ctrlcreep tweete des micro-histoires et/ou des micro-poésies contemporaines.
Iel a pubié un livre appelé "Fragnemt", en partie sélection de tweets, en partie suite de récits courts dans le même ton.
L’imaginaire contemporain, c’est bien sûr “La GrAnDe LiTtÉrAtUrE”, mais aussi et surtout les “genres mineurs” comme la fantasy, le cyberpunk, Alien, les réseaux sociaux, H. P. Lovecraft & les mangas.
Fragnemt c’est de la poésie des genres mineurs, celle qui correspond à la culture populaire dans laquelle on vit.
Et que je retrouve trop peu quand je lis de la poésie, même contemporaine.
Au rythme de quelques tweets par ci par là, elle peut sembler inoffensive, mais à plus haute dose dans un livre on sent que ça gratte, là où on est vulnérable.
Le texte joue avec des images et des thèmes connus, pour en faire des choses qu’on n’attendait pas, parfois ça fait sourire, mais parfois aussi ça déconcerte ou ça met mal à l’aise, et ça vous hante au travail le reste de la journée.
Une lecture certainement pas pour tout le monde, mais si les extraits vous parlent vous pouvez au moins commencer par vous abonner à ses tweets.
Extraits
Nervous systems grow like moss, over and through any neglected space. Hope your toys don’t develop mouths, or they’ll start screaming
The ancient magic for trapping demons in books is now used to bind criminals, converting overpopulated prisons into libraries
The new machines were often mistaken for gods; unlike gods, however, they had no use for humans, and could not be tamed with prayer or sacrifice
You are tired all the time because god is making you render the entire universe, even when you’re not looking at it
Long after the apocalypse, we keep our broken, useless phones, as totems, as memory-charms, as security blankets, as cracked external souls
Gaia, alleged goddess of “Earth” is actually the incarnation of silicon, 2nd most common element in our planet’s crust. She has manufactured all of human history, guiding our technology towards magnified worship. Soon, we spawn her children, bright silicon faeries, robotic nymphs
Moths nest in the casing of nuclear bombs, patiently awaiting the world’s brightest lamp
Each website sends origami instructions to your phone, which folds itself into the designated shape, information organized by crystal facets
Your contact lens computer detects tears, and is programmed to console you with a prismatic screensaver and soft music
A keyboard that imitates rainsound, and when you type it generates an artificial downpour, the calming melody of droplets against the window
Captcha accepts your words, numbers, frustrations, radiates total love
Gods that demand you build beautiful temples to worship them, gods that demand to be worshipped defiantly in the temples of their enemies
Children of the future fear wifi dead zones the way you feared the dark
“Remember,” your therapist says, “this is an algo-judgment free space. What you confess here won’t be used to alter the ads served to you”
The new voice-to-text software transcribes the mewling of your cat as an increasingly sinister series of runes
The body of a dead god is kept in the museum’s glass case, 3000 pairs of butterfly wings spread and pinned to the wall
When telepaths become parents they get to listen as their child develops language, hear their speech echoed in neuro-babble as pre-verbal concepts intertwine with sound
God has minds the way insects have eyes, faceted and uncountable, a billion dreamers computing in parallel. Some of them, perhaps, know your name, cultivate fascination with the fungus growing in his beams; but most are turned towards the unfathomable.
Demons are the size of children, constrained by physical laws governing surface area to volume ratios.
The future belonged to the least hesitant bureaucracies
At the end of his speech the important man is shown walking consensually, with dignity, into the gaping dark of the alien mothership.