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In a Time of Plague

So one of the things that I’ve been working on lately is trying to avoid information overload while still allowing myself the opportunity to discover new things. Part of this process involved spending a couple of hours mapping out a substantial cross-section of the ways in which I send, receive, and store data using the internet. Looking at the visual representation, C said she felt stressed out by the number of things with which I interacted regularly and wondered why.

I said, and continue to believe, that it was because it was a comprehensible representation of the scope of the web. The complexity of my process scaled out to encompass a huge group of people gives a sense of the irreducible complexity, but not one so overwhelming that the mind simply doesn’t acknowledge it.

At this point it’s a Barthean “punctum,” placing it only barely on this side of trauma. On the face of I it, it’s easy to find this a bit overwrought, but I think it bears scrutiny. If you think about, people have always tended to avoid acknowledging the degree to which the world scales beyond them, and the world has never been so far beyond the average person as it is now, but I’m getting ahead of myself (I mean, it is the future.)

In a related development, your uncle Bruce wrote an article for Wired (a magazine that I would love to hate, but the degraded state of our discourse means it’s pretty damn good) about this newfangled “New Aesthetic.” Now I probably should have had more of an idea about this whole phenomenon, but for some reason the package as such was new to me, although I have long been familiar with the products from every day life.

Sterling starts with some effusive praise, and then gets down to the business of complaining. His objections are sound, but I think that there are two things that he says and then doesn’t combine which constitutes a significant oversight. The first observation is that many of the networks that NA celebrates are overtly hostile. No amount of charming glitches, for example, make a police surveillance network like London’s anything other than overt fascism. A lot of negative things that should be called out are instead played down.

The second is that the “8-bit” aspect of NA is complete fucking bullshit, and while he recognizes that, his analysis of it is where things go a bit wrong. Here’s what he says about them:

Finally, retro ’80s graphics are sentimental fluff for modern adults who grew up in front of 1980s game-console machines. Eight-bit graphics are pretty easy to carve out of styrofoam. There’s a low barrier-to-entry in making sculpture from 8-bit, so that you can “rupture the interface between the digital and the physical.” However 8-bit sculptures are a cute, backward-looking rupture.

This makes the whole pixelizing the external world thing seem like something that can be trimmed off, but the pixelization is actually an integral part of the process whereby people allow themselves to ignore the dangers of things like surveillance networks by making them cute. It’s a metaphor that allows someone to form an idea about how a network interacts with the world without being overwhelmed by the experience. Unfortunately, deployment of this metaphor doesn’t just ignore the unpleasant aspects of the things under observation, it actively confuses the viewer. The fact is, we’re already past the pixel-era. The eyes of the network are getting more acute all the time, and the charming pixel metaphor is a willful blindness to that, and a rush to repression.

I kind of want to talk more about this, including the fact that all human error is attributable to inappropriate metaphors, so stay tuned.

April 3rd, 2012

Will and Representation

So today was kind of theoretical for the most part. I drew a big diagram for something I need to take care of going forward. To be more specific, I outlined how I’d get an easy to read representation of the probability table once it has been built. The reason for this is that right now there is now way to check that the overall structure is working the way that I’d like it to. At some point (like hopefully tomorrow) I have to find a very short document, figure out what I’d like the table built from it to look like by hand, and then compare it to the results from my parser. This will be daunting, but I think it will also be very satisfying.

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Ulysses, by James Joyce — I — Stately, plump Buck Mulligan brought up a nation for I’m living in the art of feudalism as Walt Whitman called it, is gathering together a sheaf of our spirit. We are praying now for the press. –If Bloom were here, the professor said, coming forward. The key scraped round harshly twice and, when it was all about. Wonderful organisation certainly, goes like clockwork. Confession. Everyone wants to. Then I will tell us at doomsday leet. But a long way along the North Circular from the crown and peace

Speaking of not being sure that things are working correctly: the HTML parser is clearly broken, and only the fact that running it takes a million years has kept me from noticing that. Well, at least there is an obvious problem to track down.

February 12th, 2012

Fusion

Here, brought to you by conversations I had with my dad and computer glitches, are location markers for diners in Northampton, MA on a map of Paris.

glitch
December 23rd, 2011

Parrying His Own Tweets

One of the stops on my busy Thanksgiving sojourn was Matthew’s, where he and his mother attempted to coerce C’s experiences into a narrative about how texting is rotting the delicate minds of the youth of America, and god only knows what else. During the discussion I took it upon myself to point out that adults weren’t any less susceptible to the compulsions of constant phonography, but because that was orthogonal to what they were trying to get C to say it only held anyone’s attention as fleetingly as a “LOL” sent via text message.

I think that texting/mobile web abuse is related to the confusion I touched upon here, wherein people think this stream constitutes some kind of grasp on the world. Inundated with a steady stream of faux-information and faux-communication (fauxmunication?), people are too busy pressing buttons to wonder about the quality of things, which heads off some troubling questions.

This is the look — even as late as Proust — of the object of a love which only a city dweller experiences, which Baudelaire captured for poetry, and of which one might not infrequently say that it was spared, rather than denied, fulfillment.

–Benjamin, Illuminations, 170.

December 3rd, 2011

Random Minutiae

Here is a blog post in which the author compares reviews on sites like Google Maps (or, of course, horrible places like Citysearch and Yelp) to the fragments that Benjamin collected for his Arcades Project. Now the author seems (from his post’s title, at least) to be amused primarily by the insight the “review” grants into the psyches of the dramatically overentitled, but I think it’s also intriguing inasmuch as our banker-hero decides that a place is cool, and then the obvious next step is to mold the place to her/his tastes. Everything homogenizes so much that you might as well remake all of it after your own tastes. Horrible, really.

At any rate, here are some pictures I took in the bath:

Yoshi high-fiving himself.

Slightly less chickey-leggy than the last shot.

Refreshed, I went out into the world.

February 25th, 2011

Where the Watermelons Grow

So I’m down in San Francisco kind of soaking in the ambience. And also the rain. Went to the Trieste, and Vesuvio’s this afternoon, so I guess I’ve totally covered the authentic North Beach experience. As you know, I am all about the authentic experience.

October 25th, 2010

And Occasionally

I make it out into the world.

lando

silos

pipe

morewindows

wall

July 10th, 2010