Oh boy, do I love junk! Couldn't live without it. Wouldn't be me without it. If you ever see a pair of eyes darting rapidly back and forth from under the shade cast by a heap of hock, it's probably me, plotting, on the verge of another bargain-bin binge. Before I purged my physical form and entrusted my consciousness to the info-flood of the internet,* I was an irredeemable packrat, rolling through garage sales and estate liquidations, accumulating all manner of impractical, forlorn, and puzzlingly obsolescent objects like a literal Katamari Damacy- only I wasn't making stars, I just had a habit of rehoming things that looked unloved.** Now I am on the internet full time, and here there is no shortage of neglected things crying out for TLC, old and new, worthy and otherwise... to each their own... Ninajirachi's debut LP
I Love My Computer is not one of these things; it is not a rejected or misfit object, floating belly up in the infostream,* but actually a lot of them, colliding together to create its own destination: a nation of lapsed alignments and split-end inputs, a sanctuary of shallows where the aberrant run ashore- particles of gnawed clean segements of early ‘00s EDM, half-recollected game OSTs, fractalized and incompletely archived forum threads, grainy pop videos looping in the skeleton of unsupported media players, bird songs that sound like undiscovered Pokémon, old iPods congregating in colonies begging to have their wheels stroked, Nokia 3210s waltzing on the splistream of TOS defying torrents, sprites from PS1 platformers dozing in the shade of an elephantine polygonal bucket stretched between partially rendered palm trees along a pixel-patch shore... It's a paradise of sorts, for those whose hearts are open to it... a dam against the tides of oblivion by obscurity... an ark of rogue curios... One person's junk is another's treasure, and the orchestra of oddments Ninajirachi is surely some dross that I hold dear.
