Words & Image by Miggy Angel
The internet is the greatest art installation we ever built.
Made of light and longing.
The internet is a mass act of clairvoyance, the biggest seance in the universe, and we are all seers and the dearly-departed there.
The internet is a selfie that god is taking.
It’s an infinite sculpture made of blue smoke and our passive-aggression and we’ll only recognise our creation once it steps down from its plinth and puts its hands around our throats and throttles us in the name of love.
The internet is the scatological vapour and mist of consciousness made mercurial replicant of the quotidian and material.
It’s a weapon of mass disjunction.
It’s how they put a barcode on the soul.
It’s McCarthy’s wet dream.
It’s the missing one in black hat with hands behind the back who walks ahead of the hearse which is your life.
It’s a brain on fire.
It’s a boxing ring and you can feel the gloves but not the ropes.
It’s a neon gallows and the hood fits.
It’s an emergency room and all procedures are urgent and psychic and the walls in the theatre are red.
It’s a pageant of heaven and hell held in the little copper pocket-mirror stitched to your breastplate.
Maybe, along with pollution, the internet is the fingerprint we’ll leave at the crime-scene.
The internet is what happened to us when we became as frightened of intimacy as we are desperate to acquire it.
The internet is a love letter we are writing to ourselves, and it says Hello, and it says Do you remember me, and it says I miss you, and it says If you won’t touch me where it hurts anymore won’t you at least acknowledge that I’m alive…
Even the worst internet troll displays the heartbreak of unrequited love if you look hard enough.
On the internet we are all exiled lovers in a death pact, forever bound together in the electric eternity of our yearning.
If you are an artist, then the internet is a heart and spleen-shaped clay-oven that you put your organs inside – where they’ll either melt and become malleable or harden like a stone, and that’s how you find out which kind of person you are.
So, the internet is a personality test.
And, let me tell you… we all failed.
But, there’s still time.
There is still time.
Miggy organises and comperes Nottingham’s monthly poetry event Speech Therapy and facilitates writer’s workshops.
Part 2 of interview series with Miggy, view Part 1 here