That, my friends, is a “skin horse.” Or so I’ve been told. (The Ministry of Awe, photo by me)
So, it’s been off and on for The Intertwixt lately. Mostly, it’s been weekend travel and work. But also, let’s face it, the world is batshit. And for any day that I feel ok, suddenly there’s a day where I don’t.
I think this is a natural state of the current moment. The snapshot of 2026 is acceleration and madness. With doses of connection and comfort, maybe, somehow.
I took a week off to look at engineering colleges for my oldest kid. It was fascinating, and oddly comforting. College tours are a form of immersive theater. And, Passover having been celebrated, I’m home again.
If I were to point to recent work of mine, I’d show you my piece about Apple over the next 50 years. An impossible proposition, of course. And, in 2076, I’ll likely be dead. Or, a cyborg. Or maybe both.
I had a lot of fun talking to a futurist I met at SXSW who does improv, Annie Hardy, about what could be coming. Or, rather, possibilities to consider. The future is a multiversal fabric. I based a lot of my thoughts on things I see sprouting from tech I’m already using. Forgive me for familiar patterns.
Of course, the future can be unexpected, too. Consider this year. Would we ever have imagined it like this in our worst fever dreams fifteen years ago?
Me interacting with Spatial Pixel’s instruments in the Heavens exhibit upstairs at Ministry of Awe, which features a massive projected mural by Meg Saligman.
I take refuge in pieces of art, and immersive stuff. The Ministry of Awe, a beautiful and weird bank building turned surrealist fantasy, is a local art space in Philadelphia I got to visit a few weeks ago. I loved being there. I loved talking to Meg Saligman, who built the space with over a hundred artists, and the spatial computing AI duo Spatial Pixel, who envisioned interactive magic that lurks inside. Read my story on it, and watch the video. Or go visit, if you’re close. It’s worth the explore.
I thought about this type of art even more in another story about my visit to SXSW, a trip I’m still thinking about. Echoes, echoes, echoes.
I’m reading Mason & Dixon right now, Thomas Pynchon’s 1997 book, which I kept meaning to read for the last 30 years. Now that it’s America’s 250th birthday, I thought I’d ring it in by shattering it all to pieces with postmodernism. I’m letting the strange language wash over me. I’m ready to be transported and melted. I need to get outside my head.
I’m also reading For The Ride, Alice Notley’s book-length poem about…souls turned into poems? An AI that houses humanity in the apocalypse? Words jagged and loose and hard to grab. I am swimming in strange.
I finished reading a wonderful book about Dadaism, The Posthuman Dada Guide: Tzara and Lenin Play Chess, by Andrei Codrescu, precipitated by a Dada obsession that began a few months ago. I need more. I need counterprogramming. I need to shake myself up. I need to follow strange dreams and whispers. I need to dive into more fringe tech and see its seams. I’m listening to Angine de Poitrine, thanks to Annie Hardy’s recommendation.
My advice to you: lose yourself in the unusual. Discover the edges. Hold onto your loved ones. See people. Hug them. Explore and also find your way home.
My next goal is to launch a local playlab in my town, a place for transmitting ideas and communally making whimsy. Spring is here, and it’s time. I have some ideas in my head that are immersive and interactive, improvisational, and they need to be thrown like spaghetti with some people as soon as possible.
Want to join me in the playlabbing? Give me a ping. Let’s laugh and scream together. Forward progress.