The cyberpunkapocalypse is now. It is not amused or confused by irony. It understands bodily destruction and the transcendence of the physical being. The cyberpunkapocalypse respects destruction, endurance, and temporality.
The cyberpunkapocalypse smokes cigarettes (but not in front of babies), swears (often about not making babies), drinks coffee and kombucha, cut itself maybe, and does yoga, sometimes. The cyberpunkapocalypse prays. It wears stockings when it wants to, shaves when it wants to, read the Beauty Myth and went to see Hair on Broadway. The cyberpunk apocalypse may be in Shanghai by now, it may be under a rock in the Yucatan Peninsula. It is hard to say. It travels like the things that are smaller than the things we know now, but are now.
The cyberpunkapocalypse will, and has already anonymously googled you.
The cyberpunkapocalypse might break up with you on Thursday, and get drunk with you on Friday, and go swimming with you on Saturday. Even though you cannot be together forever, the cyberpunkapocalypse will always love you.
The cyberpunkapocalypse knows it will eventually be “put down,…out of its own misery.” The cyberpunkapocalypse will be pretentious because that means wikipedia-ing everything interesting and reading all abstracts but never the entire texts of Guy Debord, Buckminster Fuller, Daniel Pinchbeck, Christopher Lasch, Tristen Tzara, and Fredrick Nietche. You will be offended, but the cyberpunkapocalypse and you will still be friends and communicate amicably.
The cyberpunkapocalypse acknowledges brand consciousness, colonialism, and antagonism. It neither ignores nor advocates for reconstructive surgery or deconstructive psychology. Bike riding and plane flights to visit its mother are some of the cyberpunkapocalpse’s many hobbies; also gardening, JZ, Lao Tzu, scientific journals and tarot card readings. The cyberpunkapocalypse is neither blown away nor unamused by dissonance, free verse, zombie films, and the advertisements on hot 97. It watches many blockbuster hits and underground movies. The cyberpunkapocalypse has done every assignment on learning to love you more (.com). Knowing the cyberpunkapocalypse can seem affected and frightening.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is stuck in an extended form of childhood in which it is unaware of gender, race, or class divisions between people. But the cyberpunkapocalypse has read about these things. The cyberpunkapocalypse is blood diamonds and rooftop gardens, graffiti, and open space. The cyberpunkapocalypse is “pumping you full of lead.” The cyberpunkapocalypse is reading an informational pamphlet about the side effects and knowing “they” are not telling you everything. The cyberpunkapocalypse is the scientist and the copy editor and the research assistant and the design intern, and the print shop, and the media director, and the stock owners, and the company staff manager that have nothing to do with it. The cyberpunkapocalypse is gaining awareness.
The cyberpunkapocalypse forgot about the atomic bomb, and then learned about it again from a lyric in a Bob Marley song. The cyberpunkapocalypse is done with idol worship. The cyberpunkapocalypse has studied many languages and is fluent in practically none. The cyberpunkapocalypse keeps much of its information outside its corporeal body. Only its phone knows how to get in contact with its most important family and friends. Sometimes the cyberpunkapocalypse feels helpless. In these cases it tries to relearn how to grow its food, sew its clothes, fix its vehicle, and build its housing structures. The cyberpunkapocalypse is privileged. Though for a time, maybe even now, the cyberpunkapocalypse washes dishes at below minimum wage. There are pockets of the cyberpunkapocalypse in the third world and rampant under-utilized parts of it in the first world. Everyone who has enough mind/time space to think, is the cyberpunkapocalypse. The cyberpunkapocalypse feels guilty. The cyberpunkapocalypse is made to feel ashamed.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is trying to be infectious. It thinks it is falsely performing for a child when it plays peek-a-boo, but the truth is playing peek-a-boo really makes the cyberpunkpunkapocalypse surprised and happy. The cyberpunkapocalypse is the sound your digital camera makes when it goes click. The cyberpunkapocylpse lives in a world that is not ready. The cyberpunkapocalypse values the real and public spaces. The cyberpunkapocalypse is hugging you, right now, but you can’t feel it because both of you are too awkward and nervous, or so comfortable it means nothing.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is using a rolodex and Polaroid film, and a phone book to prop up the desk in which it will write its own story. The cyberpunkapocalypse will still break up with you on Thursday. The cyberpunkapocalypse is learning to rationalize hurts, and to buy things off itunes only when it needs too.
