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Monday, 20 December 2010

Rebecca Wigmore (x 3): Mother, spawn object. Sadly Missed, Seldom Googled (1983 - 2011).

Hi T, B-T Readership,


The world nauseates me right now. This is not a emo-ish cry for help or a backslide into adolescent angst but a bald statement of biological fact. My awakened hormones now dictate that colours, movement, and, most horrifying of all, smells are plaguing my every waking thought and tying my esophagus into the prettiest bow. Thank god that we're careening into the Christmas week so ginger-based foodstuffs abound. However, the sub-zero conditions and my beleaguered state mean that it is unlikely I'll get to see my family down in Ashford, the city of progress, home of the tank, 'a beautiful place to die.' (© Simone Weil). It is deeply upsetting though none of them are yet cognisant of Wigmore_B or the Wigmore Undecided residing in my belly. Not that this would be a problem if they bothered to read the blog, but of course they're all too busy tilling the fields and scouring the Matalan.


I'm not going to lie. I'm an Ashford girl. I yearn for its particular quality of light, its bold halogenic warmth.
When you miss home, Google Maps kicks the shit out of madelines

What hope is there if your own family refuses to read your work? Transmedia storytelling kinda lives or dies on the audience's faith that they can see their mark on the work. If the narrative system is closed and there's no locus point for interaction you may as well hang up your New Media hat. Jolson Sings! Garbo Laughs! Facebook Likes! Mimes corrupt! Influence, or at least the illusion of influence is what elevates Transmedia above mere pissing in the wind. It's what keeps society greased and the kiddies fed.  

So as I lie here, a faint crust of partially masticated ginger biscuit about my lips and neck, I wonder if you could assuage my loneliness, tiny readership. 


Please leave a comment and/or take part in my poll. I feel so 2002 and pathetic. I feel so very very nauseous. Only my fevered Transmedia networking on Twitter gives the winter nights any shape. Tell me all the things, readership.: what'syername and wheredyacome from?












3 comments:

MGolberg said...

And why can't a multiplatform storytelling experience quite unlike anything I've ever seen before but with sufficient ingenuity and intregrity so as not to piss me off with constant empty gimmickry involve indiscriminate hardcore nudity? I'm not sure I want to get on board with any storytelling that rules it out entirely. Damnit, I want the illusion of influence, I want it now, and I want it projected onto the bare buttock of a beautiful man. Or at least I want this thing to let me vote twice.

Becky said...

This comment would make me so happy were it not for the fact it was typed from about 10 feet away. I am becoming accustomed to the reach of my influence. If I could only get the flat below us on board, I'd be *that* much closer to multi-modal dominance.

That said, I've noted your predilection for nudity across many modes.

Flip Roberts said...

How about something more Christmassy ? I don't think transmedia will catch on but then again I said that abot the usb stick