Tuesday, August 05, 2014

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Cultural disintegration.

In fifty years, a large part of our current culture will be gone.

The reasons?

New media models that require "monthly access fees" (yes Blizzard, Sony, I'm looking at you), and DRM protected media.

Sure, some companies will 'do the right thing' and open their media to the public once they are not actively using it as a revenue source, but they will be in the tiny minority.

My kids will probably never be able to dust off the World of Warcraft DVD, insert it into their holo-reader and find out what our generation did for fun. Likewise with the millions of songs that are stored precariously on iPods throughout the world. Once the iPod breaks, and the iTunes servers are switched off for the last time, that music is lost forever to the people who loved it dearly, but were foolish enough to accept a 'limited rights' version of their media.

Looking back, we can still enjoy art from the entire history of humanity - cave paintings, books, canvas and sheet music, just to name a few. Apart from the physical disintegration of the medium, little can destroy these expressions of our culture. With our new encoded, protected and limited DRM-riddled media, there will be very little to look back on from an individuals point of view.

I expect that organizations will spring up to restore these lost works of art, and efforts will be made to make our current culture accessible in fifty or a hundred years. But where does that leave the young kid who finds the suitcase full of DVD's, or Blue-Ray discs in his attic, left to him by his grandfather? Will he or she be able to take a glimpse into history, in the way that our generation has been able to dust off the old vinyl record player, and reverently remove that piece of vinyl from its weathered cardboard cover, to listen to a crackly rendition of Muddy Water's 'Baby Please Don't Go'

I doubt it.


Monday, August 28, 2006


The greatest miracle on earth,
a heartbeat, signifying birth.

But when that heartbeat's from afar,
It surely means a magnetar.

Newborn star.


I can't wait for vat-grown meat.
It has a taste that can't be beat.

No need to kill things that have feet.
Until then, tofu I must eat.

For lunch.

Sunday, August 27, 2006

The sofa

Blue, colour of comfort
heals my weary bones.

Yellow, patterned textile
Refreshes the mind.

I rest my head awhile
and quietly sleep.

Through lunch.

Where is my Tabouleh?

Your likeness I miss
like a soft summer's kiss
of sunshine and warm, gentle breeze..

You're the flavour of green
The fragrance of spring
The texture of leaf in between

My teeth.

Ode to Blinky

Sleek curves shattered.
Once mighty weapon.
Now usless baton.

Keys still vibrant
Your cheap, plastic case
Was your downfall.


It Aint Art