Anarchic Primitivism

The plane will be in its initial descent, bucking and rolling through the night air, everyone on board as tense as cats. From your seat you can look up and watch the same dumb action movie at least six times on as many screens where it seems that Asian gangsters are always being killed by Scarlett Johansson. The plane drops ten feet from its course and everyone goes weightless in their seatbelts. Tremendous torsion, incomprehensible velocity, the flimsy twist of the wings, the force of colliding weather systems you’re punching thru, the endless roar: these are all signs of a violence that you do not wish to think of. An unthinkable catastrophe, not at the borders of modern life, but always already right in the middle of it. Which is why you should probably upgrade your iPhone to a dog and move into a yurt in the woods of northern Minnesota to live a simple bucolic life off the grid, one devoid of all pop figurations and technological ecstasy, out there beyond the simulation. But then again really, bro, who am I kidding.

 


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