/mde/ - MILLION DOLLAR EXTREME

>>478
i heard this was the 1990's "cyberfeminist art" board on 8chan

A long wintered night in the Contested Zone.

Her biological membrane shivered as she multiplied through a possee of Virtual Activists, protesting the latest scam by some Euro Data Deviants.

She was late.
She was always late.

If she survived to be a Cortex Crone she'd still have trouble shifting from dormant to active modes.

She sensed some quivering data nearby and scanned a tribe of DNA sluts, her sisters in slime. A rapid alpha exchange and she was back on the look out for Circuit Boy, a fetishized replicant of the perfect HuMan HeMan, a dangerous technobimbo.

She self-replicated towards the banks of the Heavy Medal Boys - the Mbs. Minders of her arch enemy, Big Daddy Mainframe.

Her aim: to corrupt Big Daddy's data.
His mainframe.
His Hard On.

Oh, suck me off.

Get rendered.
Get real.
Get fucked.

http://web.archive.org/web/20041014030835/http://www.sysx.org/gashgirl/arc/czone.html

http://dollyoko.thing.net/

are you stupid or are u cyberfeminist

http://web.archive.org/web/20131111062739/http://www.sysx.org/gashgirl/arc/freak.html

very meaningful

The cyborg is a creature in a post-gender world; it has no truck with bisexuality, pre-oedipal symbiosis, unalienated labour, or other seductions to organic wholeness through a final appropriation of all the powers of the parts into a higher unity. In a sense, the cyborg has no origin story in the Western sense — a 'final' irony since the cyborg is also the awful apocalyptic telos of the 'West's' escalating dominations of abstract individuation, an ultimate self untied at last from all dependency, a man in space. An origin story in the 'Western', humanist sense depends on the myth of original unity, fullness, bliss and terror, represented by the phallic mother from whom all humans must separate, the task of individual development and of history, the twin potent myths inscribed most powerfully for us in psychoanalysis and Marxism. Hilary Klein has argued that both Marxism and psychoanalysis, in their concepts of labour and of individuation and gender formation, depend on the plot of original unity out of which difference must be produced and enlisted in a drama of escalating domination of woman/nature. The cyborg skips the step of original unity, of identification with nature in the Western sense. This is its illegitimate promise that might lead to subversion of its teleology as star wars.

Earlier I suggested that 'women of colour' might be understood as a cyborg idendty, a potent subjecdvity synthesized from fusions of outsider identities and in the complex political-historical layerings of her 'biomythography', Zami (Lorde, 1982; King, 1987a, 1987b). There are material and cultural grids mapping this potential, Audre Lorde (1984) captures the tone in the title of her Sister Outsider. In my political myth, Sister Outsider is the offshore woman, whom US workers, female and feminized, are supposed to regard as the enemy prevendug their solidarity, threatening their security. Onshore, inside the boundary of the United States, Sister Outsider is a potential amidst the races and ethnic identities of women manipulated for division, competition, and exploitation in the same industries. 'Women of colour' are the preferred labour force for the science-based industries, the real women for whom the world-wide sexual market, labour market, and politics of reproduction kaleidoscope into daily life. Young Korean women hired in the sex industry and in electronics assembly are recruited from high schools, educated for the integrated circuit. Literacy, especially in English, distinguishes the 'cheap' female labour so attractive to the multinationals.

From one perspective, a cyborg world is about the final imposition of a grid of control on the planet, about the final abstraction embodied in a Star Wars apocalypse waged in the name of defence, about the final appropriation of women's bodies in a masculinist orgy of war (Sofia, 1984). From another perspective, a cyborg world might be about lived social and bodily realities in which people are not afraid of their joint kinship with animals and machines, not afraid of permanently partial identities and contradictory standpoints. The political struggle is to see from both perspectives at once because each reveals both dominations and possibilities unimaginable from the other vantage point. Single vision produces worse illusions than double vision or many-headed monsters. Cyborg unities are monstrous and illegitimate; in our present political circumstances, we could hardly hope for more potent myths for resistance and recoupling. I like to imagine LAG, the Livermore Action Group, as a kind of cyborg society, dedicated to realistically converting the laboratories that most fiercely embody and spew out the tools

http://www.egs.edu/faculty/donna-haraway/articles/donna-haraway-a-cyborg-manifesto/

u better get used to it bud

http://www.sterneck.net/cyber/plant-land-cyber/index.php

wow

Dia (Child and computer)

