Showing posts with label communication. Show all posts
Showing posts with label communication. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Digital Technology's Influence on the Way We Talk to and Think about Each Other


[The exchange below was born out of a discussion about whether or not our current American culture is primarily ironic. My friend Josiah crafted one of the two perspectives. You can follow him on Tumblr here.]


A: Digital technology (which is bar-none the most ascendant bundle of consumer goods out there), I'd offer, is more conducive to irony than sincerity. Most of the subcultures made possible by digital technology foster/encourage/require impulsive, hyperbolic language (e.g., the difference between friends and Facebook Friends) and communication. This both (1) garners attention (which is what every isolated individual, i.e. technology user, is after) in the midst of the rising tide of proliferating language and (2) precludes linguistic accuracy. What is irony but strategic linguistic inaccuracy, not saying what one means to serve an alterior purpose? And, yes, it trades in simulcra, not unmediated reality.

B: When you say the that mediation through digital communication technologies is more conducive to irony as opposed to upbuilding sincerity, I think that what maybe you should be saying is that in a network of communication where a person has multiple anonymous identities and can switch between them at will there is a leveraged incentive for acting out one’s lowest and most powerful impulses without the tempering factor of real world accountability (reputation). So that the tendency towards corrosion is not an inherent quality of the technology itself but of the developmental stage of that technology. In other words, that it could be changed, and probably will be, through the integrating of simulated communication with one real world person. So, that an effective reputation mechanism could dissipate that concentration of irony?

A: I must have spoken inarticulately somewhere along the way. You have interpreted my wariness re: digital technologies as being rooted in anonymity. I agree anonymity brings with it dangers (I agree with your formulation), specifically the ability to dissociate from a reputation and being ostracized by a group for poor behavior. (It also has potential—less frequently performed—positives, as when donors give charitably on the condition of anonymity.)  As to whether identities will become less flexible in the future as a technological corrective, I grant it could happen. Facebook strives to ensure you are a real person, just one, with a real name. Increasingly, web forums force you to identify yourself when commenting by signing in through Facebook. Administrators are empowered to keep things clean (although this can just remove the discussion a level, since, who watches the watchmen?). But, as a vocal faction of the the Reddit community made clear in the post-Violentacrez fallout, anonymity is seen as essential to the uniquely pure freedom inherent in the internet's freedom of speech. So, there's going to be push back to any attempt censorship.

The launching point for my wariness is not on the internet's Petri dish of vice. No, I'm more concerned with the way our interactions with and thinking about technology alters the way we interact with and think about people. I contend the devices/mediums tend to make us view others as being more interchangeable/less individually dignified or important. Starting with the cult of upgrades and updates (1.0, 2.0, 2.5, etc.), we are becoming accustomed to viewing what we want most as coming with expiration dates.

But that's innocuous (and not all that new—consumerism relies upon obsolescence) when compared to this: we are able to get what we want at all-time low prices. I can garner the attention of innumerable others easier than ever. Plus, I can walk away from an interaction more easily than ever. We relate On Demand. Textual (including old-fashioned pen and paper, I cede) exchanges offer much more power to the isolated writer and reader. I can respond if and when I want; you can read if and when you want. There are less stringent demands than if the exchange is vocal. This is easier, less confrontational, and so, naturally, preferable. How many people wish a happy B-day on Facebook instead of calling? I can fit a post into my schedule, but a phone call may involve what? 5 minutes at least? And who knows when I'll be ready for that. We are being conditioned by the ascendant modes of communication to be brief and uninvested.

Just like the creeping disintegration of sexual mores in light of technologies (i.e., contraceptives)--sex without the children and usually without diseases—we are able to get approval, acceptance, and interpersonal gratification without the hard work of relationship maintenance and discipline. Approval and acceptance available in digital forms are usually going to be ranked lower on the emotional intensity scale than those received in more physical forms (e.g., smiles, ink on paper written by a teacher, etc.), but they're still rank. That ranking, those blips on the pleasure graph, are completely and utterly necessary for human health, social creatures that we are. And if it's easier to count hits, Likes, retweets, etc. than to converse, challenge, and love--well, that's a new and powerful form of temptation. Temptation reveals what's already in the heart (which is where the techno-neutrality types stand such as yourself, I believe), but more temptation can skew the revelation. Give me an apple and I may not eat it because I'm not hungry at the time. But pile apples all around me and sooner or later I'll take a bite.

The amount and frequency of positive internet feedback can keep you from seeking offline feedback. (This tendency is similar to the damaging effects of pornography, specifically chronic masturbation leading to disinterest in copulation, even among married/involved humans.)

Some people are going to benefit from this feedback because they are marginalized in the 3-D world. That goes in the Pro side of the Pro/Con table. Acknowledging this proves me rational and not a doom-and-gloom Luddite. The larger, more "normal" majority of people, though, relies on and is going to increasingly rely on that feedback in lieu of committed 3-D world relationships and the intense pain they can occasion.

(Confession: I have a fundamental belief that capitalism needs to disintegrate us. Fractured, isolated people are inherently more needy. Needy people buy more goods.)

B: I don't think that you were inarticulate. But, I do think that the argument you are making is a type of literary argument that is attempting to establish a sort of empirical and scientific conclusion which makes some of the juice behind the way that you reach the conclusion elusive.  

Emphatically, I do not disagree with your conclusion, or at least the content of your conclusion, but I think that its more probable that the problem is not contingent upon any recent development.

Quick thoughts:

1. Why would you stop at a telephone call over a fb shout out? Then again, why stop at calling? Calls take slightly more effort but still are far less difficult than making a trip to be with that person, wouldn't it be an even more fraternal gesture to not just call the person on their birthday but make every conceivable effort to see that person and share your greetings face to face? Why does the telephone not meet the criteria? Or the telegraph, or the printing press, or the actual act of writing itself? I think that there is not a reasonable criteria that would give a satisfying answer to this question. Neither is there a necessary link between effort made in communication and the sense of the humanity of others. The attempt to solidify the link is an understandable leap but far too simplistic. For instance it discounts the instance of a liar who augments his powers through adopting the most effort heavy forms of communication to engender a sense of trust and affection but it is a mere set up for its exact opposite.

