When attempts to think outside the box have led to more boxes within boxes for the collectivist to nurture their neurotic machinations in the effort to escape the natural world and all its perceived inconvenience, to escape themselves and their being in the here and now.

A magnified eyeball stares at the ass end of our submissive BDSM friend, who is in this compromised position of being upside down, bound and dissociated out of his or her (or its) mind, gazing into the void through the lens of the latest in virtual technology. Not only do we want to see what they’re seeing, we want to see them from every conceivable and forbidden angle. We know we’re not alone. We want to see the void and we want to see the ass of the being gazing into the void, and we want to see the asses of every other voyeur who needs to record and perceive and share their experience of the BDSM friend who’s taking one for the team. One great big infinite kaleidoscopic fractal of voyeurs, asses, void, and shit.

The portable god that fits in the pocket, soon to fit in your brain and bloodstream, the last thing you never knew existed but now you can’t live without, to give you some compensatory sense of autonomy while it acts and functions as the dictator of your perception, just like television back in the day. What matters is that you feel like you’re in control in this voyeuristic headspace that has eclipsed the child’s forgotten questions of Who Am I and What Am I Doing Here.

We wouldn’t be able to hold these questions for very long anyway because our attention span has been reduced to that of a goldfish in this hypnotic digital virtual space where we can get away with shit far worse than murder and the answers have all been programmed for you anyway.

As a socially conditioned pursuit of undefined happiness, the posthuman world doesn’t have much to do with the cultivation of self-understanding or any semblance of wisdom but there will always be a subliminal recitation of a narrative. And it works until it doesn’t.

Acknowledging the upgrading of collective hypnosis and control for the cheap imitation of life that it is, one can accept this as an invitation to live, to explore the imagination beyond the compulsion of vice, rediscovering human interaction, to decide if you’re here to create or be herded like a factory farm animal. To acknowledge the compromises that been made and tacitly agreed upon and to decide for yourself who you are and why you are here.