Reminiscing

Para Erasmo, que un dia como tantos pero ya algo añejo, platicando sobre mi preferencia por la ciencia ficcion y la suya por la magia y la ficcion historica, me suelta un repentino “todo tiempo pasado fue mejor”—puñalada en la espalda para alguien como yo, irremediable optimista y tecno-utopizador de futuros.

El texto dice:

“Vamos a la mitad de la hora nostalgica, llamenme anticuado, pero realmente siento que ya no es tan buena como cuando empezamos.”

Haciendo mandados, me toco platicar hoy con una señora que dirige un cibercafe mientras los dos haciamos fila. Le pregunte sobre su negocio y dos cosas me llamaron mucho la atencion. La primera es que un cibercafe gasta mas, mucho mas, en luz que en el internet mismo. Mientras que esta señora pagaba 650 pesos por internet al mes, la luz le salia de 2,600 a 3,000 pesos—casi 5 veces mas. Asi que lo que uno paga es mas bien la electricidad, no el internet. En vez de cibercafes deberian pues llamarlos electrocafes.

La otra cosa que me intereso fue que los cibercafes locales se aliaron para fijar el precio minimo por una hora de internet (12 pesos, si mal no recuerdo). Que, segun eso, a menos no les sale. Lo que no alcanzo a entender es porque necesitan imponer un precio minimo. Si alguien lo da a ese precio y no le sale, pues alla su problema si quiere regalar su dinero, no? Me recuerda una platica con un taxista que me decia que si no estuvieran restringidas las licencias para taxis, habria tanta competencia que ya para nadie saldria. Sera?

Bueno, hubo una cosa mas, una meta-cosa, que tambien me llamo la atencion en la platica: cuanto puede enseñarte una conversacion casual sobre esferas tan distantes a las tuyas.

...es el titulo de una cancion de Miguel Gallardo. La cancion es buena pero a mi lo que me encanta es el titulo. Es mi eleccion para ristra de 5 palabras mas romantica (y cachonda) de la lengua Española. En Frances, mi delfin es aquel inovidable (y fatalmente ironico) Je veux baiser votre âne! de Vince Cassel a Monica Bellucci en Irréversible (al que ella responde, sonriendo y tambien con 5 palabras, Tu es un tel romantique!)

Aunque ahora que lo pienso, siendo el campo de juego ristras (y no solo frases), preferiria: lima, axila, cadera, media-mañana y pupila.

En que cosas divago… supongo que yo tambien ando en busca de una amitié amoureuse.

I’m a fan of DHH (that’s David Heinemeier Hansson, but since no one, not me for sure, can type his name correctly, he’s usually called DHH). He is the creator of Ruby on Rails, a very smart programmer, and an even smarter manager. How can you not like someone with this in his about page?

Anyway, out of a childish infatuation with his persona I’ve taken upon myself to read his blog, Loud Thinking, back to front, all 4 years of it. I’ve just read the first 24 posts from July 2001, and it has been a lot of fun.

For one thing, I feel like a scholar, tracing all the antecedents that lead to someone’s achievements, savoring the obscure details, going straight to the source, nosing around on the archives. It’s fascinating to see his development.

It also feels like if I were talking to his ghost of days gone by. Blogs are truly a new state of being (see the next post for more of that techno-boosterism). What’s surprising is how similar that ghost is to myself. How he also struggled with procrastination, also likes the same music that I like, also learned VIM, also loves to argue, also fears growing old, also has sleep disorders, also likes to pontificate once in a while.

Of course, there are also lots of differences. But I knew that already. What is amazing is how much you can have in common with someone apparently so different. One of the first bloggers I read—back in the day when reading a blog was something weird and shameful (”You read people’s diaries? What for?”)—put e.e.cummings’ Anyone lived in a pretty how town in her about page, and interpreted it as a love story between “anyone” and “noone” (here’s an interpretation in that vein). What she found tragic was how oblivious the townsfolk were to their love and grief:

So what she treasured in blogs (this is all from memory, I’ve never been able to find her blog again) was their ability to let you see behind “anyone” and “noone”. They put you in contact with people you’d probably never even meet, let alone talk to, and show you that, in the end, they’re not so different from yourself—they also struggle, love, fear, and fail, just like you do.

My favorite from those 24 first posts? Refusing to let an identity mask run my life, hands down.

That’s the chilling intro to Ghost in the Shell: Stand Alone Complex. Honestly, when I first read it I thought it was mere Engrish, but now that I’ve come to terms with its form (I’m even starting to like it), I can’t get its content out of my head. It’s just so powerful.

It makes you think of civilization as one long gradient towards ever larger complexes. A very interesting lens with which to revisit many important events and inventions: family, clans, money, speaking, writing, printing, law, contracts, corporations, science, the net, IP, blogs, wiki, mailing lists, email, IM, whatnot.

And it reminds me a lot of a favorite essay of mine—one I stumbled across a few years ago in wonderful serendipity: Erosion of the Essential Self. In it, it is argued that our sense of self is being made increasingly obsolete by technology, and that this may not necessarily be a bad thing. One of the interesting points it makes is that our sense of self itself is probably a byproduct of written culture: “In ongoing, face-to-face conversation, we are little concerned with the mind behind the words; meaning is shaped before us in the course of the interchange. However, with the emergence of printed text, important questions were created about the ‘author’s meaning.’” It’s one of those essays that simply becomes a part of you afterwards, something like this: