I intend today’s post to be as dull as possible. Regular readers will know I am up to the challenge.
‘Dull’ is the new black. Sometimes, we will surf the internet to wipe out the stresses of excess information. We can find sites that are reassuring because they lack perception, insight and evidence of meaningful activity.
‘WILFing ’is a label, created by media types who make sure new acronyms are as dull as possible. Standing for, ‘What was I looking for?’, it suggests we spend up to ten hours a week wasting time on the internet. A fair proportion of ‘wilf-time’ includes browsing dull web-sites.
Recently, a man spent thirteen days submerged under water in a ‘bio-sub’. He expected ‘solitude and got the opposite’. Lloyd Godson, a professional scuba diver, won the Australian Geographic ‘Live Your Dream’ Wildest Adventure Competition. His dream was to survive underwater; his nightmare was the constant surveillance.
Thousands followed his life on the live web feed, watching him survive in a dark, three-meter cubicle by riding an exercise bike and urinating on algae. The lack of variety and the unusual setting were powerful enticements for surfers seeking an antidote to over-stimulation. It was like owning a tank of tropical fish but without any messy responsibilities.
It is pure social liberty – if we select every aspect of our lives, we have the right to generate our own boredom.
Scheduled dullness is an oppressive act. Having a TV channel constantly broadcasting boring programmes is pure, psychological torture and is unacceptable (unless that is its remit). However, if a kid decides he’d like to spend a quick ten minutes checking the latest urine to algae ratio, he is exercising his right to seek out pure tedium.
Similarly, the growth of Web 2.0 will please unfocused leisure-seekers. Let the following, user-generated descriptions wash over you, secure in the knowledge that they are free of insight.
As you read, maybe treat yourself to a Jaffa Cake.
‘Today, in a high stakes poker game, I played a hand so badly, I will be surviving on a sand-based diet.’
‘As I sipped the latte, I deliberately let my eyes linger on the soft lower lip of the barista. She will be mine, I thought, as I realised it was not my coffee.’
‘Today, I cleared my workstation of pens. The desk was cluttered and, as I gathered the pens, I felt an itch. I paused to scratch my knee. I felt waves of gentle nostalgia as I recalled how I used to scratch my knee as a child.’
As dull as those examples are, surely it is the third paragraph that inspires the most grateful of head nodding by the reader.
For both writer and reader, it provides mutually assured distraction. It offers reassurance, a glimpse of the banal, and it is an acknowledgement of a kindred humanity. The other examples elicit complicated emotions – ‘Ah Christ, I’m expected to engage or sympathise,’ - but the snapshot of knee-scratching asks nothing of the reader and is thus somewhat liberating in the information age.
It also says, ‘Here is a fellow just like me. I don’t have to compete with him and he is not highlighting a life that will make me feel either inferior or superior. I think I have an itchy knee’
Bombarded by information, consumers are scratching their heads. Their refuge from overload is provided by dull web-sites and it is a positive sign for the future. It is an indicator that people will not be spoon-fed notions of how to spend their lives. It is part of the reason the cry of ‘get a life’ now seems so outdated: by wilfully becoming bored, we won’t be goal-oriented automatons.
So, now that my knee is no longer itchy and my desk is free of clutter, I’m off to wash my face. The activity will take place in a twelve-foot bathroom, sadly not covered by the internet, but rest assured that I appreciate the demand for dull writing and will think of ways in which to share some of the less memorable moments. The subsequent post will cloud an otherwise exciting day.
* For anyone interested, here is the ‘bio-sub’ - http://www.biosub.com.au
‘Dull’ is the new black. Sometimes, we will surf the internet to wipe out the stresses of excess information. We can find sites that are reassuring because they lack perception, insight and evidence of meaningful activity.
‘WILFing ’is a label, created by media types who make sure new acronyms are as dull as possible. Standing for, ‘What was I looking for?’, it suggests we spend up to ten hours a week wasting time on the internet. A fair proportion of ‘wilf-time’ includes browsing dull web-sites.
Recently, a man spent thirteen days submerged under water in a ‘bio-sub’. He expected ‘solitude and got the opposite’. Lloyd Godson, a professional scuba diver, won the Australian Geographic ‘Live Your Dream’ Wildest Adventure Competition. His dream was to survive underwater; his nightmare was the constant surveillance.
Thousands followed his life on the live web feed, watching him survive in a dark, three-meter cubicle by riding an exercise bike and urinating on algae. The lack of variety and the unusual setting were powerful enticements for surfers seeking an antidote to over-stimulation. It was like owning a tank of tropical fish but without any messy responsibilities.
It is pure social liberty – if we select every aspect of our lives, we have the right to generate our own boredom.
Scheduled dullness is an oppressive act. Having a TV channel constantly broadcasting boring programmes is pure, psychological torture and is unacceptable (unless that is its remit). However, if a kid decides he’d like to spend a quick ten minutes checking the latest urine to algae ratio, he is exercising his right to seek out pure tedium.
Similarly, the growth of Web 2.0 will please unfocused leisure-seekers. Let the following, user-generated descriptions wash over you, secure in the knowledge that they are free of insight.
As you read, maybe treat yourself to a Jaffa Cake.
‘Today, in a high stakes poker game, I played a hand so badly, I will be surviving on a sand-based diet.’
‘As I sipped the latte, I deliberately let my eyes linger on the soft lower lip of the barista. She will be mine, I thought, as I realised it was not my coffee.’
‘Today, I cleared my workstation of pens. The desk was cluttered and, as I gathered the pens, I felt an itch. I paused to scratch my knee. I felt waves of gentle nostalgia as I recalled how I used to scratch my knee as a child.’
As dull as those examples are, surely it is the third paragraph that inspires the most grateful of head nodding by the reader.
For both writer and reader, it provides mutually assured distraction. It offers reassurance, a glimpse of the banal, and it is an acknowledgement of a kindred humanity. The other examples elicit complicated emotions – ‘Ah Christ, I’m expected to engage or sympathise,’ - but the snapshot of knee-scratching asks nothing of the reader and is thus somewhat liberating in the information age.
It also says, ‘Here is a fellow just like me. I don’t have to compete with him and he is not highlighting a life that will make me feel either inferior or superior. I think I have an itchy knee’
Bombarded by information, consumers are scratching their heads. Their refuge from overload is provided by dull web-sites and it is a positive sign for the future. It is an indicator that people will not be spoon-fed notions of how to spend their lives. It is part of the reason the cry of ‘get a life’ now seems so outdated: by wilfully becoming bored, we won’t be goal-oriented automatons.
So, now that my knee is no longer itchy and my desk is free of clutter, I’m off to wash my face. The activity will take place in a twelve-foot bathroom, sadly not covered by the internet, but rest assured that I appreciate the demand for dull writing and will think of ways in which to share some of the less memorable moments. The subsequent post will cloud an otherwise exciting day.
* For anyone interested, here is the ‘bio-sub’ - http://www.biosub.com.au
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