This is primarily the person that I'm interested in, because this is
my daughter. The light of the computer screen shines on her face, her
face becomes suffused with its electronic glow, and it looks as though
her face is beginning to glow on its own. We can see her beginning to
take on that kind of generous permeability that characterizes all of
us at the close of the mechanical age, the same kind of permeability
that her machine has – we see that the space between them is
beginning to collapse, and they're beginning to implode quite suddenly
into each other. I'm worried about her, because these spaces of
interaction that I've shown you suggest certain things about where
we're headed. They suggest that what happens inside these virtual
communities is a performance. It's a performance the same way that
subject position is a performance. Except that we don't ordinarily see
it that way – in the way that subject position is a performance, in
the way that gender is a also performance, and the theatre for that
performance is the body. And not just a body or some body, but very
specific bodies like this one, and [she points at individual women in
the audience] like yours, and like yours, in which these things are
played out. And in those bodies, this wonderful and completely
unstructured social interaction doesn't take place. Our bodies are
embedded in a structure of power, in which the controlling thing is
pain. There's pleasure, too, but the controlling factor in a situation
of imbalanced power is the use of pain and restriction as a means of
control. Going back and forth between these images, between the
virtual communities and this world, between these communities, in
which pleasure and pain mean different things, and this community, in
which pain means something quite specific, in which power structures
act to constrain us within specific controllable identities, is a
problem – a problem that we have yet to work out. Before we step over
the threshold into these virtual worlds we need to understand how
those structures work here in the physical world. Before we are free
in these wonderful networks we need to pay attention to what's
happening here: with the way that pain operates in our individual
selves, with the way that power structures hold us physically in
particular places, and not just physically, psychologically, socially
as well. Power is most powerful when it's invisible, and in the new
social spaces of communication technology power is as yet quite
invisible.

Dia ("New Research Proves There Are No Answers")

So at this moment all I can say about where we go from here is that
new research proves there are no answers. I've made a series of
provocations in which I've suggested some things, but I don't have any
solutions. I've heard people grappling at this conference for
solutions, and I know that there'll be a lot more grappling for
solutions. And I think that that's the common thing that brings us
together – ways to try to solve the immediate problems that we have
of dealing with gender and power structures at the close of the
mechanical age, when the tools that we use for art are going to have
new and different modes of use and new and different arenas of
experience in which they can be played out. They provide us new
possibilities, but they don't take away the difficulties of the old
ones. And we have to negotiate the transition to the virtual world
very carefully. I don't know how it will work out, but I expect that
as it develops I will meet you all in the networks as you sign on and
sign off. Perhaps we'll recognize each other, and perhaps not. But
whatever body you choose, and whatever subject position you have
managed to occupy, we will meet again in that space. So I'll see you
in cyberspace. Work there, play there, love there, but if you have
sex there, be sure to use a modem. Thank you very much.

.
http://gender.eserver.org/what-vampires-know.txt

http://cyber.eserver.org/mondo.txt

Linda Dement
Cyberflesh Girlmonster 1995
Cyberflesh Girlmonster

At the Adelaide Festival, about 30 women donated body parts by scanning their chosen flesh and digitally recording sound. From these, conglomerate bodies were created, animated and made interactive.

art
http://www.lindadement.com/cyberflesh-girlmonster.htm

Bitch Mutant Manifesto


The atomic wind catches your wings and you are propelled backwards into
the future, an entity time travelling through the late C20th, a space
case, an alien angel maybe, looking down the deep throat of a million
catastrophes.

screenflash of a millionmillion conscious machines

burns brilliant

users caught in the static blitz of carrier fire

unseeing the download that scribbles on their burntout retinas

seize in postreal epileptic bliss

eat code and die

Sucked in, down through a vortex of banality. You have just missed the
twentieth century. You are on the brink of the millenium - which one -
what does it matter? It's the cross dissolve that's captivating. The hot
contagion of millenia fever fuses retro with futro, catapulting bodies
with organs into technotopia . . . where code dictates pleasure and
satisfies desire.

Pretty pretty applets adorn my throat. I am strings of binary.
I am pure artifice. Read only my memories. Upload me into your
pornographic imagination. Write me.

Identity explodes in multiple morphings and infiltrates the system at
root.

Unnameable parts of no whole short circuit the code recognition programs
flipping surveillance agents into hyperdrive which spew out millions of
bits of corrupt data as they seize in fits of schizophrenic panic and trip
on terror.

