....on the subject of technology (tekmology?)

I feel like rambling a bit today. You'll have to excuse me. I guess I'm just a little excited about the fact that I'm right now "blogging" from the friendly confines of the My Brightest Diamond van. I'm riding shotgun, Brian is in the driver's seat, and James and Shara are in the way back taking a nice little nap. I'm online because James, in his infinite logistical wisdom, was sharp enough to secure a portable wireless router, thereby giving us the ability to be online essentially all the freggin' time. As we speak, I'm typing this, talking to Oliver and Sam and Adam on AIM, and checking my myspace like a total dork.

We are also equipped on this tour with our own GPS system in the van. Whereas Nuno's GPS unit in Europe garnered the nickname of Cynthia, this unit has aptly been given the monaker of Gertrude. I don't know how we settled on Gertrude, but I'm quite happy about it, because my niece's middle name is Gertrude. For whatever reason, we chose the Australian accent for her voice. Apparently the hard consonant sounds in the yankee dialect were too piercing, and the brit voice was altogether obnoxious. Go figure.

I took my first shift at piloting our ship today, and used Gertrude for the first time. As I followed her commands and made my way up the eastern seaboard from Philly to Massachusetts, I started thinking about the existential implications of the GPS phenomenon. For the first time in the history of the world, a person can see exactly where he is on earth at any point, on any continent, and in any climate. We have it set up in a way that an ear piece communicates the directions from Gerty's wizard-like brain, so not only are you looking at a map display of your route, but you are also informed mile by mile of your location and your proximity to the destination. There is, in essence, no way of finding yourself lost in the entire country. It makes me think about 700 years ago, when the common opinion of the world was that you'd fall off the edge if you ventured too far. I think about the first white man to ever set foot in Africa, or about Christopher Columbus and his mad dash across the pond. I just find it interesting that being lost in the world will soon become a derelict concept. Within five years, all cars will come equipped with GPS. Everyone will know where they are, and where they are going, but only by proxy of a computer's knowledge of longitude and latitude. So, we will find that our knowledge of the world is not really increased, but is merely made relative to global geographical information communicated by satellites from beyond the earth's atmosphere.

I guess part of my thinking on this subject is informed by the difference in my feelings on this tour so far as compared with how our last stint in Europe felt. On the February tour, I had a distinct and palpable sense of homesickness at a couple of points. I felt it when I caught the death flu in Amsterdam, during our first night in Dublin, and perhaps in Italy, where I found it hard to communicate with anyone. The language barrier and difference in culture certainly played a part in those feelings of loneliness and dejection, but I think not knowing the terrain around me probably did more to make me feel far from home. But what is home, really? The broadest answer to that question is simple: EARTH. That is where we live. And now that we, as a species, have the capacity to easily travel anywhere on Earth with the proper finances, the concept of home must be expanded to take into account the technological advances of the past decade. It is true that the internet has made the world much smaller in theory, but in terms of practical concequences, we must consider that the world is still a HUGE place. Even if Gertrude or Cynthia or any other GPS unit tells me where I am, that really doesn't mean that I actually know.

Anyways, thanks for letting me go on a tangent. Once in a while you just have to let it all out, you know? Getting back to the subject of the tour, we are kicking the proverbial ass and taking the proverbial names. Tonight we will play a headline show minus our friends in the Decemberists at a venue called the Iron Horse, just outside of Amherst Mass. We will enjoy a 90 minute set, as opposed to our quick burst 30 minute sets which we've been executing as the opening act on the "twilight in the fearful forest" tour. Highlights from last night in Philly included another great (free) bottle of scotch, a phantom stain on my kickass white pants, and a nerdy, freckled, geekish young fan named Rob. He told me that my stage moves reminded him of a combination of a robot and a dinosaur; I didn't know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. After tonight's show, we will be heading to Wellesley College to play for a bunch of hormonal females. It should be fun.