I love how technology in a show from a year ago, five years ago or ten years ago looks hilariously outdated (if any of the tech they showed ever became possible or real at all). Things like Quantum Leap always showed an iridescent future (loads of “future” shows in the 80s and 90s did the same). And that is just about all you could say about them: iridescent and full of laser beams. Watching something like Person of Interest and all its surveillance does not look futuristic, even if it does not always feel totally realistic – it just looks like more 1984/Brave New World in origin. We’re being surveilled all the time, so why not make use of all that data? In Person of Interest, it’s in the interest of helping people. But in the real world it’s more likely to be companies building dubious business models around the use of so-called Big Data.
I really only just started watching a couple of episodes of Person of Interest. It’s a filler, not something I have ever had a burning desire to watch. I just need some noise in the background while I write white papers. I have nothing to say about it except that it prompted these thoughts about technology on TV.
Continuing in my bid for daily blog entries, I am getting a head start on tomorrow’s although anyone reading this won’t know that because it will be published tomorrow (which, upon publication – right now – is today). I made a semi-unscheduled trip to Oslo after work (it’s a three-hour, straight shot up the E6 motorway between Gothenburg and Oslo). I needed to come to Oslo anyway on Thursday, but in a wee twist of fate, my best friend in Oslo contacted me and invited me to come over tonight. So here I am writing from the guest room before falling asleep, enjoying the cold draft that creeps in. This friend and I had not seen each other in what felt like an eternity and so many things had happened between the last time and now. We started reminiscing about all the things that have happened in our lives since we first met, and we might as well be talking about other people.
Most evenings at home alone I spend time listening to music, sometimes getting into a Buddy Holly and The Supremes groove. And I play with a hula hoop, setting it to this soundtrack. Listening to the Supremes in particular, I think all of life can be a Supremes song. Years ago, when the aforementioned dear friend in Oslo met her now-husband, I assigned The Supremes’ “I Hear a Symphony” to their budding relationship. “I’m lost in a world, made for you and me” (and not your kids from a previous relationship).
The same old story – resisting, maybe even feeling nothing – resistance or no – but then suddenly relenting, only to have the feeling unreciprocated suddenly, retreating.
“Love is Here and Now You’re Gone” “You persuaded me to love you, and I did, but instead of tenderness I found heartache instead. Into your arms I fell so unaware of the loneliness that was waiting there”
Same story – it is so much easier to be alone and content with oneself than to be persuaded to let down one’s guard, finally, only be to lonelier than ever in the confines of heartache.
“In and Out of Love” “I keep reaching out for tenderness, touching the hand that holds emptiness. Well I’m looking for a love that lingers on, long after that first kiss is gone; that kind of love that keeps burning bright, long after we’ve said goodnight”
We keep searching – but it never really comes.
“Remove This Doubt” “Each time we meet, you make me feel so incomplete, there’s no joy in the air, I just don’t think you care…”
I first connected with this song one autumn after spending a summer with someone whose sole purpose seemed to be finding new ways to criticize and undermine me.
And then of course the songs that remind me of TV shows – “Reflections” (theme song of China Beach)
Much later – almost let this whole day pass without posting. I had a strange day and made something of a personal mistake – or misjudgment. It led to an openness I have not felt before (had not felt comfortable with before). I have rather inexplicably been feeling things I have not felt in this unfiltered way since I was about 13 years old. I could say or write a lot of words about it but none make any sense. I can only feel.