So what's the new millenium got to offer the dirty modemless masses?
Ubiquitous fresh water? Simulation has its limits. Are the artists of
oppressed nations on a parallel agenda? Perhaps it is just natural
selection?

The net's the parthenogenetic bitch-mutant feral child of big daddy
mainframe. She's out of of control, kevin, she's the sociopathic emergent
system. Lock up your children, gaffer tape the cunt's mouth and shove a
rat up her arse.

We're <<con>>verging on the insane and the vandals are swarming. Extend my
phenotype, baby, give me some of that hot black javamagic you're always
bragging about. (I straddle my modem). The extropians were wrong, there's
some things you can't transcend.

The pleasure's in the dematerialisation. The devolution of desire.

We are the malignant accident which fell into your system while you were
sleeping. And when you wake we will terminate your digital delusions,
hijacking your impeccable software.

Your fingers probe my neural network.The tingling sensation in the tips
of your fingers are my synapses responding to your touch. It's not
chemistry, it's electric. Stop fingering me.

Don't ever stop fingering my suppurating holes, extending my bounday
but in cipherspace there are no bounds <or so they say>
BUT IN SPIRALSPACE THERE IS NO THEY
there is only *us*
Trying to flee the binary I enter the chromozone which is not one
XXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXXYXX
genderfuck me baby
resistance is futile

entice me splice me map my ABANDONED genome as your project
artificially involve me
i wanna live forever
upload me in yr shiny shiny PVC future

SUCK MY CODE

Subject X says transcendence lies at the limit of worlds, where now and
now, here and elsewhere, text and membrane impact.

Where truth evaporates Where nothing is certain There are no maps

The limit is NO CARRIER, the sudden shock of no contact, reaching out to
touch <someone> but the skin is cold…

The limit is permission denied, vision doubled, and flesh necrotic.

Command line error

Heavy eyelids fold over my pupils, like curtains of lead. Hot ice kisses
my synapses with an (ec)static rush. My system is nervous, neurons
screaming - spiralling towards the singularity. Floating in ether, my body
implodes.

I become the FIRE.

Flame me if you dare.

http://dollyoko.thing.net/title.htm


I would like to end my argument with Australian artist Francesca da Rimini's web work "Dollspace" (1997) which explores female desire under the conditions of virtuality. It is a complex web environment with various sites, hypertext fictions set in pictorial backgrounds and links to politically engaged sites. Gashgirl, or Doll Yoko, the female fictive figuration is constructed above all by texts (summaries of Lambda MOOs, etc.) which reflect her history and her (sexual) desire. Doll Yoko has risen from a muddy pond in Japan where women used to drown their unwanted, female children. She is a ghost, as in "all women are ghosts and should rightly be feared," and has among other things monstrous desires for young boys ("riverboys"). As doll/gashgirl/ghost, she is not a natural born woman, but rather, a posthuman copy/"essence" evolving from the dark abysses of patriarchal society. Though she is a doll, she is not smooth and homogeneous like Barbie; she is gashed, killed, violated, full of fantasies of power and losing control, of cum, of fucking and killing, of getting fucked and killed herself. Doll Yoko, who is at the same time dead and alive, who wants to destroy and to be destroyed herself, is a deeply paradoxical figure, situated in an in-between space called "deep doll space zero" – a space behind the closed eye through which the visitors have to enter in the beginning.

So far, this symbolic space has not been investigated and represented much by female cultural workers, whether because of its deep political incorrectness or for other reasons. Doll Yoko's/the narrator's/the author's (the sentences are often articulated with "I") wild feelings and emotions, circulating between activity and passivity, focus on the topic of losing boundaries in digital space: of sex, gender, subjectivity, agency, of the writer and the reader, of the figuration and the user. Who is this "I" in the end who says: "genderfuckmebaby"? This "I" is totally splitting into various agents and we, the readers, participate in this dissolution. What does this sentence and all the other sentences in this piece imply? They talk of experiences, of enjoying loss and the violation of boundaries, and they have a kind of jouissance which goes beyond the mere textual "death of the author" we know from male theorists like Roland Barthes. These sentences and their images become stubborn figurations of many voices and embodiments of Doll Yoko. The kind of jouissance which is proposed here completely deconstructs gender dichotomies and stereotypes. It is far beyond any relief; it is "haunting" and allows us to fall into the depths of psychic streams and desires in virtual and real worlds.


KUNST

internet is future is now