spookwalkers

Londres, September 18th, 2007.

The individuals here pass by, as if on automated lateral escaliers

as if they are without immediate destination, but are immediately, and eternally directed toward some intermediate destination.

Nobody going somewhere,

in the sense of a somewhere accessible to me

but all headed nowhere in particular to me.

There is no entry /of institutions visible/ merely continuation to institutions unseen.

The eternal recurrence of the sarariman

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You’re currently reading “spookwalkers,” an entry on nothing in the slightest

ae85 11.25.07 / 1am

Reminds me of NPCs! That’s Non Playable Characters, the guys in games who just walk around carrying stuff or walking with purpose, but never actually going anywhere.

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taylor 11.26.07 / 10pm

deep.

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taylor 11.27.07 / 7pm

are u in cork?

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an army of none 11.28.07 / 1am

Not deep, sha…taylor, quite the opposite: I am superficially viewing these…things…sliding uncontrollably across the iceface. Æfro’s insight is astute, more than he makes out; NPC’s are non-people, scripts of information with no consciousness of their environment or intentions toward changing it; they react mechanistically to the players actions, and the player can easily disregard them and circumvent their effects.

In this scenario it is me who is the unthinking observer who graps nothing of my environment, and thus me who can be disregarded by the players, the spookwalkers. They are the ones with the intentions, marching off into their infinite destinations with perfect clarity, indifferent to the dumb spectator who watches without comprehension.

P.S. Apologies for my silence, emails soon winging their way to you both.

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we are united

by drifting alone

this is the army of none

got no flag

got no home