[Nettime-bold] NOTHING WORSE

[Tom Sherman <twsherma@mailbox.syr.edu>]

THERE IS NOTHING WORSE THAN INFORMATION THAT DOESN'T MOVE

One morning I was destroyed by the sound of silence.  For all practical
purposes, my in-box was empty.  I sat motionless in front of my screen.  
There were copies of messages for other people.  There was movement, a
busy sense of exchange in the world outside.  But I am not a part of this
movement.  I am frozen.  I am static.  The world spins around me.

I send out countless messages and only a few come back answered.  This
morning there is nothing.  I've got information to share, but nobody wants
it.  I've collected and processed rich fields of data.  I've discovered a
wealth of information, things other people can use, things that can really
make a difference.  But there are no takers.

I have a site with zero traffic.  If I could just get people to visit, I'm
sure they would want to hang around.  I put all this energy into my
information, the way it looks, its composition and depth.  There is real
utility and value in my product.  It isn't the same old information you
will find in a million other places.  My site is different.  If I could
just get people to see my site is different, and to value this difference.

That's my problem.  People don't want to be different these days.  They
want to be part of something bigger, that certain sameness.  They want to
move, like everyone else.  They want to belong to the movement, to the
spinning world outside.  If you want to move you have to be streamlined.  
Any difference is a drag.  It's a point of friction, of real resistance.  
Don't dare to be different if you want to move.  If you want to go with
the flow, you've got to be stream-lined, you've got to be smooth.

I don't fit in.  The world spins around me.  Everything I touch seems to
stop in its tracks.  I get ideas.  I move on these ideas.  I make things.  
They look good.  They speak to me.  I put these things out there.  They
just sit.  They are still-born.  It's like they start to crawl, and then
they freeze.

I know there are people out there that can use my things.  I know I have
information, valuable information, that people want and need.  I just
can't reach these people.  I can't find them.  They don't know I exist.  
They are somewhere out there beyond the spinning, busy world.  Somewhere,
out there, there are other people who sit still and watch the world spin
around.  They are like me.  They too make information that doesn't move.


Tom Sherman

http://www.allquiet.org/





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