Power Floats Like Money, Like Language, Like

There Is Nothing More Mysterious Than A Tv Set Left On In An Empty Room. It Is Even Stranger Than A Man Talking To Himself Or A Woman Standing Dreaming At Her Stove. It Is As If Another Planet Is Communicating With You.

We Live In A World Where There Is More And More Information, And Less And Less Meaning.

Neither Dead Nor Alive, The Hostage Is Suspended By An Incalculable Outcome. It Is Not His Destiny That Awaits For Him, Nor His Own Death, But Anonymous Chance, Which Can Only Seem To Him Something Absolutely Arbitrary. He Is In A State Of Radical Emergency, Of Virtual Extermination.

A Sociosphere Of Contact, Control, Persuasion And Dissuasion, Of Exhibitions Of Inhibitions In Massive Or Homeopathic Doses...: This Is Obscenity. All Structures Turned Inside Out And Exhibited, All Operations Rendered Visible. In America This Goes All The Way From The Bewildering Network Of Aerial Telephone And Electric Wiresto The Concrete Multiplication Of All The Bodily Functions In The Home, The Litany Of Ingredients On The Tiniest Can Of Food, The Exhibition Of Income Or Iq.

It Is A World Completely Rotten With Wealth, Power, Senility, Indifference, Puritanism And Mental Hygiene, Poverty And Waste, Technological Futility And Aimless Violence, And Yet I Cannot Help But Feel It Has About It Something Of The Dawning Of The Universe. Perhaps Because The Entire World Continues To Dream Of New York, Even As New York Dominates And Exploits It.