2. We are at the point where we each need to briefly summarize what we  believe to be the others argument. And then have the other critique that summarization. That way we can better get a grasp on what we're talking about.

A: QT1: The Facebook post, text, phone call, card, and personal visit provide a rough scale of investment. I usually think of personal investment as temporally measured, since time is our most personal and most common resource. (Giving time is a sacrifice. This segues into my contention about the temptation of solely/especially relating through digital technologies and its capitalizing on the typical pain-avoidance by which people live.) Why the scale is "rough" is because certain examples of posts, texts, calls, cards, etc. can be outside of their normal/average range of time-investment. For example, I could write you one hell of a thoughtful/time-intensive Facebook post and I could do nothing more than have my secretary sign a generic birthday card. In those instances, the post and card are flipped. So, here as elsewhere, accurate analysis of specific actions requires a survey of the context, not just a priori judgments about the quality of interactions.

Now, where you rejoined was here: because of the increased personal availability made possible by the internet, cell phones, etc., I can keep connections intact that would have otherwise dissolved. I can wish more people a happy birthday as a result of being notified by Facebook of their special day. Since I can afford a 30 seconds or less act, I can type those 13 characters. Without Facebook Friendships and Notifications, our contact would have been severed after, say, high school graduation.

It seems the debate is won or lost is on whether or not digital technologies encourage or inhibit relationships. This, in turn, relies upon the definition of relationship, and so transitions to an age-old quantity v. quality debate. If a relationship is a state of exchange between two people, then DTs encourages. If a relationship is a state of meaningful exchange between two people, then a good case can be made that it discourages. So, to win, I have to convince you that "meaningful" is a real and important category, not how I so happen to prefer relate to people. I think meaning is a product of human nature’s relation to the Real (which is shorthand for all existent beings). Basically, I need to convincingly argue that human needs are underserved by the types of brief transactional exchanges DTs best foster.

Note: I am fighting against both the position the DTs encourage relationships (a common position) and have no effect upon relationships (closer to yours, perhaps).

QT2: B’s brief (presumed) position - Digital technologies, like all artifacts, are morally inert. There is nothing uniquely corrosive about digital technologies. They are advancements of previous communication mediums that were designed to facilitate the same ends (e.g., transmitting information between people). Criticizing DTs without criticizing their analog forebearers is inconsistent. The telephone, telegram, cassette tape, written word, etc. are no more noble vehicles than smart phones, Twitter, etc. Preferences towards "old-fashioned" modes are prejudicial/nostalgic.

B: B's response to A's summary of B's position – Spot on, except that I think that we need to go even further than analog all the way to the deeper biological developments of language, gestures etc. which serve the similar end of making interpersonal communication as easy as possible (still not very!) and would therefore fall under your criticism. Also, I would not stress the relative de facto nobility of any medium of communication because such classification is based on the assumption that we are disagreeing about. Whether or not new mediums mostly cultivate new space for communication or cannibalize and change the old space.

A’s brief (presumed) position - Digital technology, which is the Titan of our age, is the sort of thing that gets inside of its users and alters them. Specifically, it changes the way in which its users think about and act towards other people. It does this by taking the users’ perception of others as dignified and uniquely important and rendering less powerful, which reinforces the latent tendency to treat others as interchangeable objects. This is not due to the new levels of anonymity that DT makes possible, but to the unprecedented ease of access to human to human communication and the unprecedented ease of the discontinuation of that human to human interaction. This ubiquity of access and interaction create an on demand market of relationship which follows the laws of all such markets and seeks to find the most satisfying interactions for the least possible investment. The cost benefit analysis of DT's average user highly favors the cheap-to-play-big-win-pay-out stakes of DT over traditional biological interface. Thus, inevitably, more and more of human interaction that would have normally taken place in a traditional high investment biological interface is now being mediated by low investment virtual realities and succumbing to its inherent limitations. Convenience is king and his decrees are as whimsical and as wise as any fatuous toddler on a tooth decimating post-Halloween bender. There is a necessary inverse link between the value of an action and the level of that action's ease: the easier the thing the less valuable. Getting to be in relationship with other humans is now easier than ever, and therefore, in a real way, it is becoming less valued.

A: I can’t quibble with your summation of my position. At least now we can say we understand each other.

Digital technologies are changing the way we interact with and think about other human beings. These changes tend to be dissipative given the technology's ease of use and built-in curtailing of content (e.g., max character limits, tiny keyboards, etc.). With increased access to others, both from a duration standpoint (always being available to communication) and a population standpoint (having ever-widening social nets), there is a decreased need to commit or invest in friendship as traditionally conceived. Traditional friendship is built on intimacy.  Intimacy involves knowledge of the other through which both meaningful acceptance of the other and as compassionate guidance takes place. DTs are not conducive to more than trivial knowledge of others or rarely facilitate correction (since correction in public makes the corrector look like a jerk).

Intimate contact is being crowded out by superficial contact. Intimacy, however, is a core human need. DTs supplement our relational diets like sugar supplements our bodily diets. It is harmless when used as a treat or a dessert, but it’s not harmless when used as the main course. People can feel more connected without nourishing friendships because of the volume of DT-based feedback.

Artifacts, I contend, are not created equal. Some are sloped, which is to say especially conducive to moral or immoral behavior. For instance, a graham cracker is not going to be used for murder as successfully as a loaded gun. While it is not the gun's fault, more graham crackers and less guns in the world would dampen murder rates.

I do not think the blame inheres in the technologies. The fault lies in us. But the environment shapes/limits our options. This is how artifacts can corral their users. Our environment is saturated with tools that foster brief, superficial exchanges between people. Their prevalence is unique in the history of technology. We have had phones but not phones in our pockets. We could send morse code but we didn't spend our days with our hands on a straight key (the thing that taps the code out according to Wikipedia). We could send letters but rarely had pen and paper or typewriter splayed out before us. Older Technologies, like DTs, dissociated agency of the writer/reader capturing information and being a courier. Unlike OTs, DTs dissociate even further. Previously, if I wanted to communicate, I needed to direct it to a specific person/group. Now, I can announce myself into the open auditorium of the internet. While this boosts our expressive outlets, it also allows us to find out about others without asking questions. We can fool ourselves into relational knowledge by the simulcra of statuses, for instance. Unlike DTs, however, older technologies required more intentional action from the communicators.

I submit the more accidental nature of our communication causes more superficial exchanges and, thereby, degrades the notion of friendship or other relationships. Unfortunately for us, changed concepts don't change our nature. New norms of relating don't change human requirements. Mercifully and profitably, DTs have an answer for our unmet needs: meeting other requirements. Humans are also knowledge-seekers. DTs satiate, whet, and satiate again our natural curiosity so effectively we are less apt to notice other, neglected needs.

B: The ways that we talk to each other are continually developing. This development is part of the criteria which contributes to the outline of a still new generation of developments. This is not a new process and the current phase is not unusually different from the previous phase. The economy of communication is not mercantile. There is not a set amount of space that new communication mediums have to fight for, nor is there a set amount of mental bandwidth in which ways of communicating have to be crammed. We live in a complex ecosystem of highly mutable communication styles and mediums. Adding new more accidental modes of communication does not reduce one's capacity to enter into deeper forms but adds texture dimension and accessibility. Gestural communication cannot supplant speech because it occupies another realms. And, moreover, in cases where it it required, gestures can bear the weight of far more than what one would initially believe.

[An irony: this debate over the side-effects of DTs has taken place primarily via email. This is proof that DTs do not necessitate low-quality exchanges. Most email, as with texting, however, is short/micro-form. What the participants bring to the exchange is a factor in the results.]

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Overheard at a Park

(For a newer draft of this story, click here.)

Parking Lot

[Doors slamming]

“The sun!”

“Yep.”

“What a great day!”

“Yeah, really. It’s good to be outside. Feels like it’s been a year since it was warm enough to get out.”

[Audible deep-breathing]

“I heard it’s going to rain on Friday.”

“April showers bring May flowers.”

“Uh-huh.”

Basketball Court

[Ball bouncing]

 “You got nothin!”

[Sneaker squeaking]

“Go on!... Get that weak stuff outta here!”

 [Ball bouncing]

 [Metalic clang]

“I told ya son! Nothin!”

“Would you shut up already, man?!”

“What? I was just havin a little fun. Chill. It’s just a game dude.”

[Ball bouncing]

“Whatever.”

[Ball bouncing]

“Get ready, fool! Here it comes! You ready for it?”

[Ball bouncing]

[Grunting]

[Swish]

“Hah ha! 20-12! That’s game, sucker.”

“I said shut the fuck up, man! Just get over it already.”

Park Bench

“Such language. In public no less. There’s children around for Pete’s sake.”

“Oh come on now, Ruth. They’re just having a little fun.”

“A foul mouth is no fun at all. ‘A fool’s mouth is his undoing.’”

“Here we go…”

“What? You don’t agree?”

Public Restroom

“Guys, guys! seriously shut up! They’re going to hear us.”

[Suppressed laughing]

“Go on, dude. Do it already.”

“I will. I will. Just gimme some space, alright? Back up wouldya?”

“He’s not gonna.”

“Nah. Let’s leave em.”

“Just gimme a second, willya? Just give it to me already. Who’s gotta light?”

[Denim rustling]

“Give to me. I’ll do it… So I’ll light it and then we all walk outta here very casual in different directions one after the other. We’ve got probably like 15 seconds. We’ll keep walking till it goes and then we’ll take off like in different directions.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t care.”

“Why are we doing this, again?”

“Shut up, Tim. Does it matter? Jeez. Calm down.”

Picnic Table

[Birds chirping]

“Who do you think you are?”

“What? You mean like rhetorically?”

“No. Literally. Who do you think you are?”

“Uh…”

“Don’t you know?”

“Not exactly, no.”

[Silence]

“ I’m Ted.”

“What?... That’s it? You can’t be serious, Ted.”

“Well, who are you smart guy?”

“I read the other day that you are what you do. Makes sense to me.”

“Where’d you read that?”

“An article about Heidegger. Martin. There’s a uh new book coming about him or something. Maybe a new 
translation.”

“Wasn’t he a Nazi?”

“He supported the nationalist party way back when, but that’s beside the point.”

“Yeah. So ‘you are what you do’ huh? Sounds American, not German.  Didn’t Batman say that in the Dark 
Knight? Or was it Batman begins? Wait… it was Rachael. She sorta scolded him with it.  But uh yeah if it’s true… I um guess that makes you raising broad questions.”

 “Um, no. There’s—”

“Sounds Native American. Raising Broad Questions.”

[Trees rustling.]

“...Okay. As I was saying… there’s more to it of course than what you’re doing at the moment the question 
was asked. Is asked.”

“So, what is it? Like everything you’ve done? Ever? That’s who you are?”

“That’s what I think he was saying. Said.”

“Weak.”

“Less weak than ‘Ted’.”

“Well I’m sorry if I didn’t have it all formulated going into it. You definitely caught me off guard. It’s a tough 
question. It’s not like I haven’t given it any thought. It seems like the kind of question that’s gonna take more than a sentence or two.”

“Yeah.”

[Soda slurping]

“I disagree, though, with the idea of the definition, that you are what you do.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s uh arbitrary. Like names are. The name thing was a joke by the way. Of course I’m not just Ted and you’re not just raising questions and all the other acts you’ve done… They aren’t irrelevant, just inadequate.”

[Dog barking. Owner scolding.]

“Arbitrary? Aren’t all definitions arbitrary kinda by definition? I mean, they’re all line-drawing? That’s what 
they do. They distinguish something from its surroundings. Outline it. Set it apart. I don’t think that’s reason to stop defining, though.”

“Yeah but it doesn’t have to be arbitrary. Sometimes it fits. It’s um not fitting, but uh…well, yeah, fitting’s fine. Because some things are simple and definitions can outline simple stuff.”

“So a person’s identity is complex. Does that mean we can’t describe it? Plenty is complex.”

“You didn’t say ‘describe’. You asked me who I was. That’s like all of me, right? That’s goin to take more than a description. Height, weight, and hair color is a description. Who I am is like that and a whole bunch of other stuff, like all these roles I have and where I’ve been and where I’d like to go and on and on.”

