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It was a good weekend, but I have a cold now. I'm not quite sure what this is down to, although I'm inclined to blame getting caught in the rain yesterday more than anything else. I'm in work all the same, snuffling and sneezing, and being told to keep away from people. The coughing has stopped, though, and my throat is getting less sore, so I think the Immune System of Doom is doing its thing.
The Medieval Fair was better than I had expected - there were tradespeople and re-enactors, and we met a very nice guy from the SCA, too. We did go about making contact with one of the other re-enactment groups too - Mullacht an Torc, or somesuch - but the guy in charge was so unpleasant that we decided to avoid them. The central events were OK, for the most part - archers who were competent if not as good as the Warwick Bowman from the weekend before, falconry, which we didn't pay that much attention to, and jousting, which looked cool but was a bit hammed up. And then there was the Medieval Baebes concert, plus signing, which was well worth waiting for. They were really really good.
I got a pair of leather bracers, and resisted the urge to buy everything else in sight, including pairs of gorgeous knuckle to elbow gauntlet/bracer things, which were just too expensive. I also spent quite some time watching the smiths there working - they had everything set up in proper medieval fashion, down to the coals on the ground with air pumped in through a clay tunnel from bellows. I was more than a bit fascinated.
There were a fair few people there in full kit, too - not just the people working there, but a good few of the attendants, down to one family of four who had two huge, gorgeous wolfhounds with them.
The Medieval Fair was better than I had expected - there were tradespeople and re-enactors, and we met a very nice guy from the SCA, too. We did go about making contact with one of the other re-enactment groups too - Mullacht an Torc, or somesuch - but the guy in charge was so unpleasant that we decided to avoid them. The central events were OK, for the most part - archers who were competent if not as good as the Warwick Bowman from the weekend before, falconry, which we didn't pay that much attention to, and jousting, which looked cool but was a bit hammed up. And then there was the Medieval Baebes concert, plus signing, which was well worth waiting for. They were really really good.
I got a pair of leather bracers, and resisted the urge to buy everything else in sight, including pairs of gorgeous knuckle to elbow gauntlet/bracer things, which were just too expensive. I also spent quite some time watching the smiths there working - they had everything set up in proper medieval fashion, down to the coals on the ground with air pumped in through a clay tunnel from bellows. I was more than a bit fascinated.
There were a fair few people there in full kit, too - not just the people working there, but a good few of the attendants, down to one family of four who had two huge, gorgeous wolfhounds with them.
This idea's not mine; it's from a copy of Wired Magazine from a few years ago, when Wired was still new and shiny and offbeat.
Basically, it goes like this. We're approaching an economy where money, subsistence-stuff, abstract-of-labour, is not that important any more. If the world was organised right, we could all live perfectly comfortably doing about four hours work a week. Obviously, that's not the case, but the fact remains that in the West, we just don't have to put in the amount of sheer EFFORT that our ancestors did.
People still need a medium of exchange, though. For a long time, money has been more than a way to get food and shelter, it's been a way of keeping score. We're starting to see the switch, for score-keeping purposes, from money to fame. We equate one with the other - someone rich MUST be famous, someone famous MUST be rich. We ignore the fact that we're talking about two different kinds of wealth here, as nobody knows the name of the guys who have the Swiss bank accounts, and celebrities declare bankruptcy all the time.
The way we measure this wealth is in attention, in eyeball-minutes, if you like. Somone looking at me (or my work, or my journal, which is me for purposes of this) for an hour is more valuable than someone who looks for a minute. Sixty people looking for one minute each may be more valuable, especially if some of them mention me to friends.
Then there's the second tier of attention, which is based on the fact that the attention of attention-wealthy people is better than the attention of attention-poor people. If you discover that Neil Gaiman is reading your journal, or Warren Ellis, you're far more pleased than if you discover that Sean Nolan is. It's more valuable because they reflect attention onto you. We can see this in Oprah's book club, when it existed. Oprah (one of the attention-wealthiest people in the world) said "I'm reading this", and thousands of people went out and bought the book. She could have directed that attention at any book, down to Ann & Barry Go To The Sea, and people would have bought it in droves.
This means that the people to whom we pay attention benefit from it. They gain attention-wealth - not just one eyeball-minute, but if we're any way famous, in the small way that journallers can be - ten, or a hundred.
So, what I'm finally driving at is: by responding to people, by thinking about them, by giving them attention, you're making them wealthy. And I want to think a little more about who I want to pay that attention to, sometimes.
Basically, it goes like this. We're approaching an economy where money, subsistence-stuff, abstract-of-labour, is not that important any more. If the world was organised right, we could all live perfectly comfortably doing about four hours work a week. Obviously, that's not the case, but the fact remains that in the West, we just don't have to put in the amount of sheer EFFORT that our ancestors did.
People still need a medium of exchange, though. For a long time, money has been more than a way to get food and shelter, it's been a way of keeping score. We're starting to see the switch, for score-keeping purposes, from money to fame. We equate one with the other - someone rich MUST be famous, someone famous MUST be rich. We ignore the fact that we're talking about two different kinds of wealth here, as nobody knows the name of the guys who have the Swiss bank accounts, and celebrities declare bankruptcy all the time.
The way we measure this wealth is in attention, in eyeball-minutes, if you like. Somone looking at me (or my work, or my journal, which is me for purposes of this) for an hour is more valuable than someone who looks for a minute. Sixty people looking for one minute each may be more valuable, especially if some of them mention me to friends.
Then there's the second tier of attention, which is based on the fact that the attention of attention-wealthy people is better than the attention of attention-poor people. If you discover that Neil Gaiman is reading your journal, or Warren Ellis, you're far more pleased than if you discover that Sean Nolan is. It's more valuable because they reflect attention onto you. We can see this in Oprah's book club, when it existed. Oprah (one of the attention-wealthiest people in the world) said "I'm reading this", and thousands of people went out and bought the book. She could have directed that attention at any book, down to Ann & Barry Go To The Sea, and people would have bought it in droves.
This means that the people to whom we pay attention benefit from it. They gain attention-wealth - not just one eyeball-minute, but if we're any way famous, in the small way that journallers can be - ten, or a hundred.
So, what I'm finally driving at is: by responding to people, by thinking about them, by giving them attention, you're making them wealthy. And I want to think a little more about who I want to pay that attention to, sometimes.
.