I stumble upon blogs dedicated to the secrets of this 21st century, but their vexing complexity, and lack of correct information, frustrates me. Solution: I fearfully travel into the Deep Web, where I discover a plethora of mp3s on a webpage dedicated to the non-visual language of Masonic sound. I’m led, from there, to webpage after webpage, clicking, clicking and discovering, going somewhere else, another world or ocean or mall connected by hyperlinks; some hyperlinks, just by looking at them, suggest the fragility of a virus one click away. But in this messy ziggurat of grinning Edward Snowden cats, I find an artist, PZA, and an album, called HEAL. Sexy, slick, and abandoned in the virtual plaza, these songs merge the hi-hats of trap and the orientalisms of vapor(wave) to create post-urban sonic qualia, engaging us but not demanding too much, like spy novels. Aka imagine driving a red Subaru into the mouth of a volcano with a sweatsuit on, but still feeling cold.
Non-sequitur, yes, for I cannot write in this chatroom, lest I want a Trojan Horse, neither can I speak in this library, lest I want to be shunned, and if I ever write in this chatroom, forgetting who I am, or speak in this library, make no mistake, it will not be me, but another. For you know what happened to William Cooper: no gallows humor can bring him back, as he laughs in the underworld. Before a giant claw grabs my face now and forevermore from my webcam, I will tell you that I have found out, midway upon my Deep Web journey, that half of the secrets of the 21st century hide away on computers in ultra-encrypted environments known only by a chosen few, while the other half are so out in the open it’s farcical. It’s up to you, my friend, to hack the former and expose the corrupt symbolism of the latter. Artists like PZA can help guide you along the narrow path of this endeavor. Remember to pray to Snowden if you get fearful.
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