The cyberpunkapocalypse pitched a tent in the woods off the highway and got fried chicken and sushi in Bushwich rationally, at the same time that evening, it didn’t come to the event at cyberpunkapocalypse.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is hiding. The cyberpunkapocalypse didn’t mean to go shopping at Bloomingdales. The cyberpunkapocalypse didn’t mean to get featured in a magazine. The cyberpunkapocalypse liked the attention but tried not to.
The cyberpunapocalypse retains the right to cover its hair, face, and forearms in modesty, to be chaste, go skinny dipping, masturbate regularly or never, attend church, maintain traditional customs, break political correctness and formalities. The cyberpunkapocalypse has safe sex and supports roe v wade.
You will think that the cyberpunkapocalypse is white, but that’s because you looked it up wrong.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is being disappointed by everything that is exciting; the cyberpunkapocalypse has an idealistic heart and an argument against everything.
The cyberpunkapocalypse could feel your hatred when you asked if it wanted paper or plastic and then listened to that girl who sings the song about “crying in the isle” of the grocery store. The cyberpunkapocalypse could have looked that song up for you and then mentioned it here by name, but that would have been too easy. The cyberpunkapocalypse is like the sagging old carpet at the UN building that everybody walks on and nobody pays to fix it but it doesn’t mind really. The cyberpunkapocalypse is waiting for when it feels comfortable using a capital letter again. The cyberpunkapocalypse knows that the truth is an illusion but wants to believe it. The cyberpunkapocalypse respects its past, analyses it’s present, and has no idea what is coming.
The cyberpunkapocalypse needs me/you.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is a SPACE in Pittsburgh PA with a:
A storefront
A garden
A residency program
A business
A lecture room
A library
A gallery
An online blog
A monthly publication
The cyberpunkapocalypse smokes cigarettes (but not in front of babies), swears (often about not making babies), drinks coffee and kombucha, cut itself maybe, and does yoga, sometimes. The cyberpunkapocalypse prays. It wears stockings when it wants to, shaves when it wants to, read the Beauty Myth and went to see Hair on Broadway. The cyberpunk apocalypse may be in Shanghai by now, it may be under a rock in the Yucatan Peninsula. It is hard to say. It travels like the things that are smaller than the things we know now, but are now.
The cyberpunkapocalypse will, and has already anonymously googled you.
The cyberpunkapocalypse might break up with you on Thursday, and get drunk with you on Friday, and go swimming with you on Saturday. Even though you cannot be together forever, the cyberpunkapocalypse will always love you.
The cyberpunkapocalypse knows it will eventually be “put down,…out of its own misery.” The cyberpunkapocalypse will be pretentious because that means wikipedia-ing everything interesting and reading all abstracts but never the entire texts of Guy Debord, Buckminster Fuller, Daniel Pinchbeck, Christopher Lasch, Tristen Tzara, and Fredrick Nietche. You will be offended, but the cyberpunkapocalypse and you will still be friends and communicate amicably.
The cyberpunkapocalypse acknowledges brand consciousness, colonialism, and antagonism. It neither ignores nor advocates for reconstructive surgery or deconstructive psychology. Bike riding and plane flights to visit its mother are some of the cyberpunkapocalpse’s many hobbies; also gardening, JZ, Lao Tzu, scientific journals and tarot card readings. The cyberpunkapocalypse is neither blown away nor unamused by dissonance, free verse, zombie films, and the advertisements on hot 97. It watches many blockbuster hits and underground movies. The cyberpunkapocalypse has done every assignment on learning to love you more (.com). Knowing the cyberpunkapocalypse can seem affected and frightening.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is stuck in an extended form of childhood in which it is unaware of gender, race, or class divisions between people. But the cyberpunkapocalypse has read about these things. The cyberpunkapocalypse is blood diamonds and rooftop gardens, graffiti, and open space. The cyberpunkapocalypse is “pumping you full of lead.” The cyberpunkapocalypse is reading an informational pamphlet about the side effects and knowing “they” are not telling you everything. The cyberpunkapocalypse is the scientist and the copy editor and the research assistant and the design intern, and the print shop, and the media director, and the stock owners, and the company staff manager that have nothing to do with it. The cyberpunkapocalypse is gaining awareness.
