You are a cell. A blood cell. A skin cell.
You are a cell. And “The body” is all around you.
It pumps you through its heart in the morning, and spits you out after dusk. Day after day you travel through its veins, as it sucks you deep into the pumping ganglia of its cities and buildings. In and out. In and out. In and out. Consuming you. Exhausting you. Draining you dry.
You are inside its skin, you are inside its mind. You help it live, you feed it and you make it healthy. You give it color and motion. You are the essential element to the existence of this “body”.
But this body has no name, and no purpose. No agenda and no consciousness. It does not love. It does not feel. It does not understand emotion. All it does is grow.
When it does not grow, it rectifies itself and takes all possible cybernetic measures to ensure that it starts to grow again. It cannot stop growing. It will not stop growing.
This body is with you everyday. As you sit on a train with a dull vacant expression. As you stare into a screen blankly, making the pieces fit. As you unconsciously stroll down the aisles of a homogenized, eerily perfect shrine of product worship; filling in your gaps with the excrement of the body. It is there with you, always.
The body is growing. You are shrinking.
You are its brains, its lungs, and its genitals.
Occasionally, the body designs systems that keep the working cells motivated. These appear in the forms of bright, flashing colors and quick, transient spectacles; these systems encourage increased consumption of the body’s produce, and encourage growth of the body itself.
When the cells become unmotivated, these transients increase in frequency, propelling interest and efficiency to consume. There are no limits as to high these frequency levels can reach. It is only dictated by the body, directly proportionate to how much it needs to grow.
You are a cell. You consume transients. You consume spectacles. You keep the body alive.
Each cell has its own particular job in the body. Most cells are highly specialized and can only perform one function. For the body to grow each cell must be monotonized, efficient in its own sector and its own sector alone. The cell must not have personality. The cell must not be independent. The cell must not change.
The body keeps you warm. But it sucks all of the life out of you to keep you warm. You must sacrifice your energy to the body for it to protect you. But to be protected, you must be surrended.
You are a surrended cell. You are devoted to the body. You need the body. The body needs you.
Cells that are inefficient or imperfect are discarded by systems of the body. They are treated like a disease, a cancer, to be quickly removed from both the physical and mental realm of the body. These cells are banished into centres where other banished cells lie. They are already dead.
You are a cell of work and pain when you are in the body. The body however gives you piecemeal freedom to keep you a more sane and serviceable unit.
You are born into a system of service for a body that does not know you and does not thank you.
You are a cell. Have you chosen to be this way?
Or perhaps the more important question is, are you going to do anything about it?
Originally published on Stileproject.com under the ‘Produkt’ moniker, circa 2001.
Stileproject served as the internet’s foremost breeding ground of Everything/Nothing media – shock value, high impact content, and a flourishing underground community of freaks, tweakers, perverts, idiots and geniuses. For nearly 10 years it thrived, being one of the most controversial sites on the internet.
Stile invited me to write for him for a period of a few years. I innocently gave my email adress so that people could send me feedback. I would receive endless torrents of correspondance – pictures of cross dressing Japanese men in cling-wrap, endless dick shots, nuns, weird Mid-Western teenagers dressed like satan spawn, vicious psychopaths cursing me with the wish to develop cancer, desperate lost souls begging for some kind an answer, and at one stage, the frontman of 80’s glam band Dee Snider offering his opinions on gun control. It was a bit of a weird time.
This was an internet pre-memes, pre-YouTube, pre-critical mass. The people that sought this content were the hungry beasts, the leviathans scouring the depths for the depraved and the enlightenment of the eviscerated underbelly. They congregated here. It was the pre-cursor to the modern day reservoir.
These collections serve as ghosts of a site that was once the exotic playground of all things bizarre and inexplicable, but is now something I really don’t recommend anyone go to in the modern era, lest you wish to find a deluge of medium quality porn tube links.