Moments before a class, when we could be conversing with unknown classmates — interacting — we see people with their ears plugged, iPodded from the world.

In our modern landscape of pixilated images, neon messages, cellular interruptions, hordes of strangers and electronic gods, our desire for escape is, understandably, escalating.

Binary webs keep our thoughts tangled and fragmented. We seek serenity — a moment of clarity where everything is muted. Contradictorily, we do this by twisting the volume knob on our mini jukeboxes to full blast.

Sound to counter sound, or distraction versus distraction.

Our MP3 players assist our thoughts, guiding us down mental corridors otherwise cloaked by our army of technology. A group of artists and we carry on intimate conversations in our minds’ isolated lounges.

When we silence the social noise, we can begin to think outside programming.
The irony is inescapable: we use a form of machinery to combat another. But this is what it has come to, and it doesn’t seem surprising that these seclusion-inducing gadgets also induce the expression of feelings that may have gone otherwise unarticulated.

We show love, anger, wit — we even break up — via text-messaging or other “mediated” devices. True feelings made communicable easier via technological messengers. But does text and audio technology serve as emotional catalyzers for feelings previously repressed, or do they simply shift sentimental communication from physical to virtual?

We certainly seem to be replacing one another with silicon and electricity. Moments before a class, when we could be conversing with unknown classmates — interacting — we see people with their ears plugged, iPodded from the world. Instead of sex, we have virtual sex (webcams plus Skype), vibrators, manufactured vaginas, software that emulates conversations with horny partners. Instead of meeting for a conversation we call, IM or text. Opposed to saying hello to a stranger, we visit dating sites. It seems easier to reach for epiphanies when we drown out humans around us and plug our ears with headphones. Maybe we just want to shut down from the world completely.

There was a time when music was mainly a shared art, even a tool to revolution. People gathered at jazz clubs and concert halls to experience art together. But in a time where “music sharing” is so discussed, practiced and feared, it seems rather ironic that we would be swapping audio files, but ultimately sharing nothing.

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