anon_j_anon (anon_j_anon) wrote,

Panopticon, 80-

Title: Panopticon
Author: jAnon
Disclaimer: This is mine.
Wordcount: 10 by 100



All of my works are interrelated.  For those who have been reading from the beginning, I wonder if I’ve given away the key to the encryption.

This is the pointillism, the mosaic.  Facets put together to create the(?) an(?) image.

Back in 63, I said I’d tell you a story about anger, betrayal, where no one and everyone is to blame.  I said it’d rip you apart.  “A story about power and violence.  A story that reflects an image back.”

It seems all my stories are like that, even if it is all fanfiction right now.  I can’t help it.


The truth is that I have mixed feelings about “going pro” or whatever.  Publishing is determined by the market.  Few people read.  Most people watch.  Visual culture saturates us.  The thousands of eyes, anonymous, is where the money, and therefore the power, is.

What changes a person’s life?  What is resonant?  What is original?

I think of Ecclesiastes often, and Solomon’s despair.  The circles and cycling, the reflection of our existence.  As a creator, we want to make something eternal, that speaks to humankind.  But freedom means the choice to read and consume.

Creation.  In the beginning was the Word.


What does a person’s education consist of today?  A canonical stack of books and subjects that must be read and learned?  A set of experiences designed to make them world citizens?

Everywhere, systems surround, but these systems are always in flux.  What is in today is out tomorrow—this is how it’s always been.  But has it always been at this terrifying speed?

Between the multiplicity of choices and bog of images words sounds to be eaten, what stays with us?  What is worth returning to?  Is there set of knowledge that makes us human?

What does that even mean?


“Baby now that we’re alone got a request
Would you make me number one on your playlist” –Lady Gaga

She creates an entire world for her fans.  She wants them to feel safe being whoever they are.  A glamorous Lady Liberty.

“Keep, ancient hags, your storied pop!” cries she
With red wine lips.  “Give me your ugly, your diseased,
Your monster masses yearning to breathe free,
The damned refuse of your white-washed shore.
Send these, the homeless, the fashion freaks to me,
I lift my song beside the burlesque door!”

And they flock, moths to her alluring world of vanity.


I’m a different person than who I was when I wrote 0.

You’re a different person than who you were when you read 0.

Perhaps I am not searching for the meaning of normal at all.  Because everyone feels marginalized in some way, everyone has some aspect they feel they must hide, for fear that it is inconsistent with the character that provides deniability.

Perhaps I am searching for the common denominator, the pieces of my life and experience that resonate with you.

Panopticon left me an island of one.

Yet in deconstruction is creation, in creation is a reflection.


Still speaking in metaphors.  It’s a habit I’m not sure I’ll ever break.

Perhaps I was born for this.

Because, do people really want to read the truth?  Do people really want to see these reflections?  There is an entire industry, subculture, dedicated to escape.

Speaking in metaphors lets me write my truth and hide it not only from censors, but from the reader too.  All the elements are there.  It’s their choice, always.

But I want to be disturbing.

Compelling, subversive.

I want people to see and think, “good story” or “cool characters,” and feel uneasy.  Like an itch.


Who validates?

Who determines when you’ve made it?

Eyes?  Time?  Elite?

Creator and critic, demos and duma.

Why do you consume?  To pass the time?  Because it’s there?

Is this all there is?  The day to day of keeping away ennui?

Sometimes I wonder if ultimately, Panopticon—the all seeing all knowing silent and restricting—will win simply by giving us everything we want.  Inundating us with choice, free markets in the form of ketchup brands and 200 channels of cable television.  Keeping our eyes occupied so that we don’t care which eyes are watching.

Watch the watcher watching, inverted.


My teacher asked us, if we could keep one right from the US Constitution, which would we choose?

Everyone chose

1: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

The West tends to immediately associate freedom with the freedom of expression.

There were also people who thought it was okay to give up your rights and freedom, as long as it was contractual.



My teacher asked a colleague from the former Soviet, if they could keep one right from the US Constitution, which would they choose?

6: “In all criminal prosecutions, the accused shall enjoy the right to a speedy and public trial, by an impartial jury of the State and district where in the crime shall have been committed, which district shall have been previously ascertained by law, and to be informed of the nature and cause of the accusation; to be confronted with the witnesses against him; to have compulsory process for obtaining witnesses in his favor, and to have the Assistance of Counsel for his defense.”


A different mindset.

Panopticon leaves a different mindset.

As eyes become more insidious and we become more oblivious, what is left?

Don’t mistake me.  Things have improved.  We actually count civilian casualties now.  Human rights have vastly improved—sixty years ago, segregation was still an institution.  There are failures and shortcomings in so many ways, but there has been progress.

I look at the amazing centralized fifteen cameras on every corner infamous firewall thoroughly capitalist completely nationalist buying up the means of production building our computers truly brilliant terrifyingly perfect Panopticon and wonder.

What does the future hold for us?

Tags: writing

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