what i’m getting is _ __ _ _ __
from allucquere stone’s The War of Desire and Technology at the Close of the Mechanical Age, passages to build a paper on:
“[I]n virtual systems interactions are, after all, a bit different [from normal and real interactions]. … The chief difference is the effect of changing the density of the communication, or the bandwidth. Bandwidth … refers to the amount of information exchanged in unit time. “Reality” is wide-bandwidth, because people who communicate face to face in real time use multiple modes simultaneously — speech, gestures, facial expression, the entire gamut of semiotics” (93).
simple enough — there are certain contents that can’t be communicated through virtual media. the consequence stone identifies might be more interesting:
“The effect of narrowing bandwidth is to engage more of the participants’ interpretive faculties. … [F]or symbolic exchange originating at and relating to the surface of the body, narrowing the bandwidth has startling effects. A deep need is revealed to create extremely detailed images of the absent and invisible body, of human interaction, and the symbol-generating artifacts which are part of that interaction. Frequently in narrow-bandwidth communication the interpretive faculties of one participant or another are powerfully, even obsessively, engaged” (93).
the technological aspect of stone’s premise of wide/narrow-bandwidth communication is no longer novel at this point; that there are workarounds and responses to the necessarily incomplete communication of the self through technology is an obvious yet fruitful avenue for study.
it’s the premise itself, reality-side, that interests me. (granted, i’m sure psychoanalysis provides more tried and true vocabulary and concepts to discuss the same thing — lack, narrative, desire, compulsion and all that. but the P word soured on me a long time ago.) really, it’s the metaphor of bandwidthed communication and the line of language it activates that have me giddy:
one can speak, even in face to face communication, of lost, untransmitted bits of the self; unused or improperly and inefficiently used modes of communication; images of people and life that in one’s mind are in high resolution though experienced in low-res modes — the missing pixels filled in by an eager, over-active mind that can only guess at the right hues; the ultimate impossibility of the virtual image matching the richness of the physical thing being represented, no matter how obsessively one asks questions and attentively listens for answers to attempt to reconstruct that richness (i will never know you).
[hey, didn’t barthes expose the myth of realism?]
sensei benjamin and volosinov
a gem in the end o quarter portfolio pile:
“It has been a fascination especially among students to imagine would it would be like for two masters to face one another. This could be applied to martial arts such as karate versus kung fu, or two b-boy break dancers to battle. It could also be applied in less physically violent terms such as, maybe, philosophy. Walter Benjamin and V.N. Volosinov were both well established philosophers having written essays on their beliefs. “
when i’m busy i read the news
… nothing useful of course.
little nerdy birdies tell me there’s a meteor shower coming, the peak of which can be caught this friday at 1645 gmt. for us u.s. pacific coasters, that’s 845p. i’m currently scouting the darkest pockets of seattle from which to gaze at the sky, thermos o hot chocolate in hand, body insulated in blankets.
people who fall into the unholy overlap of basketball and blog enthusiasm probably already know about gilbert arenas’ blog. i didn’t realize how prolific a blogger the man is; his posts are long, meandering things — good material for pretending like you know the guy, as if such a thing is possible with men of his stature (or with anyone, really). texts, blogs especially, are deceptive in offering such a promise. this is all to get me to the important point: apparently arenas is single again (though apparently not for long). oh gilbert arenas, how i love thee, bravado and all.
and finally, this — yay for basketball-watching over the winter break! college football? meh. cal has failed me.
interface explosion
the last two nights (or last week, even, if practices count) have overloaded my sociability circuits.
two fora, two audiences with different cultural narratives, rationalities, and operating assumptions.
1.
if PCN had been a big part of my college life and if the scale of that extravaganza had been 1/8 what it was, i imagine it would have been like the final show put on by my tagalog class: numerous planning sessions; power-infused leaders of the pack who are Seriously Serious (which i don’t mind — someone has to lead, and it won’t be me); hours spent at practice, half of which entail most of us sitting around; the catharsis of the performance itself. and cheesy jokes. many cheesy jokes about filipino-ness revolving around puns and mispronunciation (for which i admit i’m a sucker — here, some validation of my filipino-ness).
this is to say, i’m still OK with not having been in PCN. but i see how such things can cement a community of filipino folks on campus. the affair requires interactions structured by some hierarchy and delegation of labor, but it’s all organic enough so that one feels an attachment to the final product and the people who share it.
2.
last night multo/A and i played at jaime and neil’s (of world history) apartment-warming party. redbear, blanket truth, craig salt peters, and (eventually) world history also played. it was lovely hearing everyone’s music, and being heard by a small group of listeners in an intimate space. j and n’s place is cozy and well decorated, to boot.
since i’m relatively new to playing and taking in music this way, i was both charmed by and jittery about it all. music and musicians for me have been off in the distance; i go to shows and, whether the show is large or small, make myself inconspicuous and my ears and eyes all-enveloping. my mouth doesn’t usually get any exercise at these things. the imperative to interact is something to get used to, maybe. the setting seems like an ideal way to really listen to music, to listen and appreciate carefully, to let music-makers know they’re loved.
j and n were gracious hosts. i hope their apartment has been warmed accordingly.
—
for now, back to being a recluse. it’s that time of the quarter — for grading, reading, writing, and otherwise shutting myself off from the outside, save for those trips to the coffee shop or gym, at which i can pretend to interact with people by virtue of being around so damn many of them.
scrabbel is looking to be my soundtrack for the end of the quarter. file them/him under Things I Wish I’d Done/Heard/Seen While I Was Living In The Bay Area. that’s far too long for a blog category.