I didn't yet know that you don't live on an Ivy League campus. You reside on one. Living is loud and messy, but residing? Residing is quiet business. [...]
I soon realized that silence was more than the absence of noise; it was an aesthetic to be revered. Yet it was an aesthetic at odds with who I was. Who a lot of us were.
Within a few weeks, the comfort that I and many of my fellow minority students had felt during those early cacophonous days had been eroded, one chastisement at a time. The passive-aggressive signals to wind our gatherings down were replaced by point-blank requests to make less noise, have less fun, do our living somewhere else, even though these rooms belonged to us, too. A boisterous conversation would lead to a classmate knocking on the door with a "Please quiet down." A laugh that went a bit too loud or long in a computer cluster would be met with an admonishment.
In those moments, I felt hot with shame and anger, yet unable to articulate why. It took me years to understand that, in demanding my friends and I quiet down, these students were implying that their comfort superseded our joy. And in acquiescing, I accepted that.
Why Do Rich People Love Quiet?
The sound of gentrification is silence.
Smells like a phone call that should have been an email
Archive of Lost Objects:
- They are life-sized replicas of old electronics.
- They aren't funny, except in the sense that it is funny to decorate your home with obsolete electronics, while also underscoring their impermanence by setting them on fire.
- They are unscented, even though it would have been funny if we had made them smell like melting plastic.
From the people who brought you the NFT-scented candle.
Tags: art, blobs, mad science, retrocomputing
Current Music: Curve -- Unreadable Communication ♬