“Well, I don’t see it’s any more arbitrary than any other definition. That’s how we think. Definitions make stuff intelligible. They’re like the raw materials we build with.”

“It’s all um behaviorist, don’t you think? Actions—what you do—are done out there in the world right? so your identity is in large part public er could be public, visible. Doesn’t that strike you as a little…reductive?”

[Metal scraping. Child’s crying. Mother reassuring.]

“Poor girl.”

“Yeah, she’s gonna have some scabs after that. At least she’s got a helmet.”

“Yeah. Moms like those.”

“Reductive you were saying…”

“Right. That doesn’t take into account the private goings-on. I mean, that’s a big part of it, who you are. What’s not seen or acted on at all, directly, what’s just inside you. Not like secrets or something, I mean like everything that goes unseen and unsaid… It’s not like you’re ‘doing’ any of those things and yet they are you or uh a part of you.”

 “Eh. I don’t know. What you do is like what you’re most invested in. You actually making it happen, bringing it into existence. Every action is basically creation. That’s a big deal, creating. So a by-prduct of all of this creating is you make yourself, too. And I don’t think he was pushing for something explicit, like formulated into some sort of all-encompassing proposition. Private goings-on…those are actions, too, so they’d be included.”

“They aren’t all actions, what’s internal. Some of them are like um states or modes. Like a mood. A mood isn’t an action. You don’t ‘do’ happy or sad or pissed or whatever. Those have still got to be a part of you though. So you’re—we are—actions and states...at least”

“I think we’re—”

“And bodies, too. We are embodied and we don’t ‘do’ our bodies. At least I don’t”

“Har har. Stay on topic.”

“Well there’s at least two significant things, truths, ‘you are what you do’ doesn’t take into account.”

“We’ve a bunch of uninteresting ‘truths’ or ‘facts’ about us, too. You want those in your definition? You want to include the brand of shoes you wore in fifth grade or the um number of teeth you’ve had pulled? Come on. To include anything that could be predicated of you for your whole life is a uh bit silly, don’t you think?”

“No. Being is rich, Rob. I’m not ready to take a machete to it for the sake of discussion.”

“Hmph.”

[Birds chirping]

“Well, I think he Heidegger was talking about something more fundamental than what you’re getting at. 
Essence, ya know? Like the basic ontologically stuff that everything else cakes on top of. I hear what you’re saying, but uh…you’re forfeiting the game.”

“What game is that?”

“The game of making sense of the world and life. The game of flexing your brain. The whole philosophical enterprise.”

[Snickering] “That’s a bit of an overstatement.”

“No, Ted, I don’t think it is. I mean to admit that personal identity is unknowable, not just unknown, but totally unknowable because the list would be too long or something—which is what  you’ve been saying, right?—where does that sort of thinking end? I can’t imagine it’s limited to this one question.”

“I didn’t say it was unknowable. Just not that easy. It requires more subtlety.”

“Subtlety. Okay. So if I give you, what? a week? You’ll have a contrary formulation, some other proposition to state who we are?”

“Well shit, Rob. I don’t have a timetable for you. I don’t know if I’d ever be up to the task. I’m not sure I’m that smart.”

“Just smart enough to be a critic.”

“Jeez I had no idea I’d burst such a bubble being honest.”

“Yeah…well… You have to admit it’s an important issue, seriously crucial. I sure as hell would like to know and… Forget it.”

[Trees rustling]

[Soda slurping]

Playground

[Metallic creaking]

 “Higher!”

[Cloth fluttering]

“Higher, daddy! Higher!”

[Metallic creaking]

“If I push you any higher, you’re going to flip over the bar, crazy girl.”

[Giggling] “I don’t care! Higher! Higher!”

***
[Pebbles pattering]

“Woah!”

[Thud]

“I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“I want off! Let me off!”

[Children laughing]

[Pebbles pattering]

“Faster! Faster!”

 “Stop it! I want to get off!”

“Aaaaaaaheeeee!”

[Thud]

“Faster!”

[Pebbles pattering]

Paved trail

“Hello? Can you hear me? Cheryl? Yeah I’m sorry I’m not good with this earpiece thing yet. Hello?”

[Wheels grinding]

“Okay. Good. I swear this is like only the second time I’ve used it. I’ve had it for like a year. I always forget about it. But yes, I’ve been fine. Maddie’s been a little cranky today. I thought I’d get out and take her for a walk.”

[Wheels grinding]

“Oh yeah. Really nice out. Have to enjoy it while it lasts. I think the weatherman said it would rain tomorrow morning.”

[Wheels grinding]

“Uh…not much. I uh had some time for myself on Tuesday. Greg was sweet and took a half-day just ‘cause. I hadn’t been alone in months it seems like.”

[Woman sneezing.]

“Bleh. Excuse me. Spring has sprung I guess. What’d you say, though?”

[Wheels grinding]

“Nothing big. I went to this bookshop down the street. I browsed a little but I couldn’t get into anything, you know? I just sat down in this big cushy armchair and kinda watched people go by. I zoned out. Do you ever do that, like just kinda…float?”

[Children laughing distantly]

“I just stared out the storefront windows and like lost it. It sorta scared me, my lack of uh interest. I didn’t cry or anything but I was so exhausted. I had a hard time getting up. I wanted to go home but I didn’t at the same time. I don’t know.”

[Child’s babbling]

“That’s a squirrel, Maddie. Skwir-rul. Skwir-rul.”

[Wheels griding]

“No, Cheryl. I’m fine. Nothing big. Things with Greg have been a little uh…lifeless lately. Maybe it’s just me, though. I don’t know. It’s just like kinda like an office or something at home. Like a workplace atmosphere I think. We kinda go through the motions and exchange pleasantries, ‘Mornin’ Sam.’ ‘Mornin’ Frank.’ water-cooler type stuff, but we like don’t really talk anymore. It’s like everything’s been said, I don’t even know what I could offer at this point really, I feel like I’m regressing back to like toddlerhood. But yes, we don’t really talk and now we kinda just have to do now, like there’s nothing left to say so we just run these laps every day. I’m just very tired and overly—”

[Birds chirping]

“What? No. I don’t know. A few weeks.”

