This in turn was inspired by the walking practices of the Surrealists, who regarded the journey to and occupation of a destination to be an art form in itself, wandering aimlessly through the unconscious forces of the city. Conscious rationality has created the orderly features of the city that seek to control us (traffic lights, a grid of streets, etc.) so to wander about aimlessly left to one’s own autonomy, to become purposefully lost, celebrates the unconscious chaos of a colony of people stacked atop one another, helping to make the whole human project happen. I have to make a concession here. In writing the first section of this book, I sought to emulate the dérive by producing a representation of my travelling across the country via Streetview. I formatted it in a way so that the reader could choose whatever paths of reading he or she wished to follow. I saw this as a way in which I could liberate the space, the representation of space, under Google’s ownership for the average user or reader. First, this completely goes against at least what the Surrealists thought about their walking practice: on their

㻣㻤㻌 㻌

walks, there would be no documentation of the act having been transpired, saving only the flyers that announced the walks. Second, I found that while I gave the reader some control over the reading experience, what I was presenting is still the representation of a singular person’s experience. I created a psychogeography in the sense that I took a critical look at my surroundings and how they operated (not just the images I saw, but also the systems and technological methods that delivered them to me) and how I as a mind and body responded to the journey (trying to find freedom while on the strictly linear path of Interstate 80, or seeking relief from the fatigue of sitting in a chair clicking a mouse for eight hours at a time). While I believe this was a liberating experience for myself (having written it), I lost sight of the fact that the experience of reading was not so ideal: the reader is still left on a kind of track with images delivered. I therefore hope that the project, and the ideas raised here, may inspire others to become conscious of their surroundings and, like the Situationists, employ strategies with which to subvert control in daily life. Some may look at my poetry and immediately think of Charles Olson's projective verse, citing a similarity in the form or the look of the page. In his essay "Projective Verse," Olson describes the titular style of verse as one which employs a meter based upon the breath, the breath being the force that carries the language, gives it shape. This brings a focus on the syllable, and I would argue a poetics of direction, in which the recitation of the poetry is spelled out plainly as the letters written on the page. The breath, for Olson, is the poem's "place of origin and its destination," and without the spatial organization of language based upon the breath, the writing and reading of a poem loses its force (Olson 3). I feel Olson's projective verse is one of presence, and I resist the idea that a poem must be either heard or read aloud in order to experience its full effect. While Olson's white space and gaps may be read as pauses, directions for the breath, I see my organization on the page as encouraging a lack of direction. Clumps of words are isolated affects separated spatially, not in the temporal linearity that comes of one's reading aloud. While confronted with white space the reader may pause in a similar fashion to reading projective verse, but there is no specific measure encouraging a reader to move at a certain pace from one affect or cluster of words to the other. It remains open not just how to

㻣㻥㻌 㻌

interpret, but how to read and navigate, an inefficient map of the tectonics of a digitally augmented natural world. As the digital and physical become more enmeshed, we must take care of the systems and algorithms set in place that seek to bind us under the guise of new freedoms. I do not want at all to suggest that technology is inherently “evil” or poses a threat to society; rather, like in the earlier examples of the automobile or Manifest Destiny, it might be said that these problems have existed beforehand and new technologies present new spaces or situations in which we must confront them. So I take to writing, to utilize these technologies in subversive acts.

㻤㻜㻌 㻌

WORKS CITED Baudrillard, Jean. Simulacra & Simulation. Ann Arbor, MI: University of Michigan Press, 1994. Print. Debord, Guy. "Situationist Theses on Traffic." Trans. Array. Situationist International Anthology. Ken Knabb. 3rd ed. Berkeley, CA: Bureau of Public Secrets, 1981. 56-59. Print. Debord, Guy. "Definitions." Trans. Array. Situationist International Anthology. Ken Knabb. 3rd ed. Berkeley, CA: Bureau of Public Secrets, 1981. 45-46. Print. Flusser, VileÏm. Towards a Philosophy of Photography. London: Reaktion, 2000. Print. Hurst, Mark. "The Google Glass feature no one is talking about." Creative Good. Creative Good Inc, 28 Feb 2013. Web. Web. 18 Mar. 2013. <>. Jurgenson, Nathan. "Digital Dualism versus Augmented Reality." Cyborgology. The Society Pages, 24 Feb 2011. Web. Web. 18 Mar. 2013. <>. Mandl, Dave. "Kenneth Goldsmith." Believer. Oct 2011: n. page. Web. 18 Mar. 2013. <>. Nakashima, Ellen, and Craig Whitlock. "With Air Force." Washington Post 02 Jan 2011, n. pag. Web. 18 Mar. 2013. <>. Olson, Charles. "Projective Verse." Poetry Foundation. The Poetry Foundation, 13 Oct 2009. Web. 18 Mar 2013. <>. Streitfeld, David. "Google Concedes That Drive-By Prying Violated Privacy." New York Times 12 Mar 2013, A1. Print. <>.

㻤㻝㻌 㻌

Thank you Thank you Thank you

A huge thanks to Laura Elrick for her direction and help throughout the entire process of making this book. Big thanks to Manuela Cain, Annaliese Downey, Michael Iovino, Natalia Panzer, Annie Paradis and Michael Small for their feedback on this book's many iterations.