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Type Research Diary — part 6

As this is a diary, I will allow myself a small rant.

This concerns me, who have gotten too used to working in a certain way, and computers, which have accustomed me to working that way.

If the term prosthetic memory means nothing to you, here is a short explanation: it is a device you use to extend the recollective function of your brain. In the past, this would have been a dictaphone, a piece of paper, an elephant you keep under your desk to remember things for you. I also have a grey beast lurking under mine. Not only is it a prosthetic to my memory, it also extends my abilities in other areas.

About a month ago, this useful monster took ill, as some of those who read me on Facebook may have come to realise. After a few shops, we finally found a group of benevolent witch- doctkrs willing and able to heal the ailing animal. Their price is of course exhorbitant, but their services, once rendered will prove invaluable.

Will prove, as the winter snow has done more than disrupt the Christmas flight pattern of Homo Sapiens Sapiens, it also seems to have forced vital electronic organs into hibernation. As I sit and hammer this out on a virtual keyboard, a graphics card is not being delivered on time. So I wait.

Why do I wait? Notes can be taken on paper, data can be collected, compiled and compared by hand. Surely, ten years of digital work have not robbed you of the ability to write, mein herr?

I do not think that I have lost the ability to write a few lines and then transcribe these into a digital format. What has happened, however, is that I havr grown very used to having not only the facts at my disposal, but also the ability to collar them efficiently into easy- to- copy spreadsheets, allowing for a quick transition from data to design. I don't see why I should have to do thus more than once.

As much as I enjoy working in the analogue and trying to decipher quick, hand- writ notes, given the growing amount of data I am faced with, everything in me is screaming to go digital and analyse in that mode. To turn all the human interaction I have had in the course of this project into a string of ones and ohs, which can then be manipulated at whim and will, with the luxury of undo.

I sat down and tried doing this the old- fashioned way a couple of nights ago. I sat down on my sofa- cum- study, lit a ceremonial candle and began to listen and write. Two pages of notes, time- stamps and remarks later, it strikes me that this is a waste of paper.

This rant ends now. For those of you who made it this far, you will find posters trouveés in relation to this research here: carambolage.tumblr.com/

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