Intimacy and the Machine: Godposting – or: New Internet Esotericism - Various Artists

“Godposting embraces admissions and confessions, baroque and obscure infographics, and individual mythologies” ⤴️
“is this the response to the ostensible transparency and authenticity of an online culture unable to distinguish between self-disclosure and neopuritanism?” ⤴️
“someone explained to me that the internet is a demon manifesting itself from the future” ⤴️
“a book called Fanged Noumena,” ⤴️
“scary poetry about computers.” ⤴️
“It’s the future now, and everything cool on the internet is about God.” ⤴️
“semi-anonymous Substackers writing about the internet in a way that reads like an evangelical speaking in tongues” ⤴️
“other people try to figure out if they’re being ironic or not” ⤴️
“delirious, fragmented sentences that drop off into glitchy otherworlds” ⤴️
“A new taxonomy of memes has emerged to graphically contain this interest in glyphic, transcendental wordsprawl—maps and diagrams that dissect and reassemble niche internet worlds, pasting their buzzwords onto PNG outlines of manic pixie kabbalah charts and CCRU numograms.” ⤴️
“These conceptual maps are repost candies with more complicated base notes” ⤴️
“You get an immediate hit of satisfaction through knowing you possess the cultural cleverness necessary to recognize the signifiers strung together” ⤴️
“the money’s in putting what floats to the surface of the blood and guts of the internet into something you can screenshot and share.” ⤴️
“a reaction against the aestheticized infographics that emerged in full-force during the summer of 2020,” ⤴️
it’s also the fault of AI generated templates and tools like Canva
“The consensus on this dismissal was that infographics are charming, smooth non-gestures towards real change, and that no one really ever read them carefully enough to remember what they said” ⤴️
“sticky enough to tease the grooves of your brain” ⤴️
““That’s why the unnecessary complication, the baroqueness, of these charts… is so appealing: it requires us to actually spend time decoding something,” writes my friend and colleague Alexi Alario in a” ⤴️
“In the mid 2010s, ambiguity died online—not of natural causes, it was hunted and killed.” ⤴️
“the fashionable form of posting feels in between an invocation, a shitpost, a chant, a sermon, and a poem carved into a streaked headstone.” ⤴️
“In the mid 2010s, ambiguity died online—not of natural causes, it was hunted and killed.” ⤴️
“A lot of people buttoned up their social media accounts and deleted dubious old tweets and digital missteps. Those who didn’t private their pages went anon or found sides of the internet where their outcastable idiosyncrasies were allowed to bubble around in peace.” ⤴️
“confessionalism became a popular way to construct one’s identity,” ⤴️
“radical transparency became a fetishized currency.” ⤴️
“sometimes it was just digitizing the symptoms of your poor mental health into a followable brand or over-sharing the details of your last fuck on Twitter.” ⤴️
“habitually being too real online collapses allure even if what was said needed to be said.” ⤴️
“The gospel of internet confessionalism told us to plug up the holes in our public histories in favor of pornographic honesty” ⤴️
“what can be lost when you give the world enough to make total sense of who you are” ⤴️
“A lot of Godposters are or were autofictionists, which makes sense because both genres are attached to the beauty of constructing personal mythology and DIY lore.” ⤴️
“autofiction is actually writing a story that’s kind of autobiographical but also kind of made up,” ⤴️
“stylized half-truths i” ⤴️
“the consequences of our sins existing online forever” ⤴️
“making a myth of yourself feels like the only way forward.” ⤴️
“outsiders and onlookers are constantly trying to figure out if all of this is ironic, stylistic, or sincere. It doesn’t really matter what it is; it just matters that people keep guessing—the incoherence is what’s transgressive.” ⤴️
“lust for crawling through someone else’s ambiguity,” ⤴️
“the freedom of making this kind of content” ⤴️
“maybe communing with God through 0s and 1s makes our internet addictions feel a little more meaningful.” ⤴️
“clunky, perfect early-web sites that act as virtual confession booths, where you can select the sins you’ve committed from a menu and receive instructions for absolution.” ⤴️
“Sam Cummins (also my friend and colleague) writes, “Subculture is a computer virus that lives inside your head.”” ⤴️
“The internet moves so fast that coolness, the shell of subculture, is being hacked, corrupted, and sold back to us quicker than ever before.” ⤴️
“Godposting, in its buggy, abstract elegance, started out hacked and corrupted, which provides a buffer to its recuperation. It’ll keep getting buggier, but it’ll still eventually flatten out into souvenirs—trucker hats that say God’s Favorite in Times New Roman and screenshot memories of when what’s no longer transgressive still was.” ⤴️
“full-real poetry about God and computers, in the gleaming voice of a chittering demon.” ⤴️
