It was some time ago now that I was untimely ripped from the grid and nearly disappearred entirely from the web. No big loss to most, to be sure, but a bit of a jolt to me.
“Jenny Cool, are you out there?,” his subject line read.
The rupture was neither complete, nor unexpected. In many ways it was delightful to see my “return from the field” mirrored by this retreat from the net, and especially the web, where for years it would’ve been easy to locate me with a single i’m-feeling-lucky click.
But it was also unsettling. Web death I thought. No, not some kind of mass-scribbling à la Blair Newman removing all his Well postings in an act of virtual suicide followed, weeks later, with his suicide IRL (Rheingold’s account). It was nevertheless, partially the result of deliberate neglect.
It was a letting go, a retreat from a decade of wired-weirdness and weird-wiredness.
Not that anyone was watching at this point in the long good-bye. It took about four months for anyone to ping me with the news that I had disappeared from view.
Cyborganic ported to a new server about a year ago. Trusty boxes xanadu and erewhon went offline at 11:59 PM on Friday May 23, 2003. Now the switchover went pretty damn smoothly, all praise to Cybotech, but my entire web directory remained .tgz somewhere invisible and unknown to me, my efforts to reach it thwarted by disconnection.
The untimely rippage of another box from its rack at Hurricane Electric knocked out coolstudios.com and voilà, web silence.
And’s that’s right about the time I started writing here with no clear plan, but a deep, intransitive need to transmit. Better send out something on my frequencies lest web death feedback IRL.