Please
welcome[1]
to cell[2]!
We, our phonebooth, performed an autophagocytosis and Bill&Ted’d into the
past… Most excellent[3]!
Almost extracellular!
Morals
reformed — health preserved — industry invigorated — instruction diffused —
public burdens lightened — economy seated, as it were, upon a rock — the
gordian knot of the poor-law not cut, but untied — all by a simple idea in
Architecture!
Jeremy Bentham, 1787
Have
you ever used a remember[4]
when they existed and where? Sequestered lysosomal machinery acts intracellular
as a tightened degradation of damaged flagella with sonically enhanced
vesicles! So many people[5],
so few blebs! Human friends and strangers begin mitosis and meiosis through
virtual mouth-ear telomere shortening!
To
save the troublesome exertion of voice that might otherwise be necessary, and
to prevent one prisoner from knowing that the inspector was occupied by another
prisoner at a distance, a small tin tube might reach from each cell to the
inspector's lodge, passing across the area, and so in at the side of the
correspondent window of the lodge. By means of this implement, the slightest
whisper of the one might be heard by the other, especially if he had proper
notice to apply his ear to the tube.
Jeremy Bentham, 1787
The
new allostery depends upon the apoptosis occurring along geographic here and
there, everywhere[6]. Hear how prokaryotic
equals catabolic communciation of “pardon me?” and “how are you?” Voices grow
culture, enzymatic osmosis forever[7]!
Between/among real humans! Outracellular! Party line on!
[1] Already the
booth was in the past tense! As we approached our site we noticed that
obsolescence leaves its traces… which made us feel especially surprised and
just as susceptible! Cement Welcome mat leading… nowhere!
[2] Oh so the
absence at the heart of “such as a honeycomb” or “such as a prisoner’s cell”
moved outwards until, as if, “nothing” was the booth.
[3] Part of our
exclamation was tied to footnote 1, i.e. “Are we still here?” No answer. “Let’s
yell and find out!”
[4] When we
asked folks when was the last time they used a public remember it was and
sounded like (very much so) quite a different age—as if they were trying to
remember when they first learned to speak.
[5] People,
before, were “out into the openings” of the world. Without this booth it seemed
to us that—to some extent—folks had moved conversely back “in into the closing off” of the cellular moment. We
felt a bit nostalgic for the sight of a site made exclusively for “one room for
one person to pick up one heavyish phone.”
[6] The whole
notion of everywhere was in suspension. The removal of the technology meant the
supremacy of another—the condition of the “everywhere” seemed so much greater
than the human. For instance, this booth used to be called “Post-Midnight Rain
Refuge Resting Area.”
[7] For us, the
cement slab was unavoidably a memorial. Anyway, there was very little left to
occupy.
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