Domain | Manifestations | Contentions | Infornography | Trash

[A-Com./Manifestations: 1.03]


[A-Com./Manifestations: 1.02]

'Tis the season, and the time to get /comfy/, but not *too* comfy, because not everyone on Neocities are here to get comfy - some are here to fill a void, to try to alleviate a craving through consumption. Let us hold a moment of agonoize to address these creatures...

Escaping mundanity, is it? Coping with boredom, are we? You made a web page, but don't have any idea what you're going to do with it? Have you asked yourself "what should I write about?" or "what do I want to do with my site?" recently?

If so, then you are going about this the wrong way; Instead of making the point an excuse in order to have something to say, you ought to treat expression as an excuse for you having a point. Unless you don't have a point, what good can come out of anything that you're doing if the only justification you can think of is "well, I did it because I could do it"? You get a fuck and dump culture, empty signs, and virtual trash - trash so worthless that it amounts to less than anything you could find from your local flaming dumpster.

The point of the point is the point.

So, get to the point!

The Wired is a collection of worlds within a world - a massive accumulation of world-screens open to anyone willing to connect. By no more than three clicks you could momentarily enter another person's world, get to see what they get to see, experience, think and do. But how many of us can say that they do so while making the most of it? How much of it all is worth seeing, experiencing and thinking about?

Most of us, we, the hollow ones, consume things that are presented to us in third person, while doing so ourselves from the third person: it is not an "I" who goes through the thoughts, feelings, experiences and activities put on display, but an outsourced subject who does the thinking, feeling, experiencing and acting for us, which we then internalize and mistake to be our thoughts, feelings and experiences, like a phantom leech extracting the essence from the real in order to keep itself barely in existence.

This doesn't merely concern the receiving part of you who "does" the consuming. It can hardly be called an "I" who does the choosing and clicking either, for the process itself is nothing more than a combination of factors consisting, firstly, of our ANS's intentionality displacing effect as a response to a pre-conditioned, outwards-projected expectation of a dopamine surge according to a specific, constantly re-rehearsed, and looping schema, secondly, of our consciousness' complicity in this relinquishment, in its want to rid itself off of responsibility and, hence, of control, and to shift its role from driver to the role of passenger in his own vehicle, and thirdly, of the algorithm's inanimate, inflexible, and comprehension lacking makeup, that is based on a caricatural model of man and her apparent weaknesses, that resulted in the most efficient squandering and diminishing of her precious vitae.

Neocities ought to be more than this; a place of self-direction where you can open up yourself, dissect yourself, learn, grow and discover yourself either by taking yourself as your own subject of study or by being reflected through others back to you - a place where people don't have to know your name, sex, age, your occupation or what kind of fish you ate yesterday in order to get to know you, because nobody really cares. So, in this hallowed time all I ask of you is...

Less slacking and more slashing!

A-comist cat

[A-Com./Manifestations: 1.01]

Hollow, Aimless, Inactive, Stricken, Tacky, Apathetic, Wilted, Isolated, Tedious, Trivial, Unsatisfied.

Too fucked up to even care anymore...

Cut the bullshit! Stop spreading the fault! And while you're at it, cut your umbilical cord, you don't have a need for it anymore.

In this regression you have to try to cut your break. Latch onto anything you can find.

When you've consumed enough clutter, you'll have to start slashing and cutting away the excessives. Open up everything you've gathered. Dissect and vivisect all you can get your hands on. Re-evaluate EVERYTHING!

"The fuck am I supposed to do?"

Do something, anything to get off your ass, for fuck's sake!

If you think that you've wasted your life up until this point, then observe what's left of you now. "This is me and this is the situation I am in right now", should be your mantra.

Let the sheer horror of passing time petrify you without distractions. No comfort. No caressing. No easy-going. No sympathetic ears.

Only horror.