“Godposting embraces admissions and confessions, baroque and obscure infographics, and individual mythologies” ⤴️
“is this the response to the ostensible transparency and authenticity of an online culture unable to distinguish between self-disclosure and neopuritanism?” ⤴️
“someone explained to me that the internet is a demon manifesting itself from the future” ⤴️
“a book called Fanged Noumena,” ⤴️
“scary poetry about computers.” ⤴️
“It’s the future now, and everything cool on the internet is about God.” ⤴️
“semi-anonymous Substackers writing about the internet in a way that reads like an evangelical speaking in tongues” ⤴️
“other people try to figure out if they’re being ironic or not” ⤴️
“delirious, fragmented sentences that drop off into glitchy otherworlds” ⤴️
“A new taxonomy of memes has emerged to graphically contain this interest in glyphic, transcendental wordsprawl—maps and diagrams that dissect and reassemble niche internet worlds, pasting their buzzwords onto PNG outlines of manic pixie kabbalah charts and CCRU numograms.” ⤴️
“These conceptual maps are repost candies with more complicated base notes” ⤴️
“You get an immediate hit of satisfaction through knowing you possess the cultural cleverness necessary to recognize the signifiers strung together” ⤴️
“the money’s in putting what floats to the surface of the blood and guts of the internet into something you can screenshot and share.” ⤴️
“a reaction against the aestheticized infographics that emerged in full-force during the summer of 2020,” ⤴️
it’s also the fault of AI generated templates and tools like Canva
“The consensus on this dismissal was that infographics are charming, smooth non-gestures towards real change, and that no one really ever read them carefully enough to remember what they said” ⤴️
“sticky enough to tease the grooves of your brain” ⤴️
““That’s why the unnecessary complication, the baroqueness, of these charts… is so appealing: it requires us to actually spend time decoding something,” writes my friend and colleague Alexi Alario in a” ⤴️
“In the mid 2010s, ambiguity died online—not of natural causes, it was hunted and killed.” ⤴️
“the fashionable form of posting feels in between an invocation, a shitpost, a chant, a sermon, and a poem carved into a streaked headstone.” ⤴️
“In the mid 2010s, ambiguity died online—not of natural causes, it was hunted and killed.” ⤴️
“A lot of people buttoned up their social media accounts and deleted dubious old tweets and digital missteps. Those who didn’t private their pages went anon or found sides of the internet where their outcastable idiosyncrasies were allowed to bubble around in peace.” ⤴️
“confessionalism became a popular way to construct one’s identity,” ⤴️
“radical transparency became a fetishized currency.” ⤴️
“sometimes it was just digitizing the symptoms of your poor mental health into a followable brand or over-sharing the details of your last fuck on Twitter.” ⤴️
“habitually being too real online collapses allure even if what was said needed to be said.” ⤴️
“The gospel of internet confessionalism told us to plug up the holes in our public histories in favor of pornographic honesty” ⤴️
“what can be lost when you give the world enough to make total sense of who you are” ⤴️
“A lot of Godposters are or were autofictionists, which makes sense because both genres are attached to the beauty of constructing personal mythology and DIY lore.” ⤴️
“autofiction is actually writing a story that’s kind of autobiographical but also kind of made up,” ⤴️
“stylized half-truths i” ⤴️
“the consequences of our sins existing online forever” ⤴️
“making a myth of yourself feels like the only way forward.” ⤴️
“outsiders and onlookers are constantly trying to figure out if all of this is ironic, stylistic, or sincere. It doesn’t really matter what it is; it just matters that people keep guessing—the incoherence is what’s transgressive.” ⤴️
“lust for crawling through someone else’s ambiguity,” ⤴️
“the freedom of making this kind of content” ⤴️
“maybe communing with God through 0s and 1s makes our internet addictions feel a little more meaningful.” ⤴️
“clunky, perfect early-web sites that act as virtual confession booths, where you can select the sins you’ve committed from a menu and receive instructions for absolution.” ⤴️
“Sam Cummins (also my friend and colleague) writes, “Subculture is a computer virus that lives inside your head.”” ⤴️
“The internet moves so fast that coolness, the shell of subculture, is being hacked, corrupted, and sold back to us quicker than ever before.” ⤴️
“Godposting, in its buggy, abstract elegance, started out hacked and corrupted, which provides a buffer to its recuperation. It’ll keep getting buggier, but it’ll still eventually flatten out into souvenirs—trucker hats that say God’s Favorite in Times New Roman and screenshot memories of when what’s no longer transgressive still was.” ⤴️
“full-real poetry about God and computers, in the gleaming voice of a chittering demon.” ⤴️

