# more medical updates have now been officially informed that my rsi stems from impinged nerves in my upper spine. was sent three new quality nhs therapy videos featuring exercises to do. the vids show a remarkably fit and toned young woman who obviously never was forced by ir initial pre-set low social position on the capitalist ladder to economic nirvana to type bad science fiction for more than three years on a lousy couch ultra-specific exercises such as these are an entire world away from addressing the true causes of pain and useless suffering in such a greedy and inherently unfair society and one suspects that's precisely why they exist - precisely in order one does not think about the true causes of pain under exploitative capitalist work(tm) almost all thoughts of the various projects i'm supposed to be starting have jettisoned from my empty brain. only back and shoulder pain remain. the only comfort i derive from this unhealthy situation is that the whole and expansive notion of antiwork rises to the surface - in that the artwork (art as work) i was engaging with before my rsi solar flare felt far more like the actual hard work and pointless grind it was before; whereas now after the flareup my psyche feels renewed with the possibility that's opened up via the philosophical notion of antiwork art in such a conceptual space is no longer about creation but of mere idle speculation from a utopia or non space (a mythical republic of bob perhaps) - ironically it becomes / mutates into / returns to the kind of bad conceptual art rich privileged hip artists of whiteness love to display on the bare white walls of some posh uptown gallery - a banana or chair or boxes of clothes soap piled high - and just as thankfully devoid of any meaning other than uselessly symbolic just some idle thoughts from idle fingers getting up to much conceptual mischief - sitting here alone in my frozen rented shoebox flat with giant silverfish the damp smell of creeping mould on the walls and a lingering sense of zero opportunities for decent passionately motivated art ahead --- from the top again: flock art forget art - it's almost never about art but about the community of vibrant like-minded souls coming together to express ir collective symbolic meanings i can't sit here typing for any more than 15mins at a time - any more than that and my neck starts to ache like it's being twisted into a salted new york pretzel. i simply must remember jazzy b's superlative advice - "keep on moving now don't stop" movement is my new mantra - from movement to movement with ease poise and deep power. 'markour' as i am beginning to understand it - rather than (social class) stasis - certainly feels like it should be at the beating heart of the republic. forever travelling to new strange places (of the collective imagination) and having existentially life-affirming micro-adventures there. except the rob is nowhere - a no man's land where there be little but fine sink exotic spices and dragons back in a bit going to go through those rsi-specific exercises my nhs physio recommended **// thoughts arising out of rsi** (how we got here to this bad state and what it means) every moment we concede to the computer - which are always machines of the system - every time we sit down in order to allow them to change us from living dynamic beings to static objects for manipulation and exploitation - we reduce and erode our capacity for health and genuine self expression computers and computing are square holes in which people - workers and art-workers alike - are the round sausage meat forced through by downward pressure by the ruling class in order to make square obedient pegs of deadness and silent obedience. no genuinely liberating movements base around computers seems possible; rather the act of computing is always the act of forcing one's already free and flexible nature into ever-move restrictive and repetitive patterns. (perhaps the classic image of this is a line of deck chairs on an earth-destroying super luxury cruise ship upon which lay a bunch of pasty overweight neck-bearded nerds of whiteness with laptops - programming ir own untimely deaths) it's sobering to consider that every single moment i've spend with / around / inside computers - being a biological computation mechanism of useless never ending data - has been little but a cosmic joke at the reader's expense. someone who would have been far better off actively running away from this dead republic of words words words / code code code - or maybe dancing around the dead spots that is the dead spots caused by the constant and unceasing immobility of useless communication - rather than as usually conceived ie a loss in communication; baudrillard 101 the interesting idea that all attempts at communication out here in the dead world of the regular internet are themselves dead and deadening spots of stasis immobility and utter lack of genuine social change // republic of bob