In the heart of the Disney State, the new Kiddieporn Kingdom of 42nd Street, the Floating Point Unit gang created a pseudo-rave-event as a digital critique of recline culture. Unlike the cozy lysol recline of the 50's--the remake 50's of the 90's reclines into a coma-state that dreams of sealing itself in a digital bubble, just like our hero Johnny Travolta (The Bubble Boy). The COMA organism played itself out as a class-access situation: first, the digital-tie boys (drifting) and first order culture workers (building)--this class got free drinks and food; second order rovers, ravers, and payers who kinda-danced, kinda-wandered, and kinda-payed to be lifted into the bubble sky; and finally, more first order culture workers, ravers, and payers got to enter the nexus of the COMA show. As the bodies danced in a frenzy the coma victims began to roll out--beautiful bodies in extropain ectasy.

Floating Point Unit's work played between the pathology of Crash technologies and the hyperbeats of the dancing bodies--a celebration of our virtual recline. The electronic eco-system was designed for the memedead who can never have enough plugs or enough space. Perhaps, no other group would have the audacity to commit an act of critique while enacting the desire of the machinic flow in such a large arena. The question now becomes can Floating Point Unit's vivisection of the motionless extended-body dig deeper into the chaos of a base materialism--of a cruel applet--that can make the digital spasm move beyond itself and become the Other of the ComaState. Can they cut into the vectors of technological liberalism which is populated by so many "bodies without organs" always/already in the synthesized aesthetic stream of the coma machines, where the only "ding an sich" is that of axiomatic capital (the reterritorialization of code). Floating Point Unit can make a scene, now can they cut deep into the Coma of organs-without-bodies and bleed data into unavowable states.

ricardo dominguez

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