***
 “So.”

[Shoe scuffing]

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“Yeah. I’ve got a younger brother. He’s twelve.”

“That’s nice. Do you two get along?”

“Sorta but he’s weird. What about you?”

“Nope. I’m an only child.”

“Lucky.”

“I guess.”

[Trees rustling]

“It’s not all that lucky.”

“How’s that? I’d think it’d be the best. You don’t have to watch anybody whenever your parents want to go out. That’s a total drain. Plus like when I’m around the house I’m like bothered all the freakin time. But I can’t go out whenever I want to because of Donny—my brother’s Donny. And my brother’s into this like fantasy video game type thing, not just into but like absolutely um absorbed like united with it. He’s like nuts about it. All of his friends run home from school and play it together online, you know, in their own rooms, and like scream at each other into these headset things. Every day he throws a total fit about only getting like three hours to play it every day, which they don’t keep track of at all, BTW. It’s a big hassle because he’s either screaming about the game or screaming about not being able to play the game. Plus he does this super annoying thing where he like doesn’t flush the toilet. Seriously ever. We share a bathroom and the kid never flushes the freakin toilet. He’s twelve. He knows how it works in there. But he’s in such a rush to get back to the game because there’s apparently no like ‘pause’ or anything and whenever you’re away people can come up to you and beat you or take your points or magic potion or whatever it is they take. It’s a constant headache around the house. We share the bathroom and I don’t even go in there anymore. I use my parents’, which they aren’t too happy about of course because you know, it’s theirs or whatever and ‘I’ve got my own’, which I don’t though really because mine is full of little brother mess.”

“Wow. That stinks.”

“Yeah.”

[Trees rustling]

“I guess when you put it that way its got its drawbacks. But it keeps things interesting, you know. Never a dull moment at least.”

“I’d rather have a dull moment or two. It’s a real hassle.”

“I’ve had plenty of those. They’re nothing you’d be interested in. I bet your brother likes you and I bet you help keep him in line like a big sister does. That’s a good thing to do. I just sit in a dark room on a computer listening to music and wishing something would happen.”

“Aw. Well, hey, something did happen!”

“Huh?”

“You’re at the park with me. Duh.”

“Oh. Yeah. That’s something all right.”

“I’m glad we’re at the park.”

“Yeah me too.”

[Distant yelling]

“I’m sorta surprised I asked you.”

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never done that before. I’m shy.”

“That’s sweet.”

 “Thanks for coming.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

[Dog barking]

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Overheard at a Hotel

(For a newer draft of this story, click here.)

Lobby

“Do you have a bellhop?”

“No ma’am, I don’t believe we do.”

“Believe? What do you mean believe? Either you do or you don’t. Ugh... Isn’t there anyone who can help me with my bags?”

“Where’s your husband?”

***

“Look. I’m going to be a little late to the meeting.”

[Silence]

“Yes. I know. I know it’s a very important meeting.”

[Silence]

“A half-an-hour, tops.”

[Silence]

“There’s nothing I can do about it! It wasn’t my fault. Tell them about the weather. They have to understand. I’m sure they’ve been on a plane once or twice. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

[Silence]

“Look, I need—I need to go. I’ll call you when I’m close. You can stall them. Just tell them about the storm.”

***

“Wow!”

“Look at that lamp, mom!”

“It’s called a chandelier, honey.”

“Chandelier.”

“Yes. Those used be to lit with candles. Can you imagine?”

“How’d they light them?”

“I haven’t a clue.”

Staff Lounge

“Phew! Sure is hot out there.”

“Yep. It’s a hot one.”

“D’ya hear ‘bout that guy who crashed his car into that jewelry store down on twenty-second?”

“Yeah. Dumb bastard smashed his car up so bad he couldn’t make a getaway.”

“People are gettin’ bolder and bolder.”

“Yep. Crazy times.”

“No joke.”

“If I was goin’ to rob a jewelry store, I wouldn’t do it in a…what was it? a Kia?”

“Hyundai.”

“I wouldn’t go bashing my Hyundai into a storefront. Max’s got toys with more metal in ‘em.”

“That’s the way the world’s goin’. Cheaper and cheaper. Everything is disposable.”

“And still nobody can keep up. People gotta try robbin’ jewelry stores with foreign-made cars.”

“That’s the truth.”

“But me, I’d do it in winter. Too hot to do anything out there now. I might faint runnin’ after the jeweler this time of year, heh heh.”

“You said it.”

Bar

“We were sitting in her car. The silence was awful. I was staring out of the windshield at this streetlamp, blurring my vision... trying to see those circles you see around lights. She was looking down, probably at the shifter or something. What could I say? I didn't want to say anything. I just spent an hour going back and forth with her. My throat was scratchy. I was done. Sometimes, you know, you talk so damn much you can't keep a thing straight anymore. [Gulp] I can't at least. Your emotions spin you all around and you're about to fall flat down. Anyways, that was it man. Game over.”

“That's rough, man. I don't get people sometimes. It's like, haven't you ever done anything wrong? Give it a rest and let a guy off the hook.”

[Gulp] “Seriously.” [Gulp]

“Yeah. I mean I don't go around startin' shit all the time, throwing people's mistakes in their faces. That's messed up. And after everything you went through with her...[Sip] I mean, you coulda—shoulda—cut ties a long time before. Remember that thing with your check book? What the hell.”

“Really. There’s just not enough slack being cut around here. I’m no prince, but I loved her as best I could. That’s not enough though…In the end, I guess. It’s like… Hell. [Gulp] I don’t know. I probably deserved it. What can you do? Some people just won’t accept you. I accepted her. I let things go eventually. She didn’t want to let it go, though. She clung to it. She liked having it around. It kept me pretty honest most of the time—her uh…memory, resentment. I’d think before I said anything, ‘Will this get me in trouble?’ I’d literally think those words. [Gulp] But, it didn’t fix it. There’d be a time where I wouldn’t think that, get caught off guard, like a reflex. It was like a reflex. You get poked and you turn and swat before you even know what happened. Before you can even think of what to do let alone will it get a guy in trouble. Those are the times that undid us. And [Gulp] she wouldn’t let it go.”

