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"I can no longer think what I want to think. My thoughts have been replaced by moving images." We've seen half this country but it's all been air-conditioned, rolling by through tinted glass. Those clouds look so crisp they must be computer generated. That music sounds so good it must be synthed. Ever am I realizing how thickly the byte is in my blood, crawling under my skin and digging like a chigger. If I was a Luddite, I'd have to learn to live without myself. If I was a Luddite, I'd try to destroy myself. Where will people like me fit into the world of Small Is Beautiful? Just another place in my thought-space where the idea goes down more easily than an instantiation. I can talk the talk, yeah I can get excited, but if I'm really honest with myself I'll see that the times when I am truly happy, when the excitement is bubbling and overflowing, these times are few and far between and happen almost exclusively alone with my computer in the middle of the night. I ask myself "What makes me truly happy?", and the half-answer I get are suspect. I can't tell how much is "I can make a convincing argument for why this should make me happy", and how much is "This really makes me happy!" What really makes me happy? I've been working on a computer program to tell us what is beautiful. I think it's time to pull the plug... Aus Songtexte Mania