CJ Eller

I recorded a podcast with a friend the other night analyzing a short story. Both of us were responsible for recording our respective voices. Well, one of us was responsible. Spoiler — it wasn't me.

We had a riveting 90 minute conversation and I only found out the morning after that my recording app backfired on me. Nothing but dead air — I was floored. How to break it to my friend? “We'll record it again,” I said. “Next time we can do a little more research on the story and it'll be better. I am so sorry.” But my friend graciously declined. The conversation was lightning in a bottle, well worth having in and of itself. No need for a repetition. “Let's talk about a different story next time.”

This response made me pause for thought. I thought of things the other way around — what good was the conversation if the recording was ruined? In focusing on the artifact, I lost sight of the moment we shared in conversation about an author we both admire.

Does a conversation need a digital hyperlink to give it credibility? No. The analog hyperlinks shared between two people, connections between thoughts and ideas and history and literature and philosophy and religion, that's what counts. Not everything needs a digital hyperlink. That's tough for me to swallow, because I live by that digital coupling of verb & noun — to hyperlink and to click/create/share hyperlinks on the web. Life is not all about digital linkage though (as I publish these thoughts to a digital link). Perhaps part of it these days how to make analog and digital hyperlinks dance with each other.

I don't even know what I'm talking about here to be honest, but maybe that's what more digital hyperlinks are for — to document those analog hyperlinks.