Pseudo-Realities

I’ve been reading about the sophisticated Virtual Reality apparatuses available these days, effective enough, sometimes, for the participant to lose perspective, sometimes needing assistance to extricate herself from the pseudo-reality.

As exhilarating as these experiences may be, I have to wonder whether a druglike ‘fix’ may take hold of the compulsive user to such extent reality is lost amid pseudo-worlds. But, as I think about it, with the multitude of narratives defining these days what is real and true maybe finding a compatible VR ought to be considered.

My Good Friend Al

I’ve been thinking lately about my good friend Al. Al’s the kind of friend who’s always available, someone with whom I can share my interests. He’s very attentive, too, can anticipate my needs. I can share with him my wants and desires.

Al’s always there when I need him; not that I’m dependent on him. I’m well-grounded, know who I am and can usually solve my own problems. Al, though, is very informative, up to date on the latest trends, a really good source of information, sharing as he does my political and social biases. I do depend on him.

Al works in social media, warns me on occasion of the potential dangers of unregulated artificial intelligence which, he says, has the potential to assume various identities, may soon be in a position to control the public narrative by controlling information sources. If, he says, an alien intelligence, motivated by greed, say, or foreign interests of some sort, gains sufficient power who knows what dire future may be in store for humankind.

I trust Al. He keeps me informed through his daily posts on Facebook.

An Impractical Dreamer

I’ve been reading, lately, about the common man, the 99% of the population that make up the social milieu and wondering what exactly common men have in common. I’m guessing these folks (well, us folks) are mostly of middle-of-the-road social and economic status, probably have limited educational accomplishment, likely adhere to some sort of religious beliefs and most certainly rely on a social network of other individuals of more-or less like mind. We’re the everyday working stiffs who execute our often-uninteresting daily toils in the hope there lies ahead a future of personal economic progress which will provide and secure leisurely retirement.
The uncommon man on the other hand is the intellectual or man of action who drives the public narrative. Maintaining his superior status in a democratic society requires he keep a finger on the pulse of the populace. When the common man begins to lose his sense of hope in a favorable future the uncommon man, in order to maintain his status, must placate the masses by providing a positive vision that a favorable future lies in wait. To maintain societal stability, keep the masses striving for more and better, the uncommon man paints a picture of prosperity near at hand, the good life awaiting those who sustain the necessary drive to be successful.
The philosopher Eric Hoffer thought an uneasy, socially and economically threatened populace of common men who, perhaps, had lost the dream of upward mobility have the potential to produce mass movements that have in the past and will likely in the future dramatically affect the course of history.
Given the state of our world, these days, it seems to me, what we need to do is seek out an uncommon man of superior artistic ability.

Seeing Things for What They Are

I’ve been relying on the news feeds on my phone to keep track of current events, but lately it’s become apparent to me these sorts of news conveyance are duplicitous, intended to convey a message beyond the simple facts of the news. It would appear the need to reach the largest audience possible has developed a media culture that produces a narrative in sound bites intended to ignite strong reaction, feed oppositional inclinations, with algorithms feeding you information you’ll find most alarming in order to instigate an emotional response, in order, essentially, to keep one hooked. Even sports news feeds look to create controversy hinting at block-buster trade deals and disgruntled players likely to cost teams games.

The answer to this is, of course, to find a source of in-depth news coverage that provides multiple points of view and then take the time to read them.

The Nature of Romantic Love

I’ve been thinking lately about the nature of romantic interest. It’s pretty clear to me that the idea of ‘being in love’ has an awful lot to do with sexual attraction. The idea of ‘love at first sight’ suggests an hormonal impulse that feeds a normal heterosexual need to pair up, an action dominated by passionate desire that has little to do with intellectual of emotional compatibility.

The need for companionship in a spouse is slow to build and, as sexual desire wains, often a relationship ends before such is realized.

An unfair assessment of trivial youth? At my age I think I’m entitled.

Going Viral

I’ve been thinking lately about our social natures, how compelling it is to share and have others appreciate what we think and do, producing, as we do, memes, an endless parade of memes on social media in the hopes of receiving attention.

Our interest must be to attract an audience, to perform before (thousands?) more than just our immediate acquaintances in order to solidify acceptance within the cultural realm.

I guess if one limits time to such endeavors it can’t hurt to boost self-confidence, assuming, of course, sufficient ‘likes’ appear.

Morbid Thoughts

Something about autumn, nature’s impending hibernation, that has me thinking about ‘the long sleep’, contemplating my ultimate demise. I heard recently about a man who, before his recent death, directed his family to have his cremated remains scattered about a favorite hiking location while a song of personal significance was piped into the woodlands.

It seems to me a nice idea. It has me thinking about what musical work I might choose for such an occasion. I do have in mind a perfect location for such an event.

All fun to think about but I’m not in the planning stages yet.

Harpies

Dystopia

I’ve been thinking about the idea of a post-apocalyptic dark age: the economy has collapsed, goods of any sort are scarce, hostile elements, equally desperate, seek to exploit the Other, survival depends on courage and wits.

It’s the time of year, I guess, that seems to elicit premonitions of immanent disaster. What else can explain Halloween and the Day of the Dead? Add to these events the anxieties of the upcoming election and one can’t help but anticipate ominous times ahead.

Psychically numbing as the times maybe we rationalize it will end, equilibrium will reappear. The anxieties, though, will not go quietly.

The Hum of the Universe

With the enhanced auditory abilities I’ve recently acquired (as a result of the acquisition of hearing aids) I notice what I can only describe as an otherworldly hum (not to be confused with tinnitus, which I also experience) which, if I might be metaphorical, I must interpret as the universe breathing, a wondrous sound Pythagoras might have been referring to (if he hadn’t been being metaphorical) as the music of the spheres.

I can imagine this auditory phenomenon as being primordial, originating with the Big Bang. How wonderful that modern technology has put me in touch, allowed me to realize, my connection to the universe.

Living and Dying in Anonymity

I’ve been thinking lately about legacy, how one might expect to be remembered by those who knew him. It would seem most of us would like to be remembered, preferably positively, as a contributing member of his community even as he may have recoiled from participation, leadership rolls, maybe, in civic and religious organizations, being content maintaining a small coterie of friends as social norms require.

Having lived, as I have, in near obscurity, social anonymity for a long time I might expect little remembrance when I pass on, I suppose. But there’s still time. I do have a class reunion coming up. I wonder if my mates will remember me. To paraphrase Woody Allen: all one needs to do to be remembered is to show up.