The cyberpunkapocalypse forgot about the atomic bomb, and then learned about it again from a lyric in a Bob Marley song. The cyberpunkapocalypse is done with idol worship. The cyberpunkapocalypse has studied many languages and is fluent in practically none. The cyberpunkapocalypse keeps much of its information outside its corporeal body. Only its phone knows how to get in contact with its most important family and friends. Sometimes the cyberpunkapocalypse feels helpless. In these cases it tries to relearn how to grow its food, sew its clothes, fix its vehicle, and build its housing structures. The cyberpunkapocalypse is privileged. Though for a time, maybe even now, the cyberpunkapocalypse washes dishes at below minimum wage. There are pockets of the cyberpunkapocalypse in the third world and rampant under-utilized parts of it in the first world. Everyone who has enough mind/time space to think, is the cyberpunkapocalypse. The cyberpunkapocalypse feels guilty. The cyberpunkapocalypse is made to feel ashamed.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is trying to be infectious. It thinks it is falsely performing for a child when it plays peek-a-boo, but the truth is playing peek-a-boo really makes the cyberpunkpunkapocalypse surprised and happy. The cyberpunkapocalypse is the sound your digital camera makes when it goes click. The cyberpunkapocylpse lives in a world that is not ready. The cyberpunkapocalypse values the real and public spaces. The cyberpunkapocalypse is hugging you, right now, but you can’t feel it because both of you are too awkward and nervous, or so comfortable it means nothing.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is using a rolodex and Polaroid film, and a phone book to prop up the desk in which it will write its own story. The cyberpunkapocalypse will still break up with you on Thursday. The cyberpunkapocalypse is learning to rationalize hurts, and to buy things off itunes only when it needs too.
The cyberpunkapocalypse pitched a tent in the woods off the highway and got fried chicken and sushi in Bushwich rationally, at the same time that evening, it didn’t come to the event at cyberpunkapocalypse.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is hiding. The cyberpunkapocalypse didn’t mean to go shopping at Bloomingdales. The cyberpunkapocalypse didn’t mean to get featured in a magazine. The cyberpunkapocalypse liked the attention but tried not to.
The cyberpunapocalypse retains the right to cover its hair, face, and forearms in modesty, to be chaste, go skinny dipping, masturbate regularly or never, attend church, maintain traditional customs, break political correctness and formalities. The cyberpunkapocalypse has safe sex and supports roe v wade.
You will think that the cyberpunkapocalypse is white, but that’s because you looked it up wrong.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is being disappointed by everything that is exciting; the cyberpunkapocalypse has an idealistic heart and an argument against everything.
The cyberpunkapocalypse could feel your hatred when you asked if it wanted paper or plastic and then listened to that girl who sings the song about “crying in the isle” of the grocery store. The cyberpunkapocalypse could have looked that song up for you and then mentioned it here by name, but that would have been too easy. The cyberpunkapocalypse is like the sagging old carpet at the UN building that everybody walks on and nobody pays to fix it but it doesn’t mind really. The cyberpunkapocalypse is waiting for when it feels comfortable using a capital letter again. The cyberpunkapocalypse knows that the truth is an illusion but wants to believe it. The cyberpunkapocalypse respects its past, analyses it’s present, and has no idea what is coming.
The cyberpunkapocalypse needs me/you.
The cyberpunkapocalypse is a SPACE in Pittsburgh PA with a:
A storefront
A garden
A residency program
A business
A lecture room
A library
A gallery
An online blog
A monthly publication
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