The Museum of Vestigial Desire

Remote

tags: insect published on:

The remote in the context of a browser and the remote in the context of regular, everyday experience are two different things.

In the scope of experience, outside the browser, the remote encompasses all the experiences that are at that moment not current. Currentness decides the split between the experiences that are local and the ones that are remote.

In experiential terms we value the local over the remote. The local is the currently unraveling experience, the remote is either the past or the future. The remote is remote on the timeline.

When you gain the ability to synthesise the production of the local experience spontaneously, you are able to fluidly blend in the past, future and the current into one visceral experience.

The remote is all of time, that which has been and that which will be. To access it outside of the circular loop of the progression of time affects the nature of the material dramatically.

The remote is not just an archive of everything that happens in the past and the future. Thought is an important part of this archive. Everything that is ever thought becomes a part of the remote.

We live in the local but we access the remote for all of our material. We access the remote to replenish the resource of the material that we also chew on to produce the local.

Also is a collaborative word. It indicates a contribution but does not indicate the quantum of contribution. So when we say that we also chew on material accessed from the remote to produce the local, we do not know or say what is the balance between this material and other material.

We do not know of the exact composition of the local experience and its material history. We know this part of the story only after it has passed. We are able to think about the present only after it has become the past or before it becomes the future. We are able to think about the local only after it has become a part of the remote.

We are pre-occupied in the present by the sensory bits of experience. While things happen, we also have to process the experience and understand it.

Multiple also-tagged information tracks are dealt with in the same channel of time to produce local experience.

How do radically surprising things happen in the present if they are mashups of two tracks of information, one of which is already pre-populated?

Surprise is a product of experience, but it is also a product of the sustenance of the lag. When the lag lapses, we experience a breakage in the felt pattern of experience.

What is this lag? The lag is the buffering over of the flavour of experience from the previous instant. The previous local is the border between the local and the remote. The lag is the lingering flavour of life.

We always write locally.

Writing is a local experience. It is produced by the co-location in time of the same also-tagged tracks. Surprise is produced in text on self-reading only when a remoteness comes in, when the lingering flavour has passed.

‹ index