Although I remain enthusiastic about the Internet, I’m also increasingly a Net agnostic.

What is happening is that I’m finding my natural Net rhythm, which is like settling into the orbit of Pluto instead of Mercury. From afar I’m seeing more and more spinning at the Internet’s center, and finding myself as if I’m in a centrifuge spun out to the edge. This partially explains the recent slower pace at Mediacology. For the moment I’ve lost the drive and enthusiasm I had when I first started blogging five years ago. Back then I was excited and energetic to post everyday, and was pretty prolific in the beginning. I also had dreams of blog fame and a second income. Having let go of these delusions (and hence the simplified design of my current layout), I’m feeling more comfortable letting things come when they are ready, and resting when I need to.

I’ve been a Web explorer since the early Mosaic days, which seems like a century ago in Web time (I think I first surfed the Web in 1993). I’m now starting to feel like the Internet’s Wild West is about to be settled by the telegraph, railroad and empowered sheriffs who have the might of international treaties to start clamping down and moving folks who don’t conform to the old paradigm of intellectual property onto reservations.

Not surprisingly, this mirrors many other struggles going on as the public good faces an amped up process of enclosure. For example, last week I facilitated a panel that looked at the neoliberal threat against the cultural commons and could see how similar the fight for the commons is across all sectors of society. Among us we discussed the enclosure of food and water systems, public spaces like parks, homelessness, and education. You could add to the list DNA and GMOs. The theme was consistent: we have faced a radical turn in which more and more of our shared spaces are being privatized in the name of what Marx called “primitive accumulation.” The “state of exception” which allows democratic societies to violate their own principles in the name of wartime emergencies (such as excluding Native Americans from the same rights afforded to whites) is increasingly becoming the norm as rights are quietly whittled away in the name of national security and intellectual property.

In terms of the Net, my biggest concern is the use of anti-piracy/counterfeiting laws to privatize civil complaints. Rather than go through the legal system to request warrants and to file official complaints against so-called pirates, entertainment companies are requiring Internet providers to police their customers and to cut off access when violations are detected. The Economist reports that there is piracy detection software in beta that can identify a single frame of a copyrighted film. With such detection bots roaming the net, will they be able to distinguish between fair use and legitimate piracy? I think not. It’s a return to Napoleonic law in which you are guilty until proven innocent. And who has the might to fight Comcast or Time-Warner? A while back I posted a short clip on YouTube from Saturday Night Live that I wanted my students to comment on for class. YouTube pulled it because it violated user terms. To Google’s credit, they have an appeals process in which I could make a fair use claim. As a result, in the end the video was restored, but I imagine it took a human to intervene. What happens when we automate the policing of the Net, let alone the tracking of people’s behaviors and relationships? Facebook anyone?

I continue to use the Internet for teaching and often post copyrighted media for students to comment on. I’m thankful that this has made teaching more interesting and accessible to wider groups of people. In the past year, however, I have found it more difficult to do so. My YouTube channel has dozens of playlists with videos I use for teaching. Often I create playlists as I’m teaching a course, only to find out the following semester that half the videos I posted are no longer available. As a fallback position I use the Firefox plug-in Easy YouTube Downloader to get “hard copies” of the videos so that I have access to them for later use. This has saved me on several occasions. So though I appreciate the plethora of media available to me (far more than five years ago), I feel like the moment is very tenuous. I don’t know how much longer this will go on.

I’m also feeling agnostic about social networks. I have Twitter and Facebook accounts, but have not been able to develop the habit of engaging them. I’ve heard all kind of praise for Twitter, but it simply makes my eyes go cross. I understand and appreciate why people like it, but I think I’m too old school to really get it. Facebook is the same. I dip my toe in it here and there, but the stream mostly passes me by. Sometimes I like the linkages it makes for me, but for the most part I feel pretty disengaged. In all honesty, I’m not into getting poked all the time.

The same goes with the Web in general. For a writer, researcher, activist and educator it is, of course, invaluable. But I also find that I don’t use it that much except when there is something I need. Unlike the early days of the Web when surfing was a novel experience, I get overloaded very quickly. But then again, the same goes for museums and galleries. I can only look at art for an hour before my brain gets fried. Literally. Processing nerve stimulus takes energy, be it art or the umpteenth Website on ecological pedagogy (though when I’m less tired, I’m sure glad these sites are there).

Additionally I find that I don’t like to chat too much with SMS, though sometimes I find it very convenient. The thing is, when I’m on the computer I’m either reading or writing and I don’t like to be interrupted. For the life of me I don’t understand why people post their Skype names on their Websites. Who in the world wants to get so many phone calls? And when it comes to texting, I’m all thumbs.

As I’m writing this I get the sense that maybe I’m coming across as a bit of a selfish netizen. I’m aware of the spiritual precept that manifestation follows intention and attention. You get back what you put in. I certainly cherish the interactivity and exchange that has facilitated new friendships on the Net, many invaluable. It doesn’t have to be either/or, but this and that. Nonetheless, remaining centered in the cosmos is hard enough; maintaining an extended self in the Net is that much more to deal with.

Finally, I like walking and riding bikes without the electronic tether. I enjoy unpredictability and minor amounts of chaos that comes along with not knowing everything about everybody at every moment. Sometimes there’s a benefit to opacity.

I know I’m particular and of a certain age which makes me un-enamored with these digital tools. As an old punk, I tend to prefer zine making as an early form of Web publishing and blogging. What is different for me now is that I miss the tactility of tabletop publishing. I like getting glue and ink on my fingers, and cutting things with scissors and holding something in my hands. I admit that blogging and the community around WordPress does remind me a bit of the zine days, and there are times when blogging and networking does get me excited like the good ol’ days of Xerox lore. The thing I love about blogging is that I can instantaneously publish what I’m thinking about, which gives me a sketchpad for longer, more thoughtful passages that end up in long-form essays and books.

No one is telling me to do any of these things, though I do feel a little peer pressure that I should like Facebook and Twitter. I’m not trying to be a village atheist, but rather am finding a middle way in which the tool is here and available, but at the same time without attachment. This constitutes my current thinking about what it means to be a Net agnostic.

I don’t mean for this missive to be solemn or sad, just a respite from an exhausting information haul. I’m still here, I still care. I’m just taking my time, pacing a long walk, slowing down a bit so as to not get too caught up in the frenzied tornado of the Network Society.

BTW, if you read past the fold and got this far, thanks! I certainly no longer have the patience to read this far.