Dear Man, I fear that I encounter a distressing lack of men in my life, especially men that I would consider desirable lifelong companions. In fact, I have considered abandoning hope of ever finding an appropriate man, and instead resigning myself to cozy spinsterhood. What do you think of such a proposal? —Spinster Seeks Sisters
You are not alone in your distress. As we all know, bachelors are less and less prone to marry these days. They have other things to do with their time. There are nations to conquer, natives to quell, and resources to plunder. No wonder you haven’t found a husband. With all these global goings-on, there’s scarcely any time at home for English men to subjugate the local population of women.
Spinsterhood has become a matter of patriotic duty. Not only should you resign yourself to the company of your fellow spinsters, you should positively (and, if you are so inclined, literally) embrace them. Your country depends upon it.
Whatever you now find weird, ugly, uncomfortable and nasty about a new medium will surely become its signature. CD distortion, the jitteriness of digital video, the crap sound of 8-bit, all of these will be cherished and emulated as soon as they can be avoided. It’s the sound of failure: so much modern art is the sound of things going out of control, of a medium pushing to its limits and breaking apart. The distorted guitar sound is the sound of something too loud for the medium supposed to carry it. The blues singer with the cracked voice is the sound of an emotional cry too powerful for the throat that releases it. The excitement of grainy film, of bleached-out black and white, is the excitement of witnessing events too momentous for the medium assigned to record them.
Brian Eno, A Year With Swollen Appendices (via fleurlungs)
arabellesicardi, tagging you because I just feel like this relates to robot blogging somehow.
i reblogged this about 2 years ago ahaha. this was a formative thought about girlmonstering actually. everything in the world is exactly the same.