Paul D. Miller aka Dj Spooky that Subliminal Kid
A Wildstyle Situation

dilation relation incantation: Tokyo/Shibuya

(the dilated/related peoples mix?): a Wildstyle situation (in memory of my grandmother)

Paul D. Miller a.k.a. Dj Spooky that Subliminal Kid

On screen in screen

... into the words. Emergent patterns of thought manifest, and basically, that's it. Immersion. Dispersion. cd:dir>goto>>phase/transition: URL: Open>>html>>source>>goto: and so yeah, it's like that and that's the way it is.... repeat/complete. The system is hungry.... it wants new in[puts]... The linguists say that there are only 6000 some odd languages on this planet, and so we feel the constraint. Thought put in cages, a planet put in parentheses by man made objects in the sky. Look up. The satellites reflect back, and basically, that's about the only light you can see in the sky when you're in the city. Optical pollution/critical beatdown: no source of light 'cept what we make. The satellites don't care. They just carry the info and we hope that they stay in place and reflect back a little of the material we send out there. How many light years has it been now that the first words and signals humanity has sent out to the cosmos? Birth cry or system shock? Check it: the Power of Babel... what's in a word? Abstract machines in coded language, we move like phantoms across the screen. The signal is deep. Flipmode:open>>W.E.B. Dubois, Double Consciousness is the screen, the words are the projector. Telegraph a choreography of sounds and significations and to the image make an inquiry: Like Humpty Dumpty said: its all about the situation before the




the color line on-line: permutation of language (again, repeat/complete: no its not James Snead's repetition as "erasure" and its certainly not Derrida's either... more like Saussure if you get my drift): thousands of colors or millions of colors? The screen saver self asks a question, and I guess... like Humpty Dumpty, we flip the broken shells of thoughts into code and verbalize the fragments. Mathematics of the unconscious, algorithmic expressionism, cybernetic improvisation: source break/train of thought has no rails. Consider it De-railed. No roots. The thought gets caught. That's the artist of the floating world scenario. Pick a card, any card... poker faced, the dealer looks back at you and just laughs... s/he's already got your money. The loan has been given, and payment is now due... pick a card any card... you'll never be able to pay it all back. Itís a dealerís game:

the changing same... flex tongue in groove - ILLmatic syntactic... so here we go: permutation machine, flex source code, open architecture of the patterns at the heart of dis-location... that, once again flips, flops, stops:

where here and now open the world in a word, and come back, striated... opened like a beach in storm season: a studio session of the unconscious, watch the tracks march across the mindscreen. Open text, yeah, but the blackness can be like blankness... but that's kind of the point. Anything else, sterile, non-seminal (all connotations put on note: flex again, close the loop. Repeat: stillmatic. There is strength in the invisible.

So the words came in like a roaring river of steel on a six lane highway, the main thing is the way the directions mix and merge. What's it like to move in many directions at the same time.

Like this like that, but the codes kick in and give more structure to the dispersion. Psycho babble of class structure inversion. Top and bottom (yeah, sex dynamix in the word - like chakras - words come from body text, the phono-graph - sound-writing: phonetics of graphology... to that to Norbert Weiner... the text again, come undone. Blackness is like that for me: I say it again: rewind. The text kicked in again. The system is hungry. Striated space calls. The grooves look back from the records and, yeah, its an open source situation. Boredom is just a search engine for constant elevation. Like an elevator in a skyscraper made of words... what floor do you want to get off on? That's what Blackness is like: contemporary invisible erotic empire of words... fractal politics of the unconscious. Stillmatic.... Claude Shannon: signal to noise, yes, but more compact: wildstyle of fiber optics carries the mix, and that's, like Mcluhan said a while ago: cool.

situation: say it out loud: cd:dir>>go/to:phase transition>>OPEN:

so we break it down, the funky 4 plus one more: situationists of the trans-text... check it:

1) move
2) flow
3) words like a river, yeah, I flip 'em like an Indian Giver: I want 'em back, but once they're out, check me at you gotta pay the piper.
4) the blank black - repetition as erasure, and no, no no James Snead... maybe James Brown, its that kind of town.

and of course: the funly four would be nothing without the one more...
5) repeat