MANIFESTO OF THE NEW TRANSLATION

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We can’t sleep, me and @everyone,
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in this digital light whose pixellation glows as live-streamedly as
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a charge that can think --
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cause, like it, (or not)
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we’re powered by the multiple cores.
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& linking away from http://bit.ly/QXjBMU
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the old givens http://masi.cscs.lsa.umich.edu/~crshalizi/T4PM/futurist-manifesto.html
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like a string from its theory,
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we’ve already begun a conversation at the risk of not making sense,
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furiously typing off into the internet
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our insane code.
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What we thought became a feeling
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of being happy
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with ourselves alone like satellites
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or like the guardians of a living treasure whose meaning must shift constantly or else die,
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“facing the army of enemy stars encamped in their celestial bivouacs”
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alone with the engineers in a spaceship with free wifi,
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alone with the neon gods fusing the database of databases,
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“alone with the drunkards beating their wings against the walls.”
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Then the Z Train went by, lit up like what we launched to celebrate its inauguration, sounding its reciprocally charged yawp.
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The East River rises to crown its new Venice, white-caps parading down the avenues the way a flood parades: oceanically.
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Not-talking happened more.
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Then, in the quiet of the city’s last e-mails, it was the sound the internet doesn’t make that woke us from our desktops like a roar.
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“Hey,” I said,
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“#YOLO.”
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Finally what’s been making our myths became us.
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Happy Birthday, androids.
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Happy Launch Party, flight-of-the-drones.
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What’s been keeping us from everything is made of everything that can be broken.
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k go
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The new dawn is a translation of dawn.
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Nothing = it
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If the internet were three digital horses, we went up to them.
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I rode mine like a dead man strapped to an imaginary digital horse constantly leaving,
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until the cursor threatened me like a switchblade.
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When everyone went insane all at once & in a hurry, #insanity linked us back to its source -- http://distranslation.com --
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ourselves.
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The sites made us want to stop looking.
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The internet doesn’t look like anything.
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The internet should smell like something.
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If that smell is death we will find it --
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Death hyperlinking through the field, tagged: #vast #endless #chased.
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But there is no internet-queen to offer ourselves to
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or to buy the infinity rings we sell on etsy.
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No reason to logout except the fear of logging in,
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we searched deeper, hacking past the firewalls with an axe.
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Death, having given in and finally gotten a facebook account, sent constant friend requests, intermittently updating its status.
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“What makes sense” doesn’t make sense anymore, or if it does, whatever --
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let’s forward ourselves like uncorked SPAM into that great inbox: ‘the world.’
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Let’s translate #theknown
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not to know it better, but to overwhelm the tag’s ever-increasing capacity for itself! #theknown
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#afterIsaidthat I 360’d like a puppy on its tail.
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#afterIsaidthat 2 viruses arrived like 2 reasons I shouldn’t have a computer.
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#1reasonIshouldn’t -- They got in my way.
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#shit
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My browser just #crashed.
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Does it count as a #crash if all it did was go away?
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I grew from the internet’s gutter like an absorbent tree from the dirt.
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#afterIgotup I realized
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#happiness is the devil the devil doesn’t like.
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But I like #happiness.
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A few bloggers and internet ‘journalists’ gathered then drew back at the idea
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that something should rise of chaos.
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My ipod touch shattered like the idea of sea monsters who exist.
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#BOOST
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It returns to me @theotherpaul
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having shaken off what parts weren’t needed,
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having thought it was dead it was undead to me,
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its connection faster than before.
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Then with my monitor buried in half-open windows, the windows half-buried in alerts, we emerged from the blue screen of death to put down our online policy for everybody on the internet:
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MANIFESTO OF THE NEW TRANSLATION
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1. We want to sing the love of translation, the habit of renewable energy and reconstitution.
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2. The essential elements of our translation will be change, augmentation, and the remixed.
