Leaving planet Earth isn’t easy. This year, NASA’s Astronaut Candidate Program received a record 18,000-plus applications from highly qualified scientists bent on discovering space’s deep abyss. It will choose a handful, if that.

1) Not felt. Smoke still rises vertically. In sensitive individuals, déjà vu, mild amnesia. Sea like a mirror. 2) Detected by persons at rest or favourably placed, i.e. in upper floors, hammocks, cathedrals, etc. Leaves rustle.

Here’s a game: which of these poems was written by a human, and which by a computer? Answer: the first one is a computer, the second one is Gertrude Stein. You can find both of these poems on the website Bot or Not, “a Turing Test for poetry” created by Oscar Schwartz and Benjamin Laird.

So, you want to write but can’t afford those darned writing courses you see advertised online or in all those fancy cultural ‘zines you spend your hard earned dollars on? Well, fret no more, for now you can have your very own creative writing class from William S.

Pyramid Schemes

Nicolas Cage is one of the most versatile actors of all time.Nicolas Cage moves fruit to mouth with imperceptible motion.Nicolas Cage doesn’t usually like to admit his feelings.Nicolas Cage’s face hand painted on a denim jacket.Nicolas Cage was attractive in the 1980s.Nicolas Cage meant to steal the Declaration of Independence, But instead he stole her heart.Nicolas Cage can do anything you can do better.Nicolas Cage surfs with the emotions of others.Nicolas Cage has a way with words.YESTERDAY, I REPLACED ALL OF OUR FAMILY PHOTOS WITH NICOLAS CAGE’S FACE, AND MY PARENTS STILL HAVEN’T NOTICED.Keep Calm And Imagine Nicolas Cage Saying : “Mumbo Jumbo.”Nicolas Cage leaps out, cackling and howling at the moon.Nicolas Cage texts with no spaces.Nicolas Cage sings “Love Shack” by the B-52’s.Nicolas Cage’s Face on Every Character in ‘The Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask’.Nicolas Cage is looking at himself in a mirror right now.Nicolas Cage owns a 9-foot-tall pyramid in New Orleans and plans to be buried in it. But instead he stole her heart.Nicolas Cage stars as Nicolas Cage in: Nicolas Cage.Nicolas Cage smells like new born baby birds.Find out how Nicolas Cage handles his relationships and test what you and Nicolas Cage have going in love, marriage, friendship, partnership, dating and more.Sometimes at parties, two or more people ask Nicolas Cage questions at the same time.Nicolas Cage meets Shia Labeouf at the Oscars when competing in the same category. Shia Labeouf teaches Nicolas Cage how to ‘feel’.Nicolas Cage gets more than he bargained for during the new moon.Nicolas Cage sponsored by Crocs on Internet Explorer.Nicolas Cage isn’t affected by water, which shouldn’t be much of a surprise, since he isn’t a normal cat.Nicolas Cage Performs John Cage’s Silent Masterpiece, “4:33”.Nicolas Cage became the first person to ever check his email without a computer, But instead he stole her heart.Nicolas Cage is switching on the Christmas lights in Bath.“Some religious extremists speculate Nicolas Cage’s head is a hollow vessel that angels will occupy on Judgment Day.”Please don’t masturbate, Nicolas cage.Nicolas cage thinks YOU are a terrible actor.Nicolas Cage’s condition is caused by two magnetic poles.Nicolas Cage is on a plane full of convicts.Nicolas Cage developed his own acting method, and it’s called Nouveau Shamanic.Nicolas Cage rode a centaur through a local Woolworths demanding ‘all the midget gems’.Nicolas Cage is inspired by his pet cobra.Nicolas Cage Pisses Fire.Nicolas Cage is the pinnacle of all human achievement.Nicolas Cage was temporary President of Angola for six months in 1997.Nicolas Cage is at home, reading a new script and drinking coffee, when he, after a short period of time and a couple of sudden happenings, finds himself in Equestria, whereupon he is arrested. But instead he stole her heart.Tonight: Nicolas Cage WILL be here.When I die, throw pictures of Nicolas Cage into my grave.

Held at the rich mix arts centre on February 9th 2013, the fourth in the Camarade series and the first event of the Enemies project (www.weareenemies.com) saw thirteen pairings of British and European poets read original avant garde and literary poetry collaborations for a remarkable evening of contemporary poetic performance.

Horse_ebooks is having a moment.

Of the accounts that follow me on Twitter, half are spambots. About 15% are companies or organizations whose social media interns found me on a list somewhere, and another 15% are something in between: not definitely bots, but not exactly humans. Whatever they are, they're not "listening" in any meaningful sense. Among the remaining group are some people I like, some people I like a lot, some people I don't know, and a bunch of technology PR professionals who don't really have a choice.

it must have been when i was a boy at school that the phonograph was invented. at any rate it was at that time a chief object of public wonder; this was probably the reason why our science master, a man given to busying himself with all kinds of handiwork, encouraged us to try our skill in making one of these instruments from the material that lay nearest to hand. nothing more was needed than a piece of pliable cardboard bent to the shape of a funnel, on the narrower round orifice of which was stuck a piece of impermeable paper of the kind used to seal bottled fruit. this provided a vibrating membrane, in the middle of which we then stuck a bristle from a coarse clothes brush at right angles to its surface. with these few things one part of the mysterious machine was made, receiver and reproducer were complete. it now only remained to construct the receiving cylinder, which could be moved close to the needle marking the sounds by means of a small rotating handle.

