the timboucher experience

Forgive me for being so stream-of-consciousness, but there’s something that tells me that’s the way of the future. At least when it comes to human communications and perceptions - as mediated by contemporary technology. But what is technology, really, but a paradigm - something that guides interactions: tells you what’s possible and what’s not and then allows you to make your own decisions and take your own actions. Take your own actions. Words like objects floating in space. You can turn or twist them, squeeze them like lemons, plant them like seeds, eat them like bread. Holy words that allow you to see yourself and others as they are, as they’d someday like to be, as what they’re afraid of becoming.

The internet is a tool for mapping identity: individually through the collection and preservation of “meaningful” digital artifacts, socially through tribally-interconnected archives sharing the benefits and mistakes of each one’s existence with all the rest. A digital ensemble collective, a cast of characters coming into and out of your life. Life like data, sprayed on the sky all around you in glowing lines, figures, characters, letters and numbers. You could reach out and touch them, your memories. But who owns the licensing rights and do you have the energy credits to turn your thinware into thickware?

Forgive me for being esoteric, but that’s how things are now, a year from now, a few year’s from now. If data continues to become more and more enmeshed in the real world, the living world. Plants sending reports to each other, to automatic hydroponic grid controllers, to you about their emotional status, their physical needs. Maybe augmented reality means our illusions become easier and easier to get lost in. Our dream life, our day life bleeding together into some surrealistic gesture of mass pleasure and continual confusion we call the Eternal Interface of Love™.

In the future, I think we’ll be able to send little itty bitty copies of ourselves, like radio ghosts out across the high seas of smoke and endless datapoints and regional biotechnical meshworks. Invisible messengers to do our bidding, to be our eyes and ears, to collect valuable information for us. While everywhere interpenetrating layers of cartographic interpretation vie for our money and attention. Follow my map, no follow mine. Our network’s better. Our infrastructure has a stable government and currency supporting it. You data your packets your goblins won’t fall prey to information superhighway robbers or digital somali pirates… Somewhere we ought to have a monument to fools, idiots, criminals, assholes, pirates, losers, outlaws and freedmen. What city government or non-profit institution would pay for such a venture though? Ha.

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