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3. Translation has up to now magnified pensive immobility, invisibility, and slumber. We want to exalt movements of originality, feverish repetition,
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the double click, the perilous link, the syncing of devices
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4. We declare that the splendor of the world has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of translation.
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A reflexive web with its face adorned with great coded layers like the interior circulation of a mirror...
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an ever-expanding browser which seems to depict itself...is more beautiful than Parmigianino’s Self-Portrait in a Convex Mirror.
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5. We want to sing the active user whose digital plane bisects the horizon itself, laid flat by satellites.
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6. The translator must respend what warmth, glamour and prodigality’s been spent to increase the fervor of the primordial elements.
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7. Beauty exists only in repetition.
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There is no masterpiece that need not be remade.
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Translation must tell #theknown to exist for it to do that.
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A viewing, a reading, a rendering has to be
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a translation of what’s there into what it’s like that it’s there.
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Nothing exists without translation.
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8. We are on the extreme promontory of the centuries!
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The use of looking back at this moment, of opening the mysterious shutters of the impossible, is to prove the existence of Time & Space.
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We are already living in the absolute, since we have already created eternal, omnipresent reflection -- which can increase.
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9. We want to glorify peace -- the only cure for the world --
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organized protest, critical discourse, the reproductive gesture of DJS,
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the beautiful ideas which make themselves again to be remade
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and an ungendered power.
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10. We want to translate museums and libraries, fight stasis, conservatism and all the opportunist and utilitarian cowardice.
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11. “We will translate the great crowds
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out of and back into their own
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work, pleasure and revolt;
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the multi-colored and polyphonic surf of revolutions in modern capitals:”
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the nocturnal vibration of twitter and the walls of facebook lit by their nonexistent digital moonlight:
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the gluttonous torrents re-emitting their compressed thunderbirds;
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databases suspended from clouds by the thread of their servers;
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hyperlinks with the leap of cat-memes hunting the great winged phoenix:
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search engines sniffing at the edges of knowledge;
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ancient trains rerendered 3-D-ily
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like the idea of horses itself
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evolved by the pressure of time into a #force.
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The Mars rover arrives upon its peak in Darien.
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***************************************************************************
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It's everywhere that we're issuing this manifesto of generative & radical translation, by which we today are founding The New Translation,
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because we want to deliver the world from its failed attempts at mimesis, perfection, dictionaries, and funereal architecture.
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The internet has been too long the great second-hand market.
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We want to translate the innumerable cultural sites which lie vacant like a hoard of unused domain names.
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Museums, deadlinks! They don’t care what happens to them next.
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They will sleep until the alarm doesn’t go off.
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Powernap until midnight!
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The old dead artists keep messing with each other
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like a file of avatars ready to open.
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To think them dead is an act of murder.
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Fuck the flowers we place at their feet.
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Plant the plants they will turn into.
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Isn’t what they’re made of made of what the future’s going to be?
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RT: re-use
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reduce
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re-
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What can you find in an old picture except the new art breaking uncrossable barriers which obstruct the full expression of its dream?
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To translate an old picture is to reproduce our sensibility as a disjointed replica --
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remade if only to be able to smash the new container, scatter its new contents, and leave the original unharmed
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if dusted with a renovational debris.
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Our ancestors are the dead to be chaperoned
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onto the internet then freed.
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When we’re old, perhaps our ideas will be that too
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and want an oldness.
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wait no
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We will have everything, we, the new, ready, and living Translators!
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Let @thehackers stream forth & overload #thesystem
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@hackers hey
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Duplicate the archives!
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thewaybackmachine is eager to be translated!
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Divert its traffic to the new old!
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Embed the dead onto what’s still up!
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The oldest among us are not yet dead: we have therefore at least our whole lives to accomplish our task.
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When we are gone let younger and stronger remakers than we translate us like ancient fragments
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out of our failed file types into a social media.
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We’ll be @somewhereelse.
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Maybe eventually they’ll find us
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having come from afar
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fourth-dimensionally
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leaping on the light cadence of their first translations,
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touching the internet with their double-clicks.
