“What may emerge as the most important insight of the twenty-first century is that man was not designed to live at the speed of light. Without the countervailing balance of natural and physical laws, the new video-related media will make man implode upon himself. As he sits in the informational control room, whether at home or at work, receiving data at enormous speeds — imagistic, sound, or tactile — from all areas of the world, the results could be dangerously inflating and schizophrenic. His body will remain in one place but his mind will float out into the electronic void, being everywhere at once in the data bank. Discarnate man is as weightless as an astronaut but can move much faster. He loses his sense of private identity because electronic perceptions are not related to place. Caught up in the hybrid energy released by video technologies, he will be presented with a chimerical “reality” that involves all his senses at a distended pitch, a condition as addictive as any known drug. The mind, as figure, sinks back into ground and drifts somewhere between dream and fantasy. Dreams have some connection to the real world because they have a frame of actual time and place (usually in real time); fantasy has no such commitment.”—Marshall McLuhan, The Global Village, page 97 (via vagabondbohemia)
Rumors and unverified information emerge constantly and spread over social networks, via messaging apps and through more traditional methods such as such as word of mouth. They cascade across borders and social circles with incredible velocity, all the while picking up new elements, morphing, or being confirmed or debunked.
What if there were a place where reporting was aggregated with an eye towards confirmation and debunking? What is there were a place you could go to confirm or debunk claims in news stories?What if instead of having to read article after article, keep an eye on social media, and monitor Google Alerts, there were one place where you could see the current state of reporting about a given claim and track its veracity?
Emergent is an attempt to offer that service. As noted on our About page, it’s part of a research project I’m pursuing as a fellow with the Tow Center for Digital Journalism at Columbia’s Graduate School of Journalism. That research is the driving force behind Emergent’s creation, and is the source of its data.
Kinda like a real-time Snopes. I dig it.
[shouts from rooftops] Good god in his mighty chair, this is something every Tumblr community needs very badly, so badly, on the order of like water or oxygen or other extremely basic metabolic needs. May this team never want for anything for the rest of their lives.
“I played the record walking two hours home from work when I felt too claustrophobic to take the train. It seemed to make the cloudiness disappear. As I walked with Too Bright in my headphones, everything became less scary and more cinematic. Feeling overwhelmed could be beautiful, I told myself. I will make something out of this one day when it is over. In the meantime, I stopped at a liquor store just before the Williamsburg Bridge for a nip. The balmy summer sun was beginning to set and as I made my way across the bridge, taking little forbidden sips I watched another day that I had survived become night. My time. Everything went from pink to light trails and stars. I fuzzed. I smiled to myself, finally. I reached my arms over my head because it felt good in the warm breeze. The rumble of the J train injected some sort of awe in the city. It felt good and amazing that I was there. I could finally stop thinking about by body failing, about shortness of breath or a rapid heart rate. It was good to be on a suspension bridge listening to “Queen”, walking in my own parade of celebration and defiance.”—nobetterculture writes beautifully on Perfume Genius. I relate to this hard (via jennpelly)
About a month ago, Sophia Katz told me she was raped by a former friend and roommate of mine when she visited New York this past May. Yesterday, she published a piece chronicling the sexual abuse she experienced that week, using a pseudonym for her rapist. I shared the piece on multiple platforms and commended her bravery. I said, “This is very important, everyone should read this.” I said “We need to protect and support rape victims, defend young girls in the indie lit community against predatorial, privileged men.” Other people liked the post, shared it, added more supportive comments. But by the end of the day, there was no further discussion about it. No one asked who he is, even though he is an editor within a community we all participate in.
And then I realized, I hadn’t either.
I had felt afraid of ‘starting that war’ against him. I realized that maybe people were afraid to ask who he was because they already knew. Maybe he was someone they considered a friend. Maybe identifying him as a rapist made them uncomfortable and sad. Maybe they didn’t believe it.
I lived with this person for a year. I listened to the way he spoke about his exgirlfriend after she broke up with him. I listened when he told me he “didn’t see the point of hanging out with any of his female friends” because at the end of the day he doesn’t get to fuck them. I pulled my piece from his magazine that he had solicited me for because I no longer wanted to support the career of a casual misogynist.
We shouldn’t be afraid to discuss this publicly when Sophia has been brave enough to call out her abuser in a community where he has immense support and friendship. Stephen Tully Dierks should not be shielded because he is or was our friend. We should hold our friends as accountable as we hold everyone else, if not more.
Having to cajole someone into sleeping with you doesn’t mean you had consent. Especially if you had power over them (the ability to kick them to the curb in an unfamiliar city, for example).
To all the men out there: Read Katz’s story. Don’t just admonish Stephen, push yourself further. Think about your own past. Think about what consent has meant to you in the past and what it means to you now. Look at the standards you’ve set for yourself — were they enough? Are they enough? Do you need to hold yourself and others to a higher standard?
“Simulation is different than a simple representation. A representation is our way of communicating and abstracting a “real” entity. So, our word “pumpkin,” or an image of one, represent the real thing that is a pumpkin. Simulation, on the other hand, is the negation of the “real” pumpkin. A simulacrum doesn’t cash in it’s value for the real thing, it only seeks to be exchanged with other simulacra and itself. It’s where semiotics meets capitalist commodity fetishism.”—
When I first began to read this blog, I was struck by how many of the stories charted the evolution of children being hurt mentally, physically, emotionally and I said to myself, “Well that’s not my story, do I belong here? Should I share my…
Everyone here ignoring the recent news stories on threats to Emma Watson has probably been making a good move. If you’ve read about the threats to her or about them being a hoax with an anti-4chan aim, though, it’s really worth reading this debunking.
The news outlets I read covered the initial threats and mostly covered the ‘hoax’ but stopped there. One of the current most read stories on BBC News, for instance, still takes at face value the story that it was a hoax by a social media company called Rantic campaigning to shut down 4chan. I guess that correcting a correction is quite embarrassing, plus talking about hoaxes of hoaxes inevitably starts sounding like bizarre conspiracy theory territory, and a lot of mainstream journalism is already shaky on internet matters.
There’s something really terrible about Rantic being the story standing, though.
Having followed recent sagas around the disgusting harassment of women for daring to have an opinion on video games, there are some pretty consistent messages pumped out by harassers and deniers on twitter and in comment sections:
1) Women fake that threats have been made to them, for attention
2) They want attention to further their cause of promoting censorship
The fact that both are really obviously not true causes some issues.
Now, look at the Rantic statement that respectable news organisations are currently running with. Rantic says it was hired by celebrities, and includes a letter to Obama, no less, calling for censorship of 4chan.
So, the people behind this have created a massively high profile threat to a female celebrity talking about feminism (and the threats were still real, whether they were from the nebulous 4chan or not). And now they’ve got the implication almost as widely reported that she hired someone to make a fake threat, in order to gain attention for the cause of censorship.
After this struck me, a Sharon Van Etten post on the initial story popped up in my facebook feed due to a friend commenting on it, and sure enough, elsewhere in the replies, someone linked to a legit-looking news article about the ‘hoax’ and called it a Social Justice Warrior conspiracy to promote government censorship (I would post a photo, but facebook’s comment system is so crap I can’t get back to it).
I don’t think the supposed motivation of the people behind this and whether they have any links to 4chan is even relevant. They could be just playing all sides for clicks, whatever, but they are acting as a great help to misogynists everywhere.
jus curious what makes a nameless internet commentator without evn the courage to come off of anonymous and put a name to their attacks think their opinion on music (or anything really) has any validity at all and what jealousy makes someone like that feel entitled to a spray their butthurt whining about other's writing. dont they think that hurts thoughtful consideration and criticism of cultural media in the end? dont they feel embarassed at all?
jus curious what makes a college dropout without evn the good sense to know her own failed music attempts were terrible think her opinion on music (or anything really) has any validity at all and what vanity makes someone like that feel entitled to a public opinion on others music. dont u think that hurts music in the end? dont u feel embarassed at all?
I’m not a drug addict anymore, which is one thing. Lots of people would say, “Isn’t that great. He must be so happy.” If you talk to any recovering addict, when you’re not sort of sedating yourself all the time, it’s like, “Yes, my world has opened up like a flower. Yes, I can be much happier. Yes I feel like I have a new lease on life. Yes, my relationships are more substantial.” At the same time, the things that I used opiates as a crutch for—I have more anxiety now. When I do get depressed, I can’t just instantly get high and swat it away. I have to work through it. Many people have called me up to say “I’m proud of you,” but, at the same time, I know inside that it’s terrifying. I don’t know that I’ve ever been as terrified as this.
For everything that’s wonderful about not using drugs, there is also the reality that you used them for a reason. You fall in love with a certain drug because it’s working in some ways. I used it for a long time for essentially positive reasons—to do things I couldn’t on my own. But now I want to do those things on my own. For example, we played the other day at Outside Lands Festival here in San Francisco. I’ve played so many festivals over the past five, six years, but I found myself absolutely terrified, and my hands were shaking. I had stage fright like never before. It was shocking and hard to deal with, but then I went up and played the show, and it was good. It was also that much better. It’s just a double-edged sword: all this happiness and sobriety.
Thought this quote from Christopher Owens was quite astute and something probably not mentioned enough—drugs are among other things a coping strategy. An ultimately destructive one, but also one that people sometimes deploy for rational reasons.
It is about as impossible to describe the sensation of not being depressed to a depressed person as it is describing depression to someone who has never been depressed. To people with depression like mine, where it’s a constant presence for years, they’ve often forgotten how their brain works without that black cloud. Only now, I think, that I’m on the right cocktail, am I realizing how much my depression colored everything about my life.
The thought of running errands isn’t unbearable and anxiety-producing. Waking up in the morning isn’t a huge existential struggle; for the first time in my life I hit snooze once and pop out of bed ready for the day. Maybe even looking forward to it: a dog in the office, lunch in the park by the water, dinner with a friend. I’m more social. I don’t have meltdowns at parties and Irish goodbye. I drink less. I’m not constantly exhausted - or I am, but because I work six days a week, not because of irrational fatigue. I can be asleep by midnight for the first time since I was a child, and not because I’m trying to hide from the world.
It’s a remarkable feeling, one I can’t find an analogy for. It’s not a weight lifted or sun shining through the clouds, it’s like my whole brain has been washed clean of all the doubt and worry and deep, constant sadness. I can access my thoughts and feelings with a rational clarity I can’t remember ever having before. A gift.
This is so true. One of the worst things about depression is not being able to remember life being any other way.