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Re: Web 2.0 ... The Machine is Us/ing Us This is how I ramble and shift to and fro like I (More) This is how I ramble and shift to and fro like I have a nerve disorder. Transcript follows:
Response to http://youtube.com/watch?v=6gmP4nk0EOE
"To this video, you replied "I don't get it." Because according to your profile, you're 13, and before I am flamed, I would like to point out that I'm not insutling your intelligence due to your age. I am saying you were basically born with the internet... so tech savvy or not, you havn't seen the older generations of the internet, as it were.
To clarify, it's sort of like asking a 13 year old like yourself (or a 19, nearly 20 year old like myself) to fully appreciate the difference between a vynil and cassette tape (I don't think you are too young for those.) Even if we happen consider Turntablism a modern phenomenon.
But anyhow, my metaphore is probably a bit off, but, having been online since the days of AoL 3, Compuserve, and the like, when people still had to dial in, before broadband, when the fastest internet you could buy, was still slower than the slowest dial up today. Before the internet had Video, when the only movement you could see online was scrolling text or ugly glitter-GIFs on a disheveled, poorly formatted, poorly coded Angelfire page. Before you could Download an MP3 (before they existed), and all the music on the internet was annoying digitized .MIDI files. Back before Blogging, when if you actually knew how to write HTML well enough to have a web journal, your opnion could actually be considered valid. Back when a person's desktop walpaper from today, can use more memory than most website used (or than most computers even had), all but 5 or 6 yeas ago. Hell, even back before Forums existed as we know and troll them today, back in the day of the bulletin boards and single-post newsgroups...
Before YouTube, Blogger, BitTorrent, and MySpace. Before community efforts like Wikipedia, deviantArt and SecondLife served both as cultural hubs, and social whipping-posts. Before e-commerce, before eBAY and Amazon, when you actually had to SHOP online to get what you were looking for. Back when electronics didn't mean iTronics. Before the MMO, the FPS, before PlayOnline and Windows went LIVE. Back before RSS, when you actually had to know where to look to find the information you were looking for; Back when Google wasn't a demigod, and when Yahooligans still existed. Back when the internet was a big deal.
Back when Instant Feedback, in a brave new world of Instant Gratification, by means of Instant Messaging; back when Instantanious meant it was slower than it is today.
I have to say, in my opinion, it's a very exciting time.
I get it."
Good day, Soylent Hero. (Less)
Janet Kuypers poem "David", 08/14/05... Janet Kuypers performed this poem in the live (More) Janet Kuypers performed this poem in the live Chicago feature at the Beach Poets (Loyola Beacg, Chicago) August 14th, 2005. Because this is a live venue on the beach, there were no microhpones, and since Janet Kuypers has a bit of distance between her and the camera (and there is also a bit of wind off of Lake Michigan in Chicago) it is often not very easy to hear the poems from this show. But if you want to either see the full show, or hear studio mp3 recordings from this show, go to the web page http://www.janetkuypers.com/janetkuypers-dot-com--files/beach-poets08-14-05.htm to get the sudio clips, or even the chapbook that was released on the same day with this event. This is the original poem: David When I know you're not going out anywhere in the morning, I get dressed, brew some flavored coffee, put it in a thermos, and bring my book to that hut on the corner of San Lu Rue Avenue. The coffee tastes good when the Florida air is just chilly enough to open your eyes. I sit there, and I write, usually about you, and I wait. I know you're a late riser, but within a half hour you're there. Empty mug in one hand, drawing book and pencils in the other. Cigarettes in pocket. You look tired. But I'm awake. I used to fear for your life, you know, when you were messed up with the drugs, the gangs. I'd sit up nights wondering why you didn't call. I'd wonder if you were dead. I'd wonder if you were beaten up, bleeding on a subway, trying to hold your ribs in place. It hurt to care from five hundred miles away, for someone who couldn't care for himself. I'm glad that you straightened yourself out. Or I'm glad you almost did. I remember being in your car, driving back from Tiger Tail beach. My skin felt itchy from the salt. My feet were sticking out the window, pressed against the rear-view mirror. I think you were holding my hand. This was after you told me you wanted me to marry you. You never asked me to marry you, but you told me that's what you wanted. I should have expected that from you. But you always surprised me. I remember thinking that we could never get along for any reasonable length of time. You didn't want to leave Canada; I didn't want to leave the States. You wanted to backpack around Europe; I wanted to get a job, an apartment, some security. Vacationing at the tip of this peninsula seemed to be the only way we could meet. But even though my skin hissed from the salt and the sun, in that car with you I felt like we could go anywhere. I looked in my purse today and found a box of Swan Vestas matches. You bought them at the tobacco shop in the mall in Naples. You asked me to hold the box for you. I couldn't understand why you bothered to buy matches when you could get matchbooks anywhere, but I must admit that you looked good when you lit one of them. The box was so big. No American would want a matchbox that big. You always struck the match to the box three times before it would light. You made the art of lighting a match seem like a pleasure. I always liked the smell of sulphur. I'm glad you forgot that box in my purse. (Less)
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