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And there we’ll be recreated in full --
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then again but differently
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having practiced in our art
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a translatability -- to be put into another
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in one way or another
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in one way by another.
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Art can only be a translation
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of its own act of evolution &
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all its (undecidedly made) parts.
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The oldest among us are not yet dead, and yet we are heirs to an endless source of already wasted treasures, treasures of mutability, love and inexhaustible renewal, hastily, deliriously, of an action, with all our might,
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till our battery dies.
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Look @ @us.
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Everything is the source -- of everything to be translated.
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We have everything
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if being alive is that
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the way having everything that’s been written is that
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in translation
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Is this unexpected?
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Don’t you know what it’s like to misrepeat something
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constantly -- which is what living is?
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“Standing on the world’s summit we launch once again our insolent challenge to the stars!”
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Your objections? All right! We know them! Derp!
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But we also know just what our beautiful stolen intelligence affirms:
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“Everything is the source -- of everything to be translated,” it says.
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Maybe!
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k!
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The new is made of itself.
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Die nuwe is gemaak van self
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I ri është bërë nga vetë
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يتم إجراء جديد من نفسه.
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Նոր է ինքնին.
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Yeni özü edilir.
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Berria bera egin.
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Новы выраблены з сябе.
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নতুন নিজেই তৈরি করা হয়.
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Ново за себе си.
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El nou està fet de si mateix.
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新制成的本身。
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Novi se od sebe.
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Nový je vyrobena z sebe.
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Det nye består i sig selv.
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Het nieuwe is van zichzelf.
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La nova estas farita de sin.
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Uus on valmistatud ise.
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Ang bagong ay ginawa ng sarili nito.
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Uuden on tehty itse.
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La nouvelle est en elle-même.
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O novo é feita de si.
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ახალი მზადდება თავად.
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Die neue wird von selbst aus.
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Το νέο είναι κατασκευασμένο από το ίδιο.
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નવી પોતે બને છે.
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Nouvo nan se te fè nan tèt li.
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החדש הוא עשה לעצמו.
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नया खुद के किया जाता है.
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Az új készült magának.
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Hin nýja er úr sjálfu sér.
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Baru terbuat dari dirinya sendiri.
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Tá an nua déanta as féin.
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Il nuovo è fatto di sé.
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新しいそのもので作られています。
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ಹೊಸ ಸ್ವತಃ ತಯಾರಿಸಲಾಗುತ್ತದೆ.
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새로운이 자체로 구성되어 있습니다.
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ໃຫມ່ແມ່ນຂອງຕົນເອງ.
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Fit novus ipse.
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Jaunais ir izgatavots no sevi.
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Naujas savaime.
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Новиот е направен од себе.
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Baru dibuat dengan sendirinya.
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L-ġdid huwa magħmul minn innifsu.
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Den nye er laget av seg selv.
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جدید از خود ساخته شده است.
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Nowe jest samo w sobie.
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O novo é feita de si.
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Noul se face de la sine.
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Новый изготовлен из себя.
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Нова је од себе.
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Nový je vyrobená z seba.
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Nova je iz sebe.
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El nuevo está hecho de sí mismo.
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Mpya ni wa maandishi yenyewe.
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Den nya är gjord av sig själv.
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புதிய தன்னை செய்யப்பட்டது.
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కొత్త స్వయంగా తయారు చేస్తారు.
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ใหม่ถูกสร้างขึ้นมาของตัวเอง
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Yeni kendisi yapılmıştır.
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Новий виготовлений з себе.
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نئے خود بنایا ہے.
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Mới được thực hiện của chính nó.
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Mae'r newydd yn cael ei wneud o ei hun.
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די נייע איז געמאכט פון זיך.
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Take care to repeat these infamous words differently!
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At the point where the world meets its other version
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we relaunch us!
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#Hey
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#Hey @***********************************************************************************