Dear 2040,
If there's anyone still alive in 2040, it will only be because we did more than stand in line to vote on this crisp fall day. It will be because we stood up to monopoly media, tech oligarchs, & all the recrudescent bigotries of the early 21c, & refused to let them set the rules or keep the score. It will be because we individually decided that there was something in life more important than maintaining a cool vibe & flow of toys, endorphins & seamless fantasies. It will be because, after decades of trying to ignore that racket in the background, we chose to take our stand & fight.
(via)
"Can we simply… turn off the overfitting?"
"sonnet using a word by Majmudar"
Birnam Wood is come to Dunsinane,
& soon we'll find his head upon a pole...
or so the morning's ecstasy would hail:
soapbubble made of stone.
Groyperdammerung among the cars
returning to a pumpkin from a coach.
If not the Reflecting Pool, you else must parch
O scarecrow in God-Man clothes.
This long, strange trip or detour cruel
or bed we made ourselves by being dumb
ends in a margent-lit unpadded room
& a dying animal.
Birnam Wood, if we would carry trees
much lighter than our dreams' unceasing buzz.
This is the second new "apocalypse bingo sheet" i've had to make, sheesh.
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