2003-07-09 - 12:57 p.m.: ecto-cooler

i was thinking about culture the other day� how ideas that are born on the fringes� in *deviant* minds... often get sucked inward until they represent the *middle* or cultural norm. how does this work? it made me picture a sort of black hole, with a true middle that doesn't really exist in a place that we can point to, but continues, nevertheless, to draw everything else toward it to infinity.

because� it seems weird to think that there could exist A person, or A mind that represents the archetype of a particular culture, era, milieu. ridiculous, even! but then�there *has* to be a last person to... say� ask "why did the chicken cross the road?" you know, before the joke just puffs out of conversation. just like there had to be a first telling. i think. i mean� there is too much NEW culture for the old to stick around forever�it must die out� right?

well.. then i started thinking about how�presently, at least�jokes/music/words/fashions/stories (articles of style) are being recycled� resurrected from obscurity to take, once again, center stage. is it because we're getting dumb and unoriginal, or is does it follow a sort of natural life cycle? i mean� it makes sense. sort of a donut design, where things get sucked into the middle� then pulled back toward the outside (you know.. like people who still worship elvis?) to be (maybe, someday) circled back through another time.

maybe.

it doesn't really matter, of course� i mean� society will do what society does, and in different ways. and it happens on SO MANY different levels, different scales. i just wonder about things that disappear, really� where they go. are they being kept alive, somewhere, by someone? or are they just forgotten? it makes me believe a little more passionately in the power of words� pictures�. anything recorded, written down, saved� because if there *is* a life cycle to humanity� if ideas *do* follow a pattern of birth, death and renewal� then writing them down, snapping a photo� the surest way to guarantee an afterlife. maybe. for things with value, anyway.

the internet makes it easier and easier to do that. i wonder what that means.

yesterday was fun as hell, by the way. it was the first night of summer league, i got to play "captain" of the green team� AWESOME group of people� truly. we put up a good fight and learned a lot, got poured on, got psyched. i felt so weird being in charge� in a good way. it was just energizing� i mean� not in a "OH GOD I HAVE POWER, WOOHOO, OBEY MY COMMAND!" sort of way� just� i dunno. i felt like i was responsible for making people feel good about the team� or even for making them feel *responsible* for the team� empowering them to use their voices. their skills. something like that. like i had the power to open things up... possibilities, maybe. hmmm. i don't know if i did that or not�. but people seemed happy and excited to be there, and we did well.

afterwards� awesome conversations with lush about language, cognition�specifically whether or not the mind creates or adopts a sort of archetype on which to base perception�or conception�of objects, faces, names�. talked about the way computer "visual recognition" programs work, and if we use, maybe, a more complex (or simple, depending on how you look at it) version of that. talked about technology and laziness� if using technology took more or less work than using old or "outdated" labor methods�. or if you could even compare them (computer versus typewriter�which takes more energy/intelligence/effort to operate?) there were arguments in both directions� so interesting. there were other things, too�. talents/behavior patterns boiling down to essential genetic programs� disturbing how little control we have over our own actions� lots of questions that we knew we couldn't answer, but which are fun to talk about anyway.

then too much food and conversations stifled by noise. i felt bad for z� everyone was talking about ultimate the whole time� the players, statistics.. other teams.. the future of the game�. i think he felt a little left out. i tried starting up different conversations with him� but he's a very difficult person to talk to. i mean that in a good way. he doesn't do small talk, really� and you always get the sense that there is something deeper that you should say, something more honest, more interesting. but then he has this look to him that makes you think that there's no reason to say anything at all. he has a wise face. a beautiful face. anciently childlike. i felt loud and useless� i wish i could read minds.

no� i don't.

the rain last night made everything look clean.

i think it will be a good day.

inward...outward