“If she won’t let it go, she can have you under her thumb. You know that. It’s for the best, John. It really is.”

“I guess. [Gulp] I just hate how quickly she’s gonna be fine. You have to admit she’s pretty.”

“It’s the pretty ones you can’t afford to get tangled up with.”

***

“The closest? I don't know. I guess it was this one time. My “friends” and I—we weren’t really friends—were out way late one night, two a.m. or something. I was hanging back, like usual—I never liked destruction. It's not like I had respect for the law. I just didn't like breaking other people's stuff for the fun of it. I didn’t think it was fun. It scared me, but that’s what they wanted to do. Two other guys were up in front of us, this other guy was back with me. The two up front, though, are starting to get like a bit riled up. You know how it goes. “No you won't.” “Yes I will.” “No way.” “I will!” So the one guy turns around and tells Tommy and I, “Start running.” Well, I'm already skiddish as it is. It was way past curfew and we looked suspicious as hell, one of us with a bat and everything. I don't ask any questions. I just start running in the opposite direction.”

“What happened?”

“I'm getting to it. Anyway, I had to turn around and go back.”

“Why?”

“Because Tommy couldn't run. He twisted his ankle in football practice earlier in the week. He was hobbling around. I don't know why he was even with us. I don't know why I was there. But whatever. I put my arm under his, hooked him like under his pit, and helped him pick up the pace. Then I hear this crash behind us. The sound of broken glass and this car alarm starts blaring. Tommy yells something like, “Oh crap!” and kind of laughs. My heart's pounding. The other two guys run past us. And then, no joke, this cruiser comes around the corner.”

“No shit! What'd you do?”

“I about died on the spot. My heart was thumping and I like was filled with adrenaline. I drug Tommy probably thirty feet behind some bushes. We just squatted there. I was panting like crazy and looking through the branches and the cops rolled right on by.”

“You mean they didn't see you?”

“No. I don't think they even heard the alarm. Must’ve had the radio up loud.”

“That's not a close-call, dude.”

Restaurant

“She looks at me and completely, soberly expects me to do it. To get down on my knees and do it. Like I'm not wearing dress pants. Like it wasn't raining a half-an-hour ago. I was practically a grown man. That's little sisters for you, though.”

“So, did you do it?”

“Sure I did it. You should have seen her. Innocence incarnate. How can you say no to that? She'd have muddied up her princess dress if the table was turned.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“How should I know? Probably. I don't care. She had a good laugh. My mom was pissed about the pants though when I came back in, till I told her.”

***

“How’re things, Danny?”

“I can’t complain.”

“I suppose I could complain, but what the use?”

“How’s the prime rib here?”

“Passable. On the fatty side if you ask me. I usually go for a plain old hamburger. The price is right.”

“Mhm.”

“Can I start you off with anything to drink? Coke, diet Coke, Sprite?”

“I get an hour for lunch. I’ll have a Budweiser.”

“And you?”

“Water’s fine.”

“I’ll bring those right out for you.”

“Water, huh? Watching your figure?”

“I drank too much, Tom. You know that.”

“It’s all relative.”

“No.”

“Okay…So…uh…”

“One Bud and one water.”

“Thanks.”

“How long’s it been, Danny?” [Gulp]

“Four or five years at least.” [Sip]

“Where’s the time go?”

[Silence]

“Something wrong, Danny?”

“No. Nothing. I’m waiting to hear why you called me up for lunch out of the blue.”

[Gulp] “Why? Does an old friend need a reason, heh?”

“Tom, cut the crap. I’m a busy man now. What’s the meaning of this?”

Elevator

[Mechanical hum]

“Eight please”

“Oh. Right.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

[Mechanical hum]

[Electrical ding]

Room 805

“I miss you, too. I hate life on the road.”

[Silence]

“It’s been fine so far. I haven’t heard a thing I haven’t heard before, honest. The speakers avoid saying anything concrete.”

[Silence]

“A few. I met this one guy from Peoria. We might be able to do a little uh… cross-pollination in the future. Nothing definite, though.”

[Silence]

“Oh, jeez. It was awful. The smallest, driest turkey sandwich you’ve ever eaten. It was like chewing through a new sponge. What about you? How was your day?”

[Silence]

“Good good. Welp, I oughta get going. Have a red-eye to catch in a few hours.”

[Silence]

“Uh-huh. Love you, too. See you soon…. Uh-huh… Bye bye.”

Elevator

[Mechanical hum]

“…hear me?”

[Mechanical hum]

“I said I’m in an elevator. Elevator. Look. I’ll call you back in a second.”

[Mechanical hum]

“Hello? I said I’ll call you back.”

[Electrical ding]

Room 1202

[Vacuum sounds]

“I don’t think I can do this much longer, Suzy.”

“Why d’ya say that? Something wrong?”

“Yeah. My back’s killing me with all of this bending over. I’m not good for much by the time I get home. ”

“Do you have a heating pad?”

[Fluffing]

“Yeah, but there isn’t an extension cord long enough. I’ve got so much to do around the house still.”

“I know how that is.”

[Spraying]

“But more than that it’s people’s looks. Not so much the guests. They hardly even look at you, unless you go knocking before they aren’t ready… But Doug and that one short guy at the front desk, the blonde one. They are so damn… smug.”

“Ya gotta toughen up, Jane.”

[Running water]

“What for? So I can stay here and let people think I’m a dumb mule?”

“What’re you gonna do otherwise?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

[Flush]

“Jane. You can’t quit. You and Jeff need the money.”

[Transition to Room 1203]

[Rustling]

“I know, I know. But that’s not all we need and I’m sore and I’m tired of giving myself up for a little paycheck and a lot of grief. These people around here think that because you got your name sewn on your shirt they own you or are better than you or whatever. The idea that I have to clean up a spilled bag of some jerk’s popcorn because he’s the boss and has other things to do… it drives me mad. Clean up after your damn self, ya know? I’m here to clean up customers’ messes not his. And that’s not the half of it. That’s just the latest. It’s a whole bunch of things. [Pause] I don’t think I can hold out much longer.”

