sainteve (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} sainteve) wrote,@ 2008-11-30 23:55:00 |
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GPS
I bought a gps. I tell it where I want to go and it tells me the best way to get there. What I really want, besides the next model up - with speech to text, telling me street names - is a gps for my life. Had I owned the life gps, it would have told me that my current model could not pronounce street names, cuz the BestBuy guy sure didn't know.
I would type in data: Longitude. Latitude. Career Goal. Nearest Boyfriend. Spiritual bliss.
It would say, "Get away from the computer and continue to closet."
"Change into something less dowdy."
I'd make a selection.
The voice (I've chosen "British English, Female") will sound a little snotty as she says, "RECALCULATING"
I continue to make selections prodded by her approval/disgust until I get my next direction.
"Leave house"
I type in a search for "keys"
She will say, "Continue to door" knowing that my keys hang undisturbed on the wrong side of the door. Yes, in spite of every intention to take out the trash the night before, I'd have fallen asleep rather spontaneously, leaving the things in mute expectation of my unrequited chore, inviting violence and humiliation instead.
Okay, so that happened this morning, obviously without the life gps. Instead of the life-affirming tones of the handy life gps guiding me toward my ill-fated keys at the time of my exhausted stupor (about 5am), I passed out in absolute silence. At 10am, my youngest neighbor wildly energized me by opening my door (while I was talking on the phone in bed, naked) in order to kindly leave my keys inside my apartment without knocking first. I think I said something like, "WHOA! WHOA!"
Okay, so in a more perfect world the life gps finds my damn keys and sends me to go do stuff. It's all perfect as long as I don't rebel. If I rebel she gets lost and eventually loses the satellite connection. Is this all sounding a tad like The Schedulers? It's life, in any case, and when you don't pay attention to the small voice it eventually loses connection to divinity - the great satellite in the sky. I certainly think so. The Schedulers haven't gone anywhere, btw. They throw bones of information all the time.
Maybe I'm inspired. I suddenly feel like writing more than, say, cleaning. Of course, if I wanted to just write, I would start cleaning or - hamster that I am - I'd check my email, and that newslink. Or the other link. But the life gps would catch me.
The life gps would watch me run off to Ebay and go, "RECALCULATE" every time I wasn't writing shimmering prose. She'd know I wasn't blogging on MySpace when I click the ex-boyfriend's profile. RECALCULATE. It's going to haunt me. My higher self found a palpable voice.
The first time I encountered a GPS was with Jon Ward who used it for scavenger hunting. Later, the Wards brought me along on one of their wine hunting expeditions in the south of England, where we got to choose celebrity voices for the GPS. I really liked the Ozzy Osbourne one who says bad words.
Mine is too cheap to speak street names, but it's better than crashing with a printed google map in my right hand. At least now I won't make so many wrong turns or pay too much for the gps in rental cars. A five day gps rental pretty much costs the same as buying one. Thank you Andrew Freeman for inspiring me to take the dive into GPS land. Andrew was my favorite KKProjects person. He was absolutely invaluable for the TIL DEATH DO YOU PART installation for the biennial in New Orleans this year. My love of the gps emerged from this experience, overbuying fabric and Party City items.
Oh, and while I'm on the New Orleans experience, a nice review of Sex Crimes appeared in the newspaper. Thank you, David Cuthbert (Times Picayune) and Jim Fitzmorris for meddling. Shout outs to Miss Nicole for descending on her own dime to bail me out of electronic solitude and rocking onstage (as well as bizarre performances offstage involving household items), Billie for faithfully smoothing out the neurosis, Zalia for great tech even when I was a mess, and Dennis/Kristen/Jeff/Ben from The New Orleans Fringe Festival for a beautifully run event.
Okay. I'm done blogging now. And I know where my keys are.
Night Night.
I bought a gps. I tell it where I want to go and it tells me the best way to get there. What I really want, besides the next model up - with speech to text, telling me street names - is a gps for my life. Had I owned the life gps, it would have told me that my current model could not pronounce street names, cuz the BestBuy guy sure didn't know.
I would type in data: Longitude. Latitude. Career Goal. Nearest Boyfriend. Spiritual bliss.
It would say, "Get away from the computer and continue to closet."
"Change into something less dowdy."
I'd make a selection.
The voice (I've chosen "British English, Female") will sound a little snotty as she says, "RECALCULATING"
I continue to make selections prodded by her approval/disgust until I get my next direction.
"Leave house"
I type in a search for "keys"
She will say, "Continue to door" knowing that my keys hang undisturbed on the wrong side of the door. Yes, in spite of every intention to take out the trash the night before, I'd have fallen asleep rather spontaneously, leaving the things in mute expectation of my unrequited chore, inviting violence and humiliation instead.
Okay, so that happened this morning, obviously without the life gps. Instead of the life-affirming tones of the handy life gps guiding me toward my ill-fated keys at the time of my exhausted stupor (about 5am), I passed out in absolute silence. At 10am, my youngest neighbor wildly energized me by opening my door (while I was talking on the phone in bed, naked) in order to kindly leave my keys inside my apartment without knocking first. I think I said something like, "WHOA! WHOA!"
Okay, so in a more perfect world the life gps finds my damn keys and sends me to go do stuff. It's all perfect as long as I don't rebel. If I rebel she gets lost and eventually loses the satellite connection. Is this all sounding a tad like The Schedulers? It's life, in any case, and when you don't pay attention to the small voice it eventually loses connection to divinity - the great satellite in the sky. I certainly think so. The Schedulers haven't gone anywhere, btw. They throw bones of information all the time.
Maybe I'm inspired. I suddenly feel like writing more than, say, cleaning. Of course, if I wanted to just write, I would start cleaning or - hamster that I am - I'd check my email, and that newslink. Or the other link. But the life gps would catch me.
The life gps would watch me run off to Ebay and go, "RECALCULATE" every time I wasn't writing shimmering prose. She'd know I wasn't blogging on MySpace when I click the ex-boyfriend's profile. RECALCULATE. It's going to haunt me. My higher self found a palpable voice.
The first time I encountered a GPS was with Jon Ward who used it for scavenger hunting. Later, the Wards brought me along on one of their wine hunting expeditions in the south of England, where we got to choose celebrity voices for the GPS. I really liked the Ozzy Osbourne one who says bad words.
Mine is too cheap to speak street names, but it's better than crashing with a printed google map in my right hand. At least now I won't make so many wrong turns or pay too much for the gps in rental cars. A five day gps rental pretty much costs the same as buying one. Thank you Andrew Freeman for inspiring me to take the dive into GPS land. Andrew was my favorite KKProjects person. He was absolutely invaluable for the TIL DEATH DO YOU PART installation for the biennial in New Orleans this year. My love of the gps emerged from this experience, overbuying fabric and Party City items.
Oh, and while I'm on the New Orleans experience, a nice review of Sex Crimes appeared in the newspaper. Thank you, David Cuthbert (Times Picayune) and Jim Fitzmorris for meddling. Shout outs to Miss Nicole for descending on her own dime to bail me out of electronic solitude and rocking onstage (as well as bizarre performances offstage involving household items), Billie for faithfully smoothing out the neurosis, Zalia for great tech even when I was a mess, and Dennis/Kristen/Jeff/Ben from The New Orleans Fringe Festival for a beautifully run event.
Okay. I'm done blogging now. And I know where my keys are.
Night Night.
