circles and ripples...
understand this: each of us is a stone in a pond. we each cast a ripple outwards. each ripple intersects, changing shape slightly, altering aspects of its course, shifting direction by fractions. we cannot control the ripples. we can barely control our own splash. and we never pause to consider the other objects entering the pond at each moment.
the right eyes can make judgements about the intersections of miniscule watery waves meandering across the surface. the right eyes can understand the type of stone that was cast, the weight of the object that caused these ripples. they want to know who threw the object, whose hands gripped it, the depth of the water, the speed of each circle spreading outward, all points on the compass under the gaze of the right eyes. those ripples. such eyes want to know each shore, every inch of surface area, each grain of sand touched by this sad water.
above us there is only the uncaring expanse of cold blue sky.
be aware of your own ripples, kids, because someone has the right eyes, these Orwellian days.
watch your backs. and the backs of your friends. and your friend's friends. and so on.
the right eyes can make judgements about the intersections of miniscule watery waves meandering across the surface. the right eyes can understand the type of stone that was cast, the weight of the object that caused these ripples. they want to know who threw the object, whose hands gripped it, the depth of the water, the speed of each circle spreading outward, all points on the compass under the gaze of the right eyes. those ripples. such eyes want to know each shore, every inch of surface area, each grain of sand touched by this sad water.
above us there is only the uncaring expanse of cold blue sky.
be aware of your own ripples, kids, because someone has the right eyes, these Orwellian days.
watch your backs. and the backs of your friends. and your friend's friends. and so on.
posted by christopher cunningham at 4:51 AM
9 Comments:
this from Luis:
"Orwellian days are here
& probing eyes are everywhere.
Chilling article in New Science
Technology. I'll probably be
getting some offers for
soccer products or travel pamphlets to exciting locales.
Who knows? A job offer from ESPN sports?"
yes, lucky for me my personal NSA agent emailed me and made sure that we didn't need any more info on the World Cup for your article. he said to tell you, "happy birthday, and have a good few days off." thank god he is looking out for me. the other day I went to the grocery and he called me up and said, "don't foget you're out of dog food, cc."
how helpful. and if he wasn't looking into the minutae of my existence, I might've forgot.
thanks NSA; we love Dear Leader et al.
i like the fact it's called semantic web.
that way the gubment has a way out.
reporter: "do you spy on the American public?"
gubment: "it's all a matter of semantics."
anyway. i'm amazed, too, at the amount of information people voluntarily post about themselves. it's crazy to do in these times.
i mean, i would never tell people i live in Salt Lake City, Utah, work as a chemist for a minor pharmaceutical company, am married with a dog, no kids, and write wry, little poems in my spare time. that would be foolish.
oh, and cc,
your personal NSA agent called me (why me?) and said to be sure to tell you to pick up some toilet paper. you're running low, apparently.
man, that guy is SO helpful. of course he's checking in with you. he called my mom last night and told here that I've been brushing my teeth with a regular toothbrush as my SonicCare brush is broken. she was relieved that my rigorous dentifrice program remained uninterrupted. I went ahead and Bluetoothed my Contact sheet to him, save some trouble/effort/wiretapping at the source.
I'll tell my guy to get into contact with your guy. wait, they already are...
..."semantics" *chuckle*
it's really madness that someone fifteen 'ripples' removed from me might someday cause me trouble. and there isn't SHIT I can do about it, much less find out about it.
that is, unless my NSA guy gives me a heads up.
maybe I should have him over for dinner.
hey, Tommy: you free for dinner tonight?
Tommy here:
sure. dinner sounds great.
end transmission.
Yeah, I've got my soccer-shaped toothbrush from Crest & the pizza from Little Caesars had the little toga guy kicking a soccer ball & the box said, SOCCER TO ME!
Just get the NSA guy some Little
Caesar's for five bucks, it won't be too expensive; just a little skimpy on the cheese, but lots of sauce & cheese sticks are offered for one dollar more.
Post a Comment
<< Home