The ontology of the online world is manufactured or rather it is socially constructed. What is other than the things in this world are its progenitors or rather they are a priori to them, I suppose. In some way. Like it is what it is out here. In real life. It’s really going down. What you get once what’s happening happens and gets transmitted to the internet your tasting a whole 'nother experience. What you get by the time that real thing hits online is something not quite like what it was on earth. Media like this is just a carnival lens for an experience.
«Saturday, July 04, 2026
I don’t listen to music because
- Islam
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The highest form of musical expression is indeed the absence of music as a medium with notes and metres and tempo and volume and all that jazz. It gets to a point where if you never get to experience the kind of flavor I’m illustrating here you become trapped in an almost Euclidean frame of mind except with sounds not shapes.
Beep–beep–boop–boop–bop. Strings and things. The clash of cymbals. All that. Lyrics even to the extent that they remain at all relevant in today’s soundscapes. Somewhere between folk pontificate or a kind of agnoticism depending on the temper of the listener? You get me? No. Not yet. Buying music isn’t strange to you? Recording music? Digitizing it? Hearing it. It’s not there? The sounds. What are they for? I can reason with the tribal sensibility for the sake of science but cosmopolitically speaking where do we rest with this.
I suspect that the concept of intellectual property only exists because people know that the thought of someone trying to make their living in ~10–20 dollar increments is absurd. Why should publishing a book be a form of passive income?
I argue from a vantage of ironic privilege that artists, writers, intellectuals, empaths and whatever tortured “creative” folk need to work. Until they are rich. The idea that an idea is something that one must accrue income through in perpetuity is highfalutin. Is this supposed to be the protestant work ethic?
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