Where we breathe

Before there was the Worldwide Web, there was the WELL, the Whole Earth 'Lectronic Link, an online community that served the technophiles of the Bay Area through a network of text bulletin boards and other services delivered over slow phone modems. It was a little slow, a little clunky, and highly geeky, but it had one advantage that has been lost in the online explosion since--it "mapped" onto a terrestrial community--it created an analog of where its participants lived, and was deeply involved with its issues and objectives.

I was an early fan of the WELL, reading about it in CoEvolution Quarterly. Ever since I first became involved in creating websites, I wanted to work in countertrend to the fragmentation and placelessness that characterized the new online world. In particular, I wanted to build a place within the web that corresponded to where I actually lived. I saw the traditional infrastructure that maintained my community falling apart, the informal network of churches and social clubs, local news in print and broadcast in decline, the increased busy-ness of workers and the corresponding decrease of community volunteers. If my work online served only to further distract people from the places where they made their lives, I would be part of the problem.

In the decade or more since, that fragmentation has only grown, and communities-- particularly small ones--struggle ever harder to keep together civic life. While the new online social tools dubbed "Web 2.0" have done amazing things in creating communities of affinity, I still look forward to a "Web 3.0" to serve our communities of residence. That's the place where we breathe the air.

Lean Regime

We would all have been living long since in communal Utopia, I am convinced, were it possible to share a kitchen without friction. As things stand, Middle East peace seems to be a less ambitious goal than kitchen comity. I have been through many schemes in a long career of communal home and work kitchens, each fine in theory, each, uhh--suboptimal in execution. There was the short-lived Procrustean democracy of seventies socialist living: from each, regardless of talent; to each, because it’s Thursday. Fasting also came into vogue about then, as I recall.

Work kitchens seem to cycle though a number of states, from Spartan disuse to competitive group force-feeding. But in all these states, domestic tranquility founders on the rock of cleaning up. It is a law of nature that at least one user will scatter food litter with the casual aplomb of a giraffe browsing the treetops, and another will always be just about to wash the dishes he/she left to soak in the sink. There will always be ancient mystery food in the fridge, waiting for someone to have the courage to pop the lid before the gases of decomposition do the job for him. These issues have once again led to an ardent round of station email, and to yet another ingenious peace plan--anything dirty will be disappeared. The Junta Plan, I call it. The kitchen, now containing many fewer items, does indeed look cleaner. But the day is not far off, I fear, when I will be stirring sugar into a mayonnaise jar full of coffee with a plastic fork.