“You’re young and you aren’t used to this. You’re still kinda new. But I’ve been at this since you were in elementary school and I know a thing or two about what it can do to ya, the aches and pains and everything else. You don’t see it now, but I’m telling you that’s pride talking in you and there’s nothing more dangerous than pride. It’ll ruin you because that’s what gives those people’s looks their power to hurt you. [Pause] I don’t mean that in a mean way of course. I’m not trying to cross any lines, but it’s the truth and I haveta come out and say it.”

“Pride? More like self-respect. I won’t let people walk on me. I’m better than that.”

“If you’d let that line of thinking go, you’d be a lot better off, Kristen. Thinking your better makes you feel worse when you do what we do.”

[Vacuum sounds]

Elevator

[Mechanical hum]

“In town for business?”

“What? Oh. Yes. A conference.”

“Sounds nice. I’m here to have a little fun. A little getaway.”

“Mhm.”

[Mechanical hum]

“Fifteenth floor, eh? Me, too.”

“Mhm.”

[Mechanical hum]

“I…uh. What room are you in? Maybe we could grab a drink latter or something. Just a bite to eat maybe. Have you been to the restaurant here? Good fries. You like fries?”

“Oh, no thank you. I’m fine.”

[Mechanical hum]

“You sure? Just a drink. No strings attached or anything.”

“No, no. Thank you, though.”

[Electrical ding]

Room 1504

“I can't put it into words, baby. You just make me so happy.”

“Aw, sweetie, you make me happy, too.”

“It's like that feeling you got when you were a kid and you were going to go on vacation. You know how you got all excited and ran around the house singing songs about it the night before? You are just… beside yourself in this child-like awe because where you’re headed is way better than where you are. That's how I feel leaving work to come see you. You should see me. I practically run to the car.”

“Aw, baby, you're so great. I'm glad I make you happy. It's all I want to do.”

“Well you do a great job at it, honey.”

“Thanks, hun. You’re pretty good yourself.”

“I’m so glad you came. This is fun, isn’t it? A couple of jet-setters you and I. I told you it’d be a good time. It’s a neat town. The place isn’t so hot but—“

“No, no. It’s fine. It’s a nice place. Any place with room service is a nice place.”

“If that’s all it takes, there’ll be plenty more nice places in your future.”

[Snicker]

[Kissing sounds]

Elevator

[Mechanical hum]

“Hot outside.”

“Yes it is.”

[Mechanical hum]

“Good day to take a dip.”

“That’s a good idea… maybe I’ll see you there later?”

“Maybe.”

[Electrical ding]

“My name’s Brad.”

“Eve.”

“Hope to see you there, Eve.”

Room 2216

[Zipping]

“Wait a minute. Just wait a minute. What’re you doing?”

“I’m leaving, Robert.”

“Wait, wait, wait. Just like that? Hold on a second.”
“I will not!”

“I said hold on a second! Let’s talk about this like adults, okay?”

“No. The time for talking is long gone.”

[Footsteps]

“Where are you going?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Like Hell it doesn’t! That’s my luggage you’re stuffing full there.”

[Laugh] “Don’t worry. I’ll ship it back to you as soon as I can!”

“That’s not what I…meant. I mean… Would you please just hold still?”

[Zipping]

“What is this all about? Cut the drama, okay? Look… I—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Don’t say it. I don’t believe you.”

“I love you! I love you love you love you! And it’s not my fault! How in the Hell was I supposed to know? You take everything so damned personally. Aren’t I good to you? I swear I don’t get you. I mean, this is unreal. Look at this! Look at what you’re doing. We just got here for Christ’s sake! We’ve got dinner reservations and tickets for the show tomorrow. Let’s just try to have a nice time. Calm down! Would you please?”

“I never loved you! Not for a minute! You were a phase. A transition! A little fling! I knew that from the start! I just used you!”

“Transition? Oh come on! Transition? Please. That how you want to play, huh? TRANSITION. That's all you're ever going to have! A series of transitions! Well, I have news for you: you're going to wake up one morning and the series is going to be complete. And you're going to have 40 miserable years to reflect on it! You aren't going to be a pretty face forever. That upper lip of yours is getting thinner and those eyes… they are starting to look a little weary. The make-up’s starting to flake around those lines baby! One of these days you’re gonna to jump and there’s gonna be nothing to land on.”

“At least I had a pretty face, you dog! I took pity on you. You're never gonna to get with anyone better. All you’ve got is money and an empty head. This was it: the one time you didn't have to pay anyone or keep your eyes closed! Remember it.”

“You should have paid me to put up with you. All the headaches and the phone calls…absolutely pathetic. You were awfully attached to a transition. I’m glad, ya know it? I’m glad it’s over! You’re more trouble than you’re worth!”

“And you’re worthless!”

[Door slam]

