PIXEL HANGOVER, OR TOMORROW DOESN'T EXIST

So look, you gawker. This ain't some, like, internet pic, nah, it's, like, this thing. A PIXEL. You get it, PI-XEL. Square on a square, but not like some lego crap someone slapped together. This here is a concept, you see?

This pseudo-art, pseudo-interface, it's like… how to put it… a metaphor. A metaphor for what, I don't even know, but if these colors make your mouth dry, it means it, like, got to you, yeah?

Those lines, those… those… blurred shapes, this ain't no aesthetic for corporate wimps. This here is chaos, man. Brain chaos, system chaos, chaos all over the place. That's how it looks when reality is falling apart, plain and simple. After vodka, after life, after everything.

So what, you sit and stare at this pixelated mess, and you think. About what? About nothing. Or maybe about everything. Or maybe you ain't thinking at all. Maybe it just seems like it. Like in this, like, crap that surrounds us.

And what you gonna do? Like it? Dislike it? What's the difference anyway? There is no tomorrow, cause there's only THIS PIXEL. Crap.