Dangerous Compassions

thanks, Arabic

The internet is pretty amazing–some random pagan chant I repeated over and over again 25 years ago in San Luis Obispo while dancing around a maypole, I can search two words of it, and Bob’s my uncle–there it is.  I can get the lyrics right and hear ten different versions of it.  Dang.  Or really, daaaaaang.  Love it.

But then some people think everything’s on the internet, which is just not true.  Those strange things, it scares me a little, to lose them.  If it’s all electricity, and in twenty years from climate disaster, there is no electricity, and we are left without all this stuff…people didn’t realize it was only on the internet for safekeeping?  Yikes.

Hopefully some smart librarians are on it.  I imagine one day happening upon the Secret Repository of All Knowledge in Analog Form.  Somewhere underground in the midwest, as Ming and I work our way across the barely populated superflu-ravaged country on some post-apocalyptic knowledge quest.  Hmm, sounds kind of cool.  But hopefully that will never happen.

In twenty years, I’ll be 63, the age my mom died, but Ming will be 73, which is kind of old, yeah.  But his peeps get old, and he’s a nurse, so maybe he can stay on top of it, hale.

Youtube thinks I want to hear a bunch of pagan music now.  I can’t say I mind.

I watched a documentary about surveillance capitalism the other day, and Ming came home, and I told him several ideas from the movie.  The whole time I was watching it, I was like, why am I watching this.   The scholar has amazing hair, but it must have been more than that.  I guess it was fascinating.  I kind of hope the facts were not real, but I get the feeling of the opposite–in actuality, the scholar was telling us just the tip of the iceberg.

The creepiest part maybe, besides the microphones in the Nests that were not depicted on the schematics, was about the data from photos on facebook being sold, resold, and resold then used for really bad purposes, like to train AIs to do facial recognition to hurt people, imprison people in China and such.  Yuck.

I want to take everything away, but it’s already done, and one Laura-Marie taking her photos off facebook or never putting another would really do nothing.  I feel pretty hopeless about it.  I didn’t realize.

It’s not the photos themselves, or the images, or who’s depicted where–it’s something I don’t understand, about data they can get from the photos, something about how facial muscles work, and what differentiates one person from another.  I don’t get it because I don’t know what an algorithm is, or how computers really work, and I can’t do math.

As far as I’m concerned, an algorithm is the sound that comes from beating a drum made of cotton.  Hmm, guess that’d be algodonrhythm.

Hahahaha, I’m delighted by some Arabic stuff.  Do you know where the word algorithm comes from?  Omg!

I’m so excited–maybe I should have been a linguist.  Oh well.  I’ll be a barefoot linguist in my spare time.  Armchair linguist cropping screenshots of google results of scanned old books.  Hahahahaha!

By Laura-Marie

Good at listening to the noise until it makes sense.

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