I’m back at work today, still a bit jet-lagged. Others have been posting about what I’ve been up to, here, here, here and here. It was a fun and fascinating trip, and worth several posts, which I expect I’ll put up here over the next few days.

I notice that both Jennifer and AKMA (who actually does go by that name in 3-D life, even though it always reminds me of those tasty crackers) emphasize the real flesh-and-blood quality of the experience even though it was brought on by the ethereal medium of the Internet. The fact is, I have way more fleshly friends now than I had after three years of living in L.A. and struggling to meet people through the usual social spots. Much of today’s communication technologies, in fact, seem to be counteracting the socially atomizing effects of the technologies that came before them. I’m not sure what the larger implications of that are, but it has certainly made my life a lot more enjoyable.

Actually, two separate events on the trip got me to thinking about the importance and the limitations of modern technology. On Monday Dash, Dwight, Troy and I went to a huge Benedictine monastery in St. Cloud that is working on a new hand-made Bible. The creators are using the same materials as the medieval monks — vellum pages with inks made of lapus lazuli, vermilion and so on. Yet this is not really a nostalgia project, because the pictures are actually quite modern-looking. In the short film describing the project, it was explained that these were simply the best materials to use, especially if you want your Bible to last as long as the medieval ones that still survive. The paper and ink used in books today are designed for cheapness and volume, not beauty and endurance.

St. John’s certainly thinks it’s making history here. During our visit we watched a presentation by an adorably earnest young college student who compared it to the Great Pyramid of Giza, the Sistine Chapel and probably the Great Wall of China. Although his solemnity was a bit dampened by having us taking up the front row. Showing us the picture of the creation of the world, he asked, “What do you think the bird shape in the middle looks like?”

“Dove,” said Dash.
“Raven,” I said.
“Arctic tern,” said Troy.
“Is that a right-hand tern or a left-hand tern?” said Dwight.

Anyway, the other rather premodern element of the book is that, while it basically grew out of the dream of its artistic director to one day hand-write a Bible, it is not a work of one man’s personal vision. There’s a whole group of artists working on it, and their ideas have to pass theological muster with the Benedictines before they go into print. It’s not in the modern paradigm of individual genius, but I thought it came out looking pretty cool.

The other event was when Dash took me back to her home after my weekend in Chicago, and we found that someone had climbed in a window, picked up my empty suitcase, packed it with every piece of electronic equipment he could find, and left by the back door. The burglar had, fortunately, not trashed the house or harmed the cats, but seemed strictly interested in economic gain.

I wonder, though, how much he actually gained for it. Dash’s laptop was four years old, and though she paid handsomely for it I am told (and I believe it) that computers depreciate at around one percent a week, and so after a few years people have to pay to get rid of them. (Some friends joked that they have computers that they’d like to have stolen.) The other electronics were similarly on the verge of obsolescence — my personal CD player that cost all of 35 bucks thanks to mp3 competition, Dash’s dual cassette deck, etc. Yet he left untouched the most valuable thing in the house, Dash’s violin — a family heirloom worth thousands, and prominently displayed on the sideboard. The cop said that fortunately, young thieves often don’t realize what is truly valuable. I wonder, though, if even the young thieves are finding that technology is moving too fast for them. Within my lifetime, home electronics have always been prime burglary targets because they are expensive and portable, and yet thanks to rapid upgrades and cheap Chinese manufacturing, they are rapidly losing that status. There’s something reassuring, in a way, that the handcrafted piece of ancient technology has only increased in value as the new gadgets have decreased. I’m sure the Benedictines would appreciate it.

In any case, Dash had insurance and even an extra suitcase she could give to me, so it was no catastrophe. But it was frightening and disturbing to have one’s home invaded, so I hope you will all keep her in your prayers, as well as the thief, whose situation is probably far more desperate.