Monday, June 22, 2009

Defense

June 16, 2009

2: If I may be blunt--and I think I may--I am tired of speculation. Specifically, I am tired of your speculation. I am tired of all of your tedious refrains from living, which is to say I am tired of everything your write. It is to no great purpose. It has no impact on anyone outside of yourself, and the only impact it has on yourself is to further alienate you from your life or to further entrench you in your prejudices.
We normally consider people who talk to themselves frequently to be crazy. What significant difference is there between talking to one's self and writing to one's self? There is none. Both are broken forms of communication by way of their requiring an insufficient number of parties to communicate. Sane people do not wear both hats, my good man.
1: You certainly may be blunt. Candor is essential to all friendships and I know your intentions are always friendly. I hesitate to explain myself for fear I will only be robbing you further of your opportunity to sleep--as tired as you are--but you seem to have enough energy to criticize. Begging your apology in advance should I keep you up past your bedtime, I will take up my own defense.
I grant you that my writing does not have a great impact, but that is not my desired effect. True, perhaps in my weaker moments, I want to be recognized for what I say, but that is not the greatest reason why I write. I am confused about so many things. I find it helpful to write in order to clarify my thinking. Even if the clarification only involves delineating what I do not know, I think this is good for my character. If nothing else, it improves my state of mind, calming me down from the frustration that flows from one's own lamentable ignorance.
At other times, when I estimate I have an approximation of truth somewhere in my consciousness, I write it down as well. It is a good thing to share what one has in abundance, provided that the shared good is really good. The truth is one such good. I have a superabundance of thoughts and observations that are candidates for truth. Isn't it good of me, then, to share?
In the event that the truth goes unseen, as a result of my scant readership, I do not think the exercise a complete waste. A beautiful thing about the truth is that its being known does not alter it in any way. The truth abides, with or without you. To that extent, I can do it no harm--by lying or by refraining from speaking the truth--or benefit--by speaking the truth or refraining to lie. The truth about truth is a great relief, is it not?
If the truth remains the same regardless of its being known, what good is it to propagate the truth? Oh, what a deftly formed question! I have now introduced ethics into this epistemological excursion. "It is good for the individual to know the truth." A simple proposition, wouldn't you say? It is by that proposition that I attribute all justification for my communication, even if it is solely with myself.
Thank you for your patience, I promise I am nearly done. You had mentioned something about alienation. I am taking myself away from my life by writing and thinking as I do, you think? Does that mean that life ought not to involve language and thought? No--you couldn't mean that. Is it possible to think and write too much, to then create a second life inside your mind while neglecting your first one? Oh, perhaps. Have I achieved that level of intellectualism? I think not! I spend much more of my time acting and even if my mind stays active during activity, I'd hardly say I am alienating myself from my life. Is there not always a voice carrying on in your head? If it's written down, its called stream of consciousness. You cannot contend that simply because my stream flows to different areas--or at a different rate--than yours that my stream is flowing off a cliff. That would be a prejudicial assessment, don't you think?
A yawn? Just one more thing before you doze off. You say that there must be two parties to communicate, and I grant you that as well. It is a keen observation. Yet, would you possibly deny that within a single person there are multiple parties? The free individual bears within herself all sorts of possibilities. If you want to think pictorially about it, we can roughly slice up a consciousness. On the left side is the part of the consciousness that contains entrenched beliefs--prejudices you called them. On the right side is the part of consciousness that contains tentative beliefs. When a person writes to clarify, she runs between the two parts. Usually this movement involves reason and logic, but it also also involves pathos (for some beliefs are more ardently believed or are given to being more believable to a person than others). In this way we have two parties communicate: the formed person and the forming person. What is the outcome of the communication? Some of the forming person becomes more solid and transfers into the "formed" part while another part--the left overs--is jettisoned outside of the tentative person and into the jungle of the possible and impossible persons.
Now I am carrying on again and your eyes are glazing over. Wake up then, and come at me again.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Persuasion

A person stands before you and says, "believe me." Implicit in all written documents is a similar exhortation. All successful communication involves belief, that the speaker is trusted by the audience. An individual is frequently asked to assent to propositions introduced by another. Should you?

If there are nefarious motivations for the persuasion, perhaps not. Why would one person try to persuade another person to believe as they do? Persuasion involves conscious intention; a person persuades on purpose. As with all purposeful activity, there is a possible logical explanation for persuasion. Some social activities (actions involving more than the individual) are primarily performed for egocentric reasons. In such situations, the other (or others) have an accidental role. The actor is not ultimately concerned with his audience, but with himself. Applied to the action under consideration here, persuading another person is not the persuader's ultimate concern. The persuader could be uncertain of his own beliefs, and thus allay his anxiety by counting another person amongst the believers like him. He wants to place himself into the truth, and attempts to do so by surrounding himself with like-minded people.

Other social actions are primarily performed for tuistic reasons. In such situations, the other (or others) have an essential role. The actor is ultimately concerned with his audience, not himself. In the situation under consideration here, persuading another person is the persuader's ultimate concern. He could simply be trying to relay the truth to another person, and thus acts to her benefit by making her more informed. He wants to bring the audience into the truth, and brings into himself a sense of accomplishment.

Some tuistic actions have malevolent intentions. The persuader here has a will to deceive, wishing from malice to harm the person being persuaded. Here we may place all instances of swindling and lying.

Ideally, communication involves a reciprocity of interest. The speaker is interested (primarily) in the audience--not herself--and the audience is interested (primarily) in the speaker--not themselves. In the first scenario considered here, the persuader is less credible; in the second and third scenarios, the persuader is more credible. Credibility is diminished within a context of conflicted interest. In the first scenario, the persuader is more conflicted. He is doing you a service only by doing himself a service, which is to say he is doing you a disservice. The second and third scenarios may be outwardly indistinguishable to the other person involved in the communication. Trust and distrust are introduced as the means for navigating within the uncertainty. In assessing the situation, the other person may believe and take a risk that the scenario is of the third kind. Or, the other person may disbelieve and take a risk that the scenario is of the second kind.

A tricky thing about people is that they are complex. A given person may harbor all three reasons for persuasion at the same time.

To communicate is a precarious act. To volunteer an observation that may be incorrect, that may be incorporated into another's party's belief-system, that may then be acted upon, that may bring about more ugliness in the world--this is the risk of the speaker, the writer, or the artist. (Moreover, it is the risk of anyone who has a public face, for we are always emanating examples through our living.) Ethics is deeply enmeshed in communication because we take so many of our cues for beliefs from our community.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Risks of Writing

June 8, 2009

To begin writing is in part a selfish, pompous, and dangerous task. It is selfish insofar as the author seeks to be understood. He presents himself through presenting the contents of his consciousness.

To write is pompous insofar as the act of writing presumes that the author has something worthy of saying. To be read is to steal away the time of the reader. As the reader's time is limited, it is a great thing to steal away. (That a man is more infuriated by the theft of money than of his time is all together unreasonable, or more accurately, unwise.)

It is a dangerous thing to develop a talent because you may misuse it. Writing well is a distinctly dangerous talent because of its proximity to truth. Language consists of the boxes by which we cart off the contents of Being's warehouse. One who builds a great edifice out of boxes as is done by the act of writing puts himself and his community at great risk. Nothing damages the truth more than untruth being couched in pretty or lofty words. Although the box is empty, it is still enough to knock a passer-by off course when the writing-edifice fails testing.

I write, but only in my dungeon. My setting mitigates the third risk of writing, but does nothing to lessen the first two.