a cyberpunk story.

Tengo ganas de escribir un cuentito Cyberpunk. Algo así como un there's no future y soy infeliz al respecto, entonces reconecto todo mi cablerío para hacerme creer que esta todo bien, pero esta todo mal, y encima soy esclavo de mis cables del orto pero bueeno. algo mas triste que el punk: el cyberpunk.

Nietzsche se suicidaría. Nietzche dice: There's no future. Qué suerte! Vivamos a full el presente, cada centigrado de mis sensaciones, cada parcela de mi potencialidad pura. Conectarse con uno mismo al 100%, vivirse con todo lo que eso conlleva. Lo unico que tenemos es vacio. Esa es la realidad. Sepan usarla, es pura potencialidad, transmutación en lo que se quiera.

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BUeh. Vamos entonces con el cuentito cyberpunk. o lo que nietzsche llamaría el Nihilista Decadente.


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Energy and Mana, come packaged in little bottles of red and blue liquid now. Global Photoshop Effect over a mechanical body submitted to (an) it-self.

Rewire me, exhale me. Make me be what I want whenever i want it. I can't let my circuitries without an order. Orders are THINGS. THINGS suffocate VOID. VOID is BAD. VOID's not Death. It's something worse. So Orders are the ones that keep the orchestra playing... it really doesn't matter what.

Orders come from the outside... The insides respond, happily enslaved. They know they'll have their retribution.

Black or White. It's all about taking it all over the limit. Cyberdosis of what i want to feel RIGHT fuckin'now. Don't you ever ask me to let go, let me go, le I go. Let me. Go.
There's a supermarket where my mechanical circuitries attend to buy feelings. It's all a great circus because, in fact, what you are really buying are little thingies that stimulate feelings that are located inside me. Isn't that fun? Whatever... my M.O loves to go shopping/choking.