Mapping the Technological

On a NetZero commercial, the CEO, said something like, “we all know that all of the internet providers get you to same the internet, so why not pay less for the same product?”

Good point. As consumers that makes sense. A lot of sense. Same thing, less money, good bargain. The Internet for cheaper, not free. A space that is both real and not real. Exists and does not exist. Regulated and not regulated. Coded and visual. www dot the same thing dot com. We can all get to the same place by logging on, paying our monthly connection fee and hitting a few keystrokes. We can be in the same place at the same time, looking at the same thing. We can all be there and here at the same moment. The Internet is one place and yet, it feels like every place.

I tried to map the Internet.
I destroyed an Ethernet cable to look at what made my connectivity possible. I wrapped pieces of the empty cable shell around an orb that is both our planet and our hub. There are two ends to the cable, both still intact with their wiring. One hangs from the center, the culmination of coil similar to a stovetop burner. The other sits in a blanket of rare color, the possibility of anything keeping it glued to the canvas. The destroyed wiring swings from one end of the canvas to the next, at times remaining connected to the next wire and at other times cut from its connection. The canvas is both 3-dimensional and flat, with pieces of the wiring stuck to the paint and flowing from it. In Laurie Anderson’s Stories from the Nerve Bible she discusses the Internet and technology in terms of a series of numbers strung together to manifest something both physical and not. Hanging on the cords, in an attempt to follow this line of thought, are newspaper cutouts of numbers, arbitrarily placed. In the middle of the board, weaving in between the coil and the wires is a flimsy silhouette of a flower, both trapped in the technological cyberscape and blooming out of it.

I tried to map the Internet.

We all know, as the CEO says, that there is one Internet out there, I doubt however, it looks like this. Whatever it is, it is accessible in almost any part of the world and yet it still strikes me as existing somewhere outside of the world.

We certainly rely on the Internet and in a way now, we co-exist with it.

Paper Shmaper

About a month ago, I was going to do this really cool postmodern thingy for the final paper. The kind of thing Debbie talks about, with non-fiction narrative interweaved with critical analyses of some cultural texts. But after I began research (the topic was going to be the American Diner), I couldn't find much pertinent texts and the ones I did find were from Summit and have since been recalled. Further, I am supposed to write a thesis and pass a language exam this semester, so while the paper may have been interesting to write, I think it would have caused more headaches then I needed. So I began rethinking.

Since my thesis is on the horror film, I have done a lot (at least it feels like a lot) of research on monsters, ghouls, torture, and violence. While I don't want to double dip the research, I really just kind of what to double dip the research. Which does not mean that I will just turn in the thesis for the seminar paper (because somehow I don't think torture porn, however far I stretch it, could meet the final paper criteria); however, what it does mean is that I would like to find someway to use some of the horror theory in conjunction with science stuff and narrative stuff to see what happens. The horror genre has its roots in the gothic tradition (i.e...the Castle of Otranto) and so I started thinking about literature from that era. When I was an undergrad I think I read "Frankenstein" every single year and so that immediatley came to mind. Not only is it about monsters and science, but it also has elements of horror. In rereading the novel last week these are a couple ideas I came up with.


1. Much of the scientific exploration done preceding the release of "Frankenstein" was done out of curiosity. We see a wild curiosity in Banks exemplified by his attempts to, um, collect almost everything and even in people like Blumenbach who were theorizing about the collections, I think, there is a sense of curiosity. A similar curiosity is found in Dr. Frankenstein. IN the first couple chapters there a number of examples where the Doc muses on his curiosity for the body and for life.
However, as the story progressed from literature to film, changes began happening. The narratives lost some of that curiosity and gained more elements of horror. What I was thinking about was first looking at the novel in the context of scientific exploration, understanding that inquiry almost always begins with curiosity, and then looking at the various film versions of the narrative, attempting to understand how Frankenstein has gone from being the doctor, to meaning the monster.

2. Larry's question what kind of theory can we derive from these texts instead of, what kind of theory can we apply to these texts, has really resonated with me this semester. So when I was reading "Frankenstein" I kept thinking about this. I have always been moved by the chapters where the monster tells his story the doctor about observing the cottagers and learning from them. But this time around, while still moved, I also was thinking about anthropological observations in general, recalling some of Cook's observations among others. So, thinking about Larry's question, what kind of theory of observation can be derived from the monsters example. I know he is eventually driven away by the cottagers, but while he is observing them he does so in pure hope of learning. He has no real ulterior motives other than to learn from them. Anthropological observation seems so wrought with intentions and the desire to change what is being observed, but the monster wants exactly the opposite. By comparing some of the historical anthropological observations with that of the monster's can a better model for observing be established?