In New York we meet with minds and egos, private personaliites in an
exchange of egoboo, mutual flattering.
Occasionally we hurl our bodies into one another, but the greatest
intinacy there is the product of
a social alienation yearning to be healed. Our political meetings are
full of frayed, eurotic spasms,
exchanges of gossip and factoids, peacocks spreading theri wings
through the description of projects.
The apogee of social engineering is but friendship. No line of inquiry
is ever exhausted, only
gestured at with a flourish. To the loss of territoriality is added a
loss of metal stability,
a fragmentation and globalisation of the mind, held in thrall to the
relentless storm of
information which circulates. Loss of self-definition other that of
homo economicus and an incessant
parade of made to wear personlaity types.