What are you going to do when you realize that everything you've ever done with a screen in front of you is completely and utterly without meaning? This massive void of television and cyberspace? It means next to nothing in the long run. It is merely a web like that of a spider, all it takes to ruin such a carefully constructed trap is for something bigger to walk through it oblivious. It is formless and empty of communication, though there are words everywhere. All the news is secondhand and the truth is in the substance of it, but no one sees it through the shapes, or the study of the mineral content. Artists work with news, with thoughts and causes. But in the end all it takes is the ceasefire of one of a million biological or technological processes to make all the hours amount to nothing.
Nothing is ever news. And if you forget to back up your hard drive, all is lost. So it goes.
Everything you've ever done on the internet amounts to a bunch of pixels and maybe a little bit of truth. Everything is meaningless. Even the months on the calendar are arbitrary time markers. We do not grow old in years, we grow old with time, and every moment of that time is a fraction of a pretty small whole. If all the things you think are your accomplishments can be summed up with pixels, what's the point of existence at all? You have to ask yourself if your virtual reality is really worth living in after all.
Don't miss the sunlight for the screen, because the big picture won't fit into a few million pixels, or a diploma frame on your wall. It doesn't fit into your trophy case, or onto your knick knack shelf. It won't fit into small minds or big pocketbooks. It probably won't even fit into your worldview. If you only ever bury yourself in the light of a CRT, one day you'll end up buried in the soil of an Earth you never really walked on.
// - (1) (2)