T H E N E R V E P O O L
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NEW COLLABORATION WITH NPR'S ANDREI CODRESCU:
www.NERVEPOOL.NET/index-events
Dear BIONIC CULTURE workers, otaku brigades, infrastructure squirters, hyper-meows and pundits:
WIGGLISM, if you haven't been introduced yet, is a homebrew, super-fuzzy, interactive, open source, self-constructing media organism. That is, with your consent.
Born in 1996 during the nubile ecstasy of the early world wide web, it is still quite alive and about to be incubated for a spell in MIT's Leonardo Magazine (Live Art & Science Section, MIT Press, late 2006). An article in which I attempt to summarize the creature's first 10 years of life has been peer-reviewed into submission and shall soon be pinned down, at least temporarily, like a squid on a slab.
Hence, BEFORE I send in the final draft of commentary, here's a chance to take a crack at the latest version of THE WIGGLISM MANIFESTO. Please send me your suggestions, re-writes, bashes, sauces, insights...
Wigglism seems to have arrived (at this juncture) at promoting the idea of Truth/Beauty/Meaning as a non-objective lifeform cultivated interactively with the world. That's NOT relativism, per se, but a form of subjective ecology which flips passive BEING on its head and stresses ACTIVE nurturing of living cultural phenomena/presence. But you may wish to nudge the thing in a different direction. Whatever moves you.
I sincerely appreciate your help in nurturing this media entity and its kin:
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THE WIGGLISM MANIFESTO
Loop into strange coilings, this coiling. Well up in the fibrillations of this hysterical continuum, this bionic boiling. Rise up and nurture the wiggling – of sinew or circuit, riot or union, mud or imagination. Nurture with the loaded logic of the living, with endless reflection and a moving center.
Ovulate your tender eggs, your shivering codes, into the blood of interconnection. Soak tendrils of thought and gesture in an ethical jelly of feedback. Infuse phantoms and facts with equal measures of visceral significance. Creep along the rivulets and curls of writhing truth, this outrageous fetus squinting in a boundless womb of cultivations.
Breed turbulent creatures in a mongrel jungle of plasma, machines and minds. Embrace these creatures, these hives, these worlds. Keep that which is lively, and that which sustains life, in succulent focus. May the stagnant metaphors of god, science and art evaporate in our feral heat.
At this twist in the orgy of evolution we are drunk with life, with that which seems alive, with lunges and startled presences. We fuse with the creatures of our devotion, becoming everything we encounter, becoming devotion itself. We transmute mind and matter into a zoology of spirit.
Dare to suckle this wild vapor, this infant gleaming. Convulse and clutch in waves of milky wonder. Siphon every atom, and theory of atom, into the folds of our collective screen, our flesh. Melt into the monstrous, grooving spasm of the infinite Wiggling.
Nurture the Wiggling, for that which wiggles is amazing.
–Ebon Fisher, 1996-2006
Wigglism forms itself around your input: [email protected]
