| Current mood: | stretchy |
| Current music: | "DLZ" ~ TV on the Radio |
The Time Has Come!
Ahh! Stretch them typing fingers! It's been a long time! What can I say? I have had neither deep ponderings, keepings up with the news, nor interesting reading in the past month. Not to mention the insidious influence of Facebook. My perception of how many people check this thing has dwindled a bit, seeing as how Facebook can constantly update you as to the most recent puerile meanderings of your not-even-friendly associates, all at one location, with these nice software doohickeys to boot. It's enough barely-useful technology to drown someone in mediocrity.
If I'm coming off as a bit agitated (and I might be), it's because I have had thoughts brewing in the back of my head despite the onrush of other interests that have sapped my attention. They'd bubble up every once and a while, demanding to be listened to, and I'd say, "Hush now, I'm watching Merlin and being entertained. No time to be thinking." Thinking's not a very entertaining thing to do unless you have somebody around to think with, and the with part cannot be underestimated here. Not someone who's around but uninterested in thinking with you: this sort of belabored thinking just frustrates one and irritates the other. You have to have participation.
Sadly, I haven't had much participation from others, but this isn't their fault. It's actually mine, because I haven't been trying to think much either. There are a lot of glittering, shiny things to distract one from life and the business of living it. Little toys both corporeal and not, which serve to further distract more often than replicate.
If you've never heard the phrase "mediated living," I don't blame you. In fact if you search it you tend to get a lot of science-related results as opposed to anything close to what I'm getting on about. The gist is this: books, magazines, television, the Internet and social networking, film, even maybe plays and theater; these are all forms of mediated living. Essentially, living that is not done personally, by you, but through mediators. A mediator can be anything that replaces having a personal experience with something else a degree removed from that possible experience. At its very basic, storytelling itself is a form of mediated living. A good way to illustrate the concept is to compare building a house to building a house in The Sims.
I don't know why, but this has been bothering me for some time. Even what I'm doing right now is a form of mediated living in that I'm communicating with you through something other than face-to-face contact. That might be taking the concept too far (and it probably is), but you can see how it would be done. Unfortunately, like many things I've posted here, the idea is undeveloped in my head. It's originally from some anarchist ramblings on the Internet about how the powers that be use mediated living to control populations and keep them from achieving true anarchy. Like most things, the idea itself is fascinating, if not its implementation in its original context. Perhaps later I'll have something further to say on the subject.
Anyway, ignoring everything I've just posted, on to talking about books. I've stopped reading Gravity's Rainbow: the two weeks I spent away from the book have made it impossible for me to pick up again, and I've started to lose interest in the plot. Last I recall, Slothrop had escaped from P.I.S.C.E.S. and was doing some footwork to figure out how he was led there and just how much of a conspiracy surrounded his life, but hey, when you lose interest best not to fake it. In the interim, I picked up a Michael Chabon book called Gentlemen of the Road, which I heartily recommend. It's quick (208 pages) and leaves an impression, not like the fantasy Doorstoppers that seem so popular. Now a good, long book is a fine thing, but a good, short book is probably even better. One of those "quality over quantity" things. I don't excuse War and Peace from this criticism: the book becomes more of a philosophy of history essay as it goes on, and while I found it fascinating, I doubt many people do. Cut out the obnoxiously unnecessary philosophy bits out of the book and you'd cut it at least by a 100 pages.
Plus, Michael Chabon originally wanted to call the book "Jews with Swords." How can you pass that up? You still haven't read The Yiddish Policemen's Union, have you?
Anyway, I picked up The Master and Margarita today, finally intending to read it. It's a book by Mikhail Bulgakov (don't worry, that's not a name that you're supposed to recognize; I don't recognize it either) set in 1930s Moscow, in which Satan visits and has a grand old time. My impression from the first 40ish pages is very favorable: it's got elements of magical realism to it such as a cat trying to get on a streetcar and pay the fare, which, as the character chasing the cat remarks, no one seemed to think any of it ludicrous that the cat had money to pay or even that the cat was trying to pay. It's quite interesting in its take on Christianity too, especially as contrasted with the state atheism of the Soviet Union.
Let's see, what else about my mediated livings can I bring up? I saw Primer with my brother some weeks ago. It has the most realistic dialogue I've ever heard in a movie before, so realistic it's kinda hard to make out what some people are saying during group conversations. Also, great plot, best use of time travel I've ever seen. I recommend watching it if you get the chance.
That's all for now.
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 | 
 shazzbaa
2009-08-30 13:50
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...how on earth am I still logged in?
Anyways.
I think blogs count as mediated living if you're just sending your message out and pretending that someone else is reading it, whether they are or not, and people are happening upon it and feeling as though they are being spoken to.
It's not mediated living if you have a specific audience to whom you know you are writing, or specific people to whom you're communicating this information. Then it's basically a complicated, public sort of letter-writing
(Forgive me, I have a new grammar nazi friend who's a stickler for proper preposition use and it's been rubbing off on me).
This whole thing reminds me of a piece of art that I thought was stupid the first time I saw it, until I later had it explained to me. It was a photo, a sorta washed-out photo, of a famous photograph.
...THE HECK. You took a photo of a photo? How retarded.
But no, it was a comment on this very thing. Of how this is exactly how we see the whole world. How many people have even seen all the famous pieces of artwork we all easily recognise - or did we just see thumbnails of them in our history books in order to form our opinions? How many people have actually seen a house burn down, or a train crash, NOT on the news? Most of our view of the world is formed from looking at a photograph of a photograph.
I wish I could remember the name of the piece, because once I got it, I thought it was really cool.(Reply to this) (Thread) |
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