A Blox Manifesto

Hi everyone! I wrote this creative manifesto to portray my role as an art director. It is theoretical and abstract. Have a read and please share your comments!

My odd discoveries are niched between innovation and the mainstream. For instance, if you have to think with a reason, you will create a chain reaction. You can force it, think it and enable it. It comes from within, like  mass from a tornado picking up speed or fear that the same wind will blow you off a bridge. So, how can we make these constant discoveries without becoming lost? As it always was, I record my thoughts and when I come back, if it does not make sense, then time has passed and now the world needs other things – disconnection from belonging and suddenly, an objective, rational sense. We can’t automate knowledge, no matter what the masses think; we can’t copy, steal or pretend. Because those with ability can argue that it cannot be contained. Try to study da Vinci. You would not be able to reproduce his 19 notebooks that included studies of the human circulatory system and plans for aircrafts and submarines. Our renaissance involves top channels urging the resistance to stop cowering behind boring practices and facades of knowledge or the world will never know the peace of language and the nature of our true digital environment. I will be here to plug it all together, make sense of it all, then present my findings with one goal – to develop a realistic definition and record of digital presence. You will be listening through the air and the speed by which you can travel will be determined by creativity, activity and selflessness. You can make it in seconds. It also takes decades, in fact thousands and thousands of years of time and space. Topics pertaining to analytics, insight and AI. Cures for psychosomatic disease, body dysmorphia, cancer. Working our thinking capabilities. Our capacity to believe. Our ability to organize and refocus thought. Updating medicine. Explaining mental illness. Change in everything, even radio. Our everyday landscape will keep the same weather; we will occupy the same ability to choose, the same emotions and relationships. It can all be achieved, simultaneously. Everyone is doing it. Someone has to write about it. That someone is me.

So literally, stay tuned and for everyone, think!

Start

Hi everyone! This is a story about being smart. What would you do if you could start again?

Day by day, she fought to stay awake. At night, facing the wall, she would see her breath come back, stirring her into place. Her gaze could only see an odd, black shadow.

It was the plague.

Napping feverishly on an ex-boyfriend’s mattress, my breath came to me, rousing my face like a messy mind. There was no odd black shadow, only the installation piece (University of Calgary, Faculty of Art, 2001) I completed about a red cross and red intersecting paint brushes. Over time the red morphed into a black matte surface, replacing the glowing red symbols with something different…

It could have been sound.

It’s taking years.

I gasped for air, clutching my heart as I stared into Kevin’s barren closet only to see me as a ‘doctor’, healing the world from every known pain of mankind. In that moment, my heart sung and I cried. I felt adorned, yet I was confused as to how this could have happened. How could this be a reality that I, Chona Fe, changed the world? Healed it, in fact. How could I be the charging force that put everything into place?

The only other time this happened, I was napping…again…this time at my aunt’s house in one of the empty rooms. (Note: Filipino homes always have empty rooms, they’re probably accommodating ghosts.) All of the 90s furniture, including a stark, reflective black master’s bedroom set had no meaning or design in that place. That place where I slumbered and was suddenly awoken by, myself. I think I was 13, sitting up abruptly on the right side of the bed staring at myself. Yelling. Screaming at the top of my lungs.

Stop!

I wasn’t looking at a reflection of ours.

My brother (Alan Abad) and cousins (Ryan and Vanessa Skinner),  ran home from the playground in the centre of the crescent. They heard me scream. They were horrified to think something terrible had happened. But nothing did. I was alive. I was not attacked or eaten by a monster in the middle of my slumber. Vanessa grabbed my shoulders, shaking vigorously and I blinked slowly thrice. “What. The. I…don’t know what just happened, but I think…I died and saw…a different person…in,” I couldn’t even continue. It was that bad.

Scared?

5 – The Train Ride

I had a semi heart attack when I realized I left my computer at work. Daisy folded her legs out of bed, throwing her white duvet towards her pillows in an act of defiance or something like that. For some reason, she could feel her forehead wrinkle as she quickly discerned, “Oh, just wonderful. I’m angry again.” She walked towards earth, sashaying in a banana yellow-toned gold.

Comma.

She entered. Now, walking criss-crossed down the tree-lined, brick-rung park pathway, she hated this part. She knew they tried to conceal the portal at the ‘end’ of the line, but you could always see it. The air around it was crinkly and wet. It was also technologically Prussian, giving off data to Whom (a.k.a. Google Analytics). They were still around, you know. In any case, she supposed most disconcerted artists would notice it.

Daisy proclaimed with both arms outstretched towards the new entrant, “Hop right in!” She was stretching really. He didn’t notice it. He was a mediocre-sized weasel carrying ‘today’s’ paper and sporting a rather smart trilby hat appropriately coloured rat. Hmm, I wonder if he’s just come in from the races? Daisy adjusted herself, pulling her navy blue rayon skirt down her legs.

Filburt squinted quintessentially. She has to think I’m coming here from the 50s, otherwise this proposition just won’t work. “Ahem!” Daisy stopped daydreaming for one second. She was playing with the ‘quaint daisy design’, imagining days of lorn, when she was just a wee little cartoon. “Yes?” “What is your girth? And are you in a state of dominant Manipura?” 

She didn’t even bother to reply. What a stupid statement. Of course she was. She always was. Especially in Free state. Daisy curtly ruffled her shiny snakeskin BCBG and answered him, “I am now going to roll my eyes and you are going to walk that way. In that direction.” Filburt trembled like a dandelion in new spring wind and promptly – disappeared. Goddamnit! Skirt?! Stomach?! For Christ’s sake!

I don’t have time for this patience. The Need paused. This is not something new. The Pause crossed long, lanky arms and turned his eyeballs in reverse. Training never ended, Daisy hated it. She had been through it a million and ten times. She was even beginning to seem like him. The father of all wrong doing. Addictions created them. Where found them. Elevententeen was their only solace. “Please come, spring”

TBC