I recently came across a Vietnamese film, The Floating Lives (Canh Dong Bat Tan), which was released in 2010 by Nguyen Phan Quang Binh. Although this film is a few years old, the issues that the director addresses still feel fresh and progressive from my perspective as an Indonesian woman
“Who runs the world?” I ask because I have complaints. The little man tells me the box for such things is down the hall. I stumble, clutching my manifestos. If only the masses would read these typed blueprints for utopia then the world would work, because I am a mechanic
And in that republic, they built a machine, a machine of a million names, but one purpose, cruelty. Inflicting pain was a virtue of nettles on bare skin, leaving kindness’s soothing balm treason. It is why I stopped searching this world for guidance, instead pilgriming to myself to find the
They insert their hands in my mouth, these passerby pedestrians in the in-between electric places that simultaneously exist but do not exist, (much like a deceased living cat in a physics experiment), and with errant fingers feel my tongue reading my words like braille chiseled on electric, hovering boards
When I was a young child, I would lay awake at night and travel. I had read one of those late 80s magazines about everything supernatural and, along with a young adult novel whose title I forgot long ago, I was summarily convinced that I should, at the very least,
We matter because we are matter, and if we get purposefully madder and madder and madder we can’t be little by being belittled.
Collective intelligence currently exists in the form of mobile devices, search engines, democratized content, and social media. A move from this current state to one where we are connected via implant would represent a dramatic shift in human condition, a grand unification into one unimaginably powerful cybernetic creature. This affects