Perfectly Useless

The torment of having a use and yet being useless is bizarre.

I find nothing interesting in what the careerists preach and yet you can’t avoid being sucked into the lifestyle. References this, appearance that, get your CV in order, make sure your resume stands out, etc.


One can see the pain on a careerist’s face when confronted with the realization that their lifestyle is nothing but a void–a sad acceptance of a system that has expired but the practitioners persist in not dying.

I have no use and am proud of that fact.

I spend my time rummaging through trash cans and muttering to myself. Happy that my thoughts are my own and what of it if someone doesn’t like the stink? I may die alone but at least I’ll die in good company!

I am a useless machine


The world needs another app like it needs a hole in the head.

A generative process is a process that defines it’s creator as an asshole.

Meaning can’t be created or destroyed or transferred.

Art is more or less a waste of time.

You don’t have to die to be forgotten.

Abstraction has reached peak iterative process.

Realism is circling the drain of irrelevance.

Leif Rogers is a fool not an artist.

We’d all rather have than have not.

Computing is the ability to waste resources more efficiently.

You’re defined by the language you code in.

Standing in the rain makes more sense than running in the sun.

I spend my waking hours wishing I was asleep.

Everything is a bore including this post.

Bots are more human than most humans.

Sentiment analysis makes something out of nothing.

Art is great as long as someone else is buying.

If an artwork is shut away in a museum’s storage locker does it exist?

A style is an equation.

Equations can emote.

If it was good once it should be good for at least another million times.

You can’t unsee art.

Nature no longer defines us.

Nostalgia is a force of evil.

Art, like computing, is defined by your ability to set access permissions for your users.

In art all functions are private.