Gordon Matthews, the inventor of voice mail, has shuffled off this mortal coil and, though I had not heard of him prior to his death, his passing will be duly noted and observed by yours truly.
His invention, you see, changed my life some twelve years ago.
As I mentioned a few days back , I was involved with a voicemail "scene" (Ugh!) beginning in the late 1980's and lasting through the early 90's. This occurred in the portion of California which has come to be known as "Silicon Valley" (and it's immediate environs) and consisted of a varied group of misfits, outcasts, losers and loners who used commercial voicemail systems as a means of creative expression and social interaction. I don't know that any kind of census was ever taken but I figure there must have been as many as forty people, more or less, participating; a certain core group with others hanging on and falling off the periphery.
The way it worked was something like this: one or more people rented a voice mail box (referred to as "boxes" - about $10.00 a month if legitimate, free if pirated) and attempted to utilize the outgoing message space in a creative fashion - this entailed it's own limits and discipline as the time one had for creativity was typically no longer than a minute or so. Other people in the "scene" (Ugh again!) called, listened, and left messages - to which the recipient responded, perpetuating the cycle. Most people adopted "handles", rarely using their real names. "Psycho Jack" was the moniker I went by (derived from a character I had created in my misspent youth). My outgoing message space was usually occupied by my own work (poetry/prose vