(he couldn't figure out the blog)
(also he got half the following from me)
(also he got half the following from me)
Hey Wendy, I couldn't post this in the blog but will try to get registered for it or something. I don't know what the problem is but will email Andrew. I'll have Doug post my response under his account so everyone in our section can see it. See you tomorrow
What struck me as really wild about the video that we watched was the seemingly unaffected way the people on the radio spoke while memo listened in secretly. They seemed unquestioningly excited and enthusiastic about the prospect of connecting. Their discourse emulates the speech of hopeful language students endorsing pen pals or the internet; a sort of inebriation with the medium itself. Connecting is easy. Does it hurt? Nah, it just feels like a hot nail being driven into your wrist.
“Civilization advances by extending the number of operations which we can perform without thinking about them”.
Trauma is expropriated by economies of scale and left to exhale affect in the waves of high definition televisions and uncanny synchronicities.
Following the traumatic death of Memo’s father, Xerox, all events become subsumed by economic considerations. The significance of the death event that was significant to me in its overwhelming immediacy becomes perpetually deferred by diegetic subdivisions; the sweep of the love story, the waves framed on the beach, and of course the river flowing through it. Memo’s guilt is expunged by a simple transaction, a transaction that will continue as long as he logs hour after hour welding beams while strung out on blue wires and pretending to be a cute yellow robot. I guess time really does heal all wounds-but what of time? Do calculations and metrics act as aleatory diversions. Yes.
A story that would seemingly resonate now seems pigeon holed in an obscure archival vault of Trunode waiting to be discovered. Wait! Maybe the destruction of the dam will attract more attention to the situation and these stories will shout out in their obscure library, or not. If everything is being recorded who has time to watch and read what is not recorded. “I have never met one of my readers” Also Trunode is crazy because you cannot lie and therefore only can tell stories based on simple, accountable facts. What has narrative become? Nonfiction? Rudimentary biography? Nothing is nonfiction.
Also what of the Star Wars structural allusions?
Hey Wendy, I couldn't post this in the blog but will try to get registered for it or something. I don't know what the problem is but will email Andrew. I'll have Doug post my response under his account so everyone in our section can see it. See you tomorrow
What struck me as really wild about the video that we watched was the seemingly unaffected way the people on the radio spoke while memo listened in secretly. They seemed unquestioningly excited and enthusiastic about the prospect of connecting. Their discourse emulates the speech of hopeful language students endorsing pen pals or the internet; a sort of inebriation with the medium itself. Connecting is easy. Does it hurt? Nah, it just feels like a hot nail being driven into your wrist.
“Civilization advances by extending the number of operations which we can perform without thinking about them”.
Trauma is expropriated by economies of scale and left to exhale affect in the waves of high definition televisions and uncanny synchronicities.
Following the traumatic death of Memo’s father, Xerox, all events become subsumed by economic considerations. The significance of the death event that was significant to me in its overwhelming immediacy becomes perpetually deferred by diegetic subdivisions; the sweep of the love story, the waves framed on the beach, and of course the river flowing through it. Memo’s guilt is expunged by a simple transaction, a transaction that will continue as long as he logs hour after hour welding beams while strung out on blue wires and pretending to be a cute yellow robot. I guess time really does heal all wounds-but what of time? Do calculations and metrics act as aleatory diversions. Yes.
A story that would seemingly resonate now seems pigeon holed in an obscure archival vault of Trunode waiting to be discovered. Wait! Maybe the destruction of the dam will attract more attention to the situation and these stories will shout out in their obscure library, or not. If everything is being recorded who has time to watch and read what is not recorded. “I have never met one of my readers” Also Trunode is crazy because you cannot lie and therefore only can tell stories based on simple, accountable facts. What has narrative become? Nonfiction? Rudimentary biography? Nothing is nonfiction.
Also what of the Star Wars structural allusions? o9iokiu
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