baal

“It’s not hard to perceive a certain deadening sameness that has begun to blanket the world under the sway of the Stacks, as the planet’s extraordinary diversity of lifeways yield to the unlimited perfect reproduction of the modes of taste, self-expression and subjectivity these new hegemons are tuned to. All of them are headquartered on the west coast of the United States, three of them within a ten-mile radius of Stanford University. They share a set of assumptions about who their user is, how that person lives and what they want; they share a grounding in the Californian Ideology18 and the casual technolibertarianism that has long reigned in the Bay Area; and latterly, they even tend to share a single overarching aesthetic.”
― Adam Greenfield, Radical Technologies: The Design of Everyday Life

“Y Monelle agregó: Te hablaré de los momentos. [...]
Piensa en el momento. Todo pensamiento que dura es una contradicción.
Ama el momento. Todo amor que dura es odio.
Sé sincero con el momento. Toda sinceridad que dura es una mentira.
Sé justo con el momento. Toda justicia que dura es injusticia.
Actúa en función del momento. Toda acción que dura es un reino difunto.
Siente la felicidad del momento. Toda felicidad que dura es desgracia.
Ten respecto por los momentos y no establezcas relaciones entre las cosas. [...]”
― Marcel Schwob, El libro de Monelle

“Virtually everywhere, decision algorithms are touted to us on the promise that they will permanently displace human subjectivity and bias. And yet in every instance we find that these ambitions are flouted, as the technologies that were supposed to enact them are captured and recuperated by existing concentrations of power. They will not spontaneously bring scarcity to an end, or capitalism, or oppression. Laminated into standing ways of doing, making and selling, the only thing they seem to be capable of spontaneously reproducing is more of the same.”
― Adam Greenfield, Radical Technologies: The Design of Everyday Life

“They were Diegueños. They were armed with short bows and they drew about the travelers and knelt and gave them water out of a gourd. They’d seen such pilgrims before and with sufferings more terrible. They eked a desperate living from that land and they knew that nothing excepting some savage pursuit could drive men to such plight and they watched each day for that thing to gather itself out of its terrible incubation in the house of the sun and muster along the edge of the eastern world and whether it be armies or plague or pestilence or something altogether unspeakable they waited with a strange equanimity.”
― Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian, or, the Evening Redness in the West