Fractal Aspiration and the Information Age

I found myself trapped helplessly in a surreal node of technology-fuelled narcissism not hours ago. (If that sentence hasn't sent you scrambling for the close-tab-button, then I hail you as an ardent fan, an insane person or a poor, sad, suffering friend.) I am, as you may know, a mediocre and massively lacadaisical bloggifier. I am also desperate to become an owner-slash-user-slash-worshipper of a 3G iPhone (the latter piece of beautiful techwork magick being harder to come by on this island than hot hens' teeth cakes).

Prima facie, blog-lust and gadget-greed seem almost unrelated impulses, akin only in that they both concern information technologies. But just now they collided about me in a breath-taking demonstration of fractal resonance and dharmic disdain that caused me to feel, for a moment, utterly oppressed. The active (bloggerly) and passive (consumerist) poles of my technophilic individuum positively copulated in front of me - like junkies in a cinema - when a friend produced an iPhone from his pocket with an infuriating flourish. With a few deft strokes upon its obsidian obverse, he pulled up a full florilegium of my bloggic endeavours, crisp and bright and full of my own ridiculous words - at once inflaming my need to possess this daedal device, and engorging whatever pathetic sub-routine of my vainglory programming it is that compels me to write such things as this.

Just then, in that instant, I felt like a rat in a maze. An incredibly well-dressed rat, in a very dingy, kitchly appointed maze, placed there, manipulated and keenly observed by some demonic, emergent intellect - some preternaturally dexterous tendril, stretching lazily, backwards through time from the dark, asymptotic kernel of the technological singularity in whose vortex of inevitability I spiral and spaghettify into ego-death even as I type.

...

And I really want that Shazam app.