Intimacy and the Machine: Godposting – or: New Internet Esotericism - Various Artists

“Godposting embraces admissions and confessions, baroque and obscure infographics, and individual mythologies” ⤴️
“is this the response to the ostensible transparency and authenticity of an online culture unable to distinguish between self-disclosure and neopuritanism?” ⤴️
“someone explained to me that the internet is a demon manifesting itself from the future” ⤴️
“a book called Fanged Noumena,” ⤴️
“scary poetry about computers.” ⤴️
“It’s the future now, and everything cool on the internet is about God.” ⤴️
“semi-anonymous Substackers writing about the internet in a way that reads like an evangelical speaking in tongues” ⤴️
“other people try to figure out if they’re being ironic or not” ⤴️
“delirious, fragmented sentences that drop off into glitchy otherworlds” ⤴️
“A new taxonomy of memes has emerged to graphically contain this interest in glyphic, transcendental wordsprawl—maps and diagrams that dissect and reassemble niche internet worlds, pasting their buzzwords onto PNG outlines of manic pixie kabbalah charts and CCRU numograms.” ⤴️
“These conceptual maps are repost candies with more complicated base notes” ⤴️
“You get an immediate hit of satisfaction through knowing you possess the cultural cleverness necessary to recognize the signifiers strung together” ⤴️
“the money’s in putting what floats to the surface of the blood and guts of the internet into something you can screenshot and share.” ⤴️
“a reaction against the aestheticized infographics that emerged in full-force during the summer of 2020,” ⤴️
it’s also the fault of AI generated templates and tools like Canva
“The consensus on this dismissal was that infographics are charming, smooth non-gestures towards real change, and that no one really ever read them carefully enough to remember what they said” ⤴️
“sticky enough to tease the grooves of your brain” ⤴️
““That’s why the unnecessary complication, the baroqueness, of these charts… is so appealing: it requires us to actually spend time decoding something,” writes my friend and colleague Alexi Alario in a” ⤴️
“In the mid 2010s, ambiguity died online—not of natural causes, it was hunted and killed.” ⤴️
“the fashionable form of posting feels in between an invocation, a shitpost, a chant, a sermon, and a poem carved into a streaked headstone.” ⤴️
“In the mid 2010s, ambiguity died online—not of natural causes, it was hunted and killed.” ⤴️
“A lot of people buttoned up their social media accounts and deleted dubious old tweets and digital missteps. Those who didn’t private their pages went anon or found sides of the internet where their outcastable idiosyncrasies were allowed to bubble around in peace.” ⤴️
“confessionalism became a popular way to construct one’s identity,” ⤴️
“radical transparency became a fetishized currency.” ⤴️
“sometimes it was just digitizing the symptoms of your poor mental health into a followable brand or over-sharing the details of your last fuck on Twitter.” ⤴️
“habitually being too real online collapses allure even if what was said needed to be said.” ⤴️
“The gospel of internet confessionalism told us to plug up the holes in our public histories in favor of pornographic honesty” ⤴️
“what can be lost when you give the world enough to make total sense of who you are” ⤴️
“A lot of Godposters are or were autofictionists, which makes sense because both genres are attached to the beauty of constructing personal mythology and DIY lore.” ⤴️
“autofiction is actually writing a story that’s kind of autobiographical but also kind of made up,” ⤴️
“stylized half-truths i” ⤴️
“the consequences of our sins existing online forever” ⤴️
“making a myth of yourself feels like the only way forward.” ⤴️
“outsiders and onlookers are constantly trying to figure out if all of this is ironic, stylistic, or sincere. It doesn’t really matter what it is; it just matters that people keep guessing—the incoherence is what’s transgressive.” ⤴️
“lust for crawling through someone else’s ambiguity,” ⤴️
“the freedom of making this kind of content” ⤴️
“maybe communing with God through 0s and 1s makes our internet addictions feel a little more meaningful.” ⤴️
“clunky, perfect early-web sites that act as virtual confession booths, where you can select the sins you’ve committed from a menu and receive instructions for absolution.” ⤴️
“Sam Cummins (also my friend and colleague) writes, “Subculture is a computer virus that lives inside your head.”” ⤴️
“The internet moves so fast that coolness, the shell of subculture, is being hacked, corrupted, and sold back to us quicker than ever before.” ⤴️
“Godposting, in its buggy, abstract elegance, started out hacked and corrupted, which provides a buffer to its recuperation. It’ll keep getting buggier, but it’ll still eventually flatten out into souvenirs—trucker hats that say God’s Favorite in Times New Roman and screenshot memories of when what’s no longer transgressive still was.” ⤴️
“full-real poetry about God and computers, in the gleaming voice of a chittering demon.” ⤴️
“Godposting embraces admissions and confessions, baroque and obscure infographics, and individual mythologies” ⤴️
“is this the response to the ostensible transparency and authenticity of an online culture unable to distinguish between self-disclosure and neopuritanism?” ⤴️
“someone explained to me that the internet is a demon manifesting itself from the future” ⤴️
“a book called Fanged Noumena,” ⤴️
“scary poetry about computers.” ⤴️
“It’s the future now, and everything cool on the internet is about God.” ⤴️
“semi-anonymous Substackers writing about the internet in a way that reads like an evangelical speaking in tongues” ⤴️
“other people try to figure out if they’re being ironic or not” ⤴️
“delirious, fragmented sentences that drop off into glitchy otherworlds” ⤴️
“A new taxonomy of memes has emerged to graphically contain this interest in glyphic, transcendental wordsprawl—maps and diagrams that dissect and reassemble niche internet worlds, pasting their buzzwords onto PNG outlines of manic pixie kabbalah charts and CCRU numograms.” ⤴️
“These conceptual maps are repost candies with more complicated base notes” ⤴️
“You get an immediate hit of satisfaction through knowing you possess the cultural cleverness necessary to recognize the signifiers strung together” ⤴️
“the money’s in putting what floats to the surface of the blood and guts of the internet into something you can screenshot and share.” ⤴️
“a reaction against the aestheticized infographics that emerged in full-force during the summer of 2020,” ⤴️
it’s also the fault of AI generated templates and tools like Canva
“The consensus on this dismissal was that infographics are charming, smooth non-gestures towards real change, and that no one really ever read them carefully enough to remember what they said” ⤴️
“sticky enough to tease the grooves of your brain” ⤴️
““That’s why the unnecessary complication, the baroqueness, of these charts… is so appealing: it requires us to actually spend time decoding something,” writes my friend and colleague Alexi Alario in a” ⤴️
“In the mid 2010s, ambiguity died online—not of natural causes, it was hunted and killed.” ⤴️
“the fashionable form of posting feels in between an invocation, a shitpost, a chant, a sermon, and a poem carved into a streaked headstone.” ⤴️
“In the mid 2010s, ambiguity died online—not of natural causes, it was hunted and killed.” ⤴️
“A lot of people buttoned up their social media accounts and deleted dubious old tweets and digital missteps. Those who didn’t private their pages went anon or found sides of the internet where their outcastable idiosyncrasies were allowed to bubble around in peace.” ⤴️
“confessionalism became a popular way to construct one’s identity,” ⤴️
“radical transparency became a fetishized currency.” ⤴️
“sometimes it was just digitizing the symptoms of your poor mental health into a followable brand or over-sharing the details of your last fuck on Twitter.” ⤴️
“habitually being too real online collapses allure even if what was said needed to be said.” ⤴️
“The gospel of internet confessionalism told us to plug up the holes in our public histories in favor of pornographic honesty” ⤴️
“what can be lost when you give the world enough to make total sense of who you are” ⤴️
“A lot of Godposters are or were autofictionists, which makes sense because both genres are attached to the beauty of constructing personal mythology and DIY lore.” ⤴️
“autofiction is actually writing a story that’s kind of autobiographical but also kind of made up,” ⤴️
“stylized half-truths i” ⤴️
“the consequences of our sins existing online forever” ⤴️
“making a myth of yourself feels like the only way forward.” ⤴️
“outsiders and onlookers are constantly trying to figure out if all of this is ironic, stylistic, or sincere. It doesn’t really matter what it is; it just matters that people keep guessing—the incoherence is what’s transgressive.” ⤴️
“lust for crawling through someone else’s ambiguity,” ⤴️
“the freedom of making this kind of content” ⤴️
“maybe communing with God through 0s and 1s makes our internet addictions feel a little more meaningful.” ⤴️
“clunky, perfect early-web sites that act as virtual confession booths, where you can select the sins you’ve committed from a menu and receive instructions for absolution.” ⤴️
“Sam Cummins (also my friend and colleague) writes, “Subculture is a computer virus that lives inside your head.”” ⤴️
“The internet moves so fast that coolness, the shell of subculture, is being hacked, corrupted, and sold back to us quicker than ever before.” ⤴️
“Godposting, in its buggy, abstract elegance, started out hacked and corrupted, which provides a buffer to its recuperation. It’ll keep getting buggier, but it’ll still eventually flatten out into souvenirs—trucker hats that say God’s Favorite in Times New Roman and screenshot memories of when what’s no longer transgressive still was.” ⤴️
“full-real poetry about God and computers, in the gleaming voice of a chittering demon.” ⤴️