Above all, the translation of books into digital formats means the destruction of boundaries. Bound, printed texts are discrete objects: immutable, individual, lendable, cut off from the world. Once the words of a book appear onscreen, they are no longer simply themselves; they have become a part of something else. They now occupy the same space not only as every other digital text, but as every other medium too. Music, film, newspapers, blogs, videogames—it’s the nature of a digital society that all these come at us in parallel, through the same channels, consumed simultaneously or in seamless sequence.

by John Cayley

Digital utopianism is still with us. It is with us despite having been tempered by network logistics and an all-too-reasonable demand for 'content.' Admittedly, New Media has aged. It has acquired a history or at least some genuine engagement with the reality principle, now that the Net is accepted as a material and cultural given of the developed world, now that the dot.coms have crashed, now that unsolicited marketing email and commercialism dominates network traffic. Nonetheless, artistic practice in digital media is still often driven by youthful, escapist, utopian enthusiasms. Net Art as such pretends to leapfrog this naivety through the wholesale importation of informed, ironic, postmodern conceptualism, offering us the shock of the virtual-visceral banal at every possible juncture. Other, more traditionally delineated arts - literature, music, photography, fine art, architecture, graphics, etc. - struggle to cope with the reconfiguration of their media, or with a

A surreal webgame, littered with explosive potentialities. Help the arrow escape influential pages from historical art movements.

Holly Pester is a performance poet currently working on a project with the Barry Museum in Manchester. I, raven, the is about the relationship between words and sound, and the title itself inevitably brings to mind Edgar Allan Poe’s The Raven, in which the refrain “Never More” reads increasingly, as the poem progresses, as less like words and more like sounds.

Pester’s poem attempts to capture the “shape of words” and as she reads, her mouth contorts into shapes. The result is a series of sounds from everyday life that seem disconnected from the actual meaning of the words. “The sound is a square” is a constant refrain, and Pester duly shapes her mouth like a square, producing a churned-up sound. Words rhyming or related in sound to square (such as war) are similarly chewed over and mangled. Pester says of the poem’s protagonist that he “is concerned with the physical world ”, while the sounds of the physical world invade the piece, with growls and pips emerging from Pester’s mouth th

by Daniel Rourke

Japan. That's where I am. With the rice-triangles and the tatami-mats and row upon row of vending machines. In a country where serving others is paramount, and where holidays are something that other people do, I find myself being served - on holiday... I am the ultimate gaijin 1 and every ticket I buy and photo I take seems to confirm this. I came to see Japan. But now I realise that the culture of seeing has been commodified into an experience in itself, and perhaps not an experience any of us are capable of moving beyond alone.

Please don't misunderstand me. I love Japan. I lived here from 2004 until 2006, teaching English on the outskirts of a medium sized city on the island of Kyushu. The experience enriched me, precisely because it tore me from my anchors. Because it helped me understand where I had come from. On the surface Japan behaves like the perfect machine, with all its components functioning within designated parameters. And what's more, that machine just seems to work, with hardly anyone screaming to get off. The Japanese are a nation in a very different sense to us Brits. And for a small-town, West Yorkshire boy like myself, being part of that nation, that huge entity, all be it for only 24 months of my life, is still one of my most humbling experiences. But even as I gush about Japan being here can often feel like toiling through an endless urban labyrinth. With little of cultural merit to distinguish the pachinko parlours from the snack bars and multi-storey car parks Japan can seem grey, shallow and everything but refined. But when it surprises you, whether you're picking blueberries in the mountains or being served delicate morsels of fish in the private room of your ryokan, Japan redefines the word privileged. I feel privileged to have lived here, I feel privileged to be travelling through it. Yet, keeping hold of that feeling is not always easy. The problem is not completely a Japanese one. Worldwide tourism has moulded, cast and set into faux-stone souvenirs the types of experiences we can access. Even those attempting to wind their own path through the deserts of Mongolia or the jungles of Brazil will occasionally find themselves face to face with a toll-booth and turnstile scrawled in badly translated English instructions. The forces of the free-market mean that being somewhere has come to mean "being near this particular cultural commodity". Any 21st century traveller who believes that they can get to the authentic heart of an experience will have to pay for a ticket somewhere along the track. Had the restless 17th century poet Matsuo Bashō known that his musings on the River Ōi would be turned into a set of commemorative face flannels he might very well have never set out on the road to Fuji:

In a wayIt was funNot to see Mount FujiIn foggy rain 2 Like Bashō I aim to plant myself in a place, more deeply than at the toll-booth and souvenir shop. But with every photograph I've taken of a monument, of a neon high-street or sunset, I've moved further away from this essential desire. Lest we forget the verb 'to be' whenever we are trying to be somewhere, somewhen, somehow. The Japanese seem particularly keen on the token of the experience. Whether it is the photo of themselves issuing the 'V' sign in front of Mount Fuji, or the gift-set of sweet rice-cakes they take home as omiyage 3 for their grandmother. At first I thought this was nothing more than tourism top-trumps. A way to out-do your neighbour with 20 'sugoii!' 4 points over her holiday snaps. But unlike the Westerner's conception of the experience gained, the Japanese live to share their commodities with each other. Suddenly holiday photos are more than a way to put cousin Seth to sleep, they are a ticket for every member of your family, of your friendship group, your work mates and arch-enemies, to take a little bit of your experience for themselves. The machine of Japanese society is oiled by holiday snaps and boxes of seaweed crackers stamped with the silhouette of Hello Kitty. Before I lived here I read that the Japanese spend the same equivalent of their GDP on omiyage as America spends on law-suits and litigation. In this sense, the commodity of 'being somewhere' has far greater value for Japanese society than the mere personal. If we in the West were offered the chance to swap all our law-suits and lawyers for seaweed crackers, I hope we'd at least consider it. Perhaps the value I grasp for in my lived experience would be better shared than savoured for myself. Is it possible then to have an experience without commodifying it? I'm not sure if it is. Whether through my photo collection or the stuttering inadequacies of my language, I find it increasingly difficult to pinpoint what it was about an experience that lingers within me. As the smorgasbord of human experiences is extended, enhanced, mixed and matched between cultures and languages, what there is to take away with us seems increasingly shallow. Turn on The Discovery Channel and be instantly smacked around the face with the token beauty of the world. Travel there yourself, whether by tourist boat or chartered jet, and wallow in the sense that where you are right now is not where you normally find yourself. Without meaning to paint the entire Japanese nation with one brush, I do feel that they have got something right with their tourism tokens. They have brought in from the outside the gamut of experiences the world has to offer. They have reduced them to a pocket souvenir, or a sliver of flavour that lingers on the tongue, and shared them around for everyone to make sense of. The idea that we should all escape our lives for a while, should buy a reduced price ticket and lose ourselves on a pristine, simulacrum of a beach somewhere, bothers me. The only time I have ever felt distant from myself was when I was at the mercy of a culture who take pride in the commodities of their experiences. Who exist to share them. To really believe for one moment that I can find something, out here, that is true, that is mine and only mine is a little naive. When I finally get back on my flight, disembarking at Terminal 2 of Heathrow, only then will I once again be living the absolutely individual experience that is my own. For it is only through my removal and return to London that my deepest experiences are founded. If I am going to be anywhere, I may as well be where and what I am, and not what my plane ticket promises me I can be:

Coming home at lastAt the end of the year,I wept to findMy old umbilical cord 5

Notes 1. 'Gaijin' is the Japanese word for a foreigner, or, outsider.2. Poem taken from, The Records of a Weather-Exposed Skeleton, one of Matsuo Bashō's journeys as recounted in The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches.3. A souvenir or gift that represents something about a trip you have taken. Omiyage usually takes the form of a foodstuff that is 'unique' to the place visited.4. 'Sugoii!' roughly translates as Great! or Brilliant!.5. Poem taken from, The Records of a Travel-worn Satchel, one of Matsuo Bashō's journeys as recounted in The Narrow Road to the Deep North and Other Travel Sketches.

by Daniel Rourke

A collaborartion between Joshua Kaye (composer) and Holly Pester (poet and text artist)

Presidents Birds and Even

At the conception of this project Kaye and Pester created a system of exchange and translation, developing shared concerns for chance operations, periphery speech sounds and the thrill of live performance. By trading sound, text and image material, they allowed the piece to workshop itself out of their (re)interpretation and (mis)translation. Kaye and Pester have engendered not only a musical score, but a hypertextual network of graphic notation, sound poetics and a prolific collaborative partnership.

The piece works as a triptych, with each instant both setting Pester’s text and also conceptually representing each visual poem. The piece is also interspersed with rhythmic interludes.

Baritone – Alex Garziglia

Percussion 1 – Catherine Ring

Percussion 2 – Louise Morgan

Take this article, for example. It is an unwinding spring of phonic sounds, encoded into a series of arbitrary symbols, stretching from left to right within an imaginary frame projected onto the surface of your computer screen. Here lies the perfect example of an artefact with intention behind it. A series of artefacts in fact, positioned by my mind and placed within a certain context (i.e. 3QD: a fascinating and widely read blog). As a collection, as an article, its intention is easy to distinguish. I wanted to say something, so I wrote an article, which I hoped would be read by a certain audience. But what of the intention of each individual object within the whole? What was the original intention of the letter 'A' for example? Do we decide that the intention is connected to all speakers of the English language, perhaps? Or maybe all literate members of the human race? Or maybe the human race as a whole?