one social networking pond at a time for the antisocial tech dork. black as pitch. ferocious vixen with a litter of adorable kittens. growl.
memory of a fellow concert-goer who was shutter-, record-button happy.
it took too much trouble to take pictures of the audio fest.
i stood and listened. i still wondered how many blogged about the event and posted media. and how photos will jog your memory years after, when the memory itself becomes pliable, unreliable (references to Memento).
but the taste of the experience remains. is this an argument to disconnect for a quick bit and try to return to feeling the authenticity of the moment?
when art was there to be savored by human eyes and not frozen through a lens and shared and liked
when music was there to be listened to and savored with lids shut and not recorded and posted as bragging rights
My Internet lifeline is riddled with innumerable dead URLs: inactive email accounts, blogs begging for posts, photo sharing sites with a smattering of images, abandoned social networking profiles… survival of the stickiest Net venture for the peripatetic Netizen.
The buzzword is social and sharing, and both go against my wood grains.