One guy was talking about the processes. And he wanted everyone to think about all of the little details lost to memory. He wanted us to witness each bit of what we take a step back from and isolate, and understand the perceived posterity it will gain just by aging, just by being selected. But because culture devolves into smaller and smaller binary computations even with elegant technological advancements, the series of zips and blips chosen most regularly mutate into a rarely developed commonality that flashes across the screens making up our existence. Maybe that commonality translates into an emotion. And maybe that emotion translates into action. Good. But more often, maybe that becomes a flickering candle snuffed into separation. Sure, you can still have anxiety over it, but you can also become numb to it. At some point, everything is on the screen, everything is an image. Everything is a computation. And nothing is supple like a voice, or the chemical transfer of belly upon belly. Are you taking something, or you making something? That’s the point he’s trying to make, and it’s an uncomfortable point, realizing how much of our lives undress to binary blips on some external hard drive that is then unplugged and filed away, the codex a stored afterthought that won’t develop into anything more in the future.
by Hank Cherry
