Dopp Juice Archive

The power went out last night. The hums and clicks of our television, our lightbulbs, our computers, our refrigerator, and our mind-numbing sense of technological tranquility all snapped off with a loud “ZZZ!” For the first time in San Francisco, I experienced silence. My first instinct was panic. My second was relief. Just sitting here at this computer screen right now (the power’s back, by the way), I have five browser tabs open to two email accounts, a google search, a news site, and this blog. I am fully and completely sucked into this cyber world of mental masturbation. But if the power went out again right now, I’d be forced to rub my eyes and go outside. Read a book. Communicate with people. Move. They say that families of alcoholics usually have a chief enabler — someone who makes it possible for the alcoholic to continue his or her destructive cycle. Pacific Gas and Electric (PG&E) is my chief enabler. My booze is the mind-numbing accessibility of everything on the web. It tricks me into thinking I’m being a productive member of society, but I remember the truth when the power goes out: I left my body and the outside world behind a long time ago. The interesting thing is, I’m not even that bad off (phase 1: denial). At least I limit my obsession to the internet. Walking around the city or this college campus, it’s rare to find someone without their ear connected to an iPod or a cellphone. These are completely antisocial devices — at least when you consider your geographic location. Yes, cellphones enable you to talk to whomever you want, whenever you want, but they also alienate the person standing next to you. And don’t get me started on the isolating effects of portable music players. With our technological revolution, we’re systematically pushing away and transforming our sense of reality. We need a leader — a highly respected organization that can steer us back to practical living. But for now, Iet’s just settle for the Backstreet Boys. They were playing a concert when a power outage hit Tuesday night. In a pitch-black room full of fans, they pulled out a megaphone and sang a capella.