Because now is a question whose atom of an answer is continuously sheared across the diluted electronic landscape, when hundreds of people I know have their given names written in a magical box in my pocket, and somewhere in some other cloud of electrons is another list of chosen names revolving around the nearly 15,000 messages they and I have shared. In this era of networked instantiation, my location is a long rope of places where I can be reached, all various distances from the swirl of electrical impulses that is my own very head.I would like that rope of locations to be more tightly woven, and I would like it to serve more as a taut line as between tin cans, and less as a tangle of threads as between fishing rods thrown idly across each other with their reels unspooling in the back of the rowboat.
I copied 12 or so texts off the work cell phone which I returned yesterday… I have another 80 or so on my own (breaking but not broken) phone which I feel I ought to capture but I haven’t decided is worth any chunk of time I’ve had to do it.
How many email accounts do I have now? And how many contact lists? Spread through how many devices and servers? At least the files on my work laptop are nearing a stable state of order. Is there an equal and opposite something which is moving towards entropy?
