Old Computer
A poem about the limits of analytical thinking...
I’m an old computer running old software, reliable, but not fast, useful, but not sexy. My architecture is similar to the computers before me and to the computers of today. We all function the same, yet with distinct capacities to store and crunch data and then to display those results in some meaningful way. Many among us are running old code, and several suffer from “bit rot,” that nebulous phenomenon where our data gets scrambled. Others have wiped their drives and installed new operating systems, hoping to compute forever with an algorithm called immortality. Yes I’m an old computer, but also a wet one, made of blood and bone, with the circuitry to love deeply and a primeval appreciation for the non-computational.
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- Jonah · August 2‹ Broken TeethKnock, Knock ›