Scrolling through celebrity gossip usually ends suddenly, with the realization that I’m wasting my time keeping tabs on how strangers spend theirs. By contrast, tracking Mary Lee felt productive, protective. Knowing her whereabouts imbued me with a weird sense of temporary power over my own fears, which were tempered by a strange intimacy.

When protesters came with signs, one clinic responded by hanging a 1-800-ABORTION sign in view so any media coverage came with free promotion. Another pretty effective tool is lawn care: remote activated sprinklers soak protesters, so landscape work is scheduled to coincide with protests, drowning out chants and giving protestors a choice between getting covered in mulch or going away. One clinic put up a rather effective hedge until police determined it’d be a perfect place for anti-choice protestors to hide a bomb.

Hydraulic press videos, featuring objects flattening under heavy machinery, feel delightfully primitive. Not everything needs to bear the weight of profundity. Sometimes it’s enough to simply enjoy a little destruction.

Andromeda bot offers a look at the physical universe, something that is, no matter what meaning we ascribe to it. The expansiveness that each tweet communicates makes me feel tiny. Even though the pain of losing Mark feels bigger than anything else. The stars shine for no one at all and the bot tweets endlessly to an unknown audience. We look to the stars for meaning, we make the bots that go on and on without us.