I scribbled the following, sitting on the cold hard concrete of the city:
This is the other side. This is the side that eschews all forms of pomposity, vanity, indeed any care taken over appearance or manner. This is the sleepin’ rough, carrying-little techno-savy activist. This is the only time I will listed to non-folky/classical music. I want to change the world, but this time by fuckin’ shit up, not polite conversation. This is when the code of the eco-warrior means something (though only so long as it’s a sunny day, or I’m ensconced in front of a terminal. The washing up no longer matters; I’d be happy in a tin shed with computer and bike parts sharing concrete floor space with my swag. At times like this I want never to buy anything that is not ‘essential’ – read: able to further the cause, the fight against the techno-commercial juggernaut that rules all of our spaces. I want to get lost in the perfect beauty of the code, and realise an order to the world that my body will never admit. I fit my place in this sci-fi universe (and I do not mean ‘the internet’, whatever the fuck that is), a place where there is always a precedent or recommendation to follow but where there is no control from above. I am a cog in the machine, one that does not matter, but thus we all are, all alike but recieving no commands from HQ. Each does eis own thing (including making up new pronouns), and we all work together; no-one is in charge, but everyone works towards a common goal. And that is the goal.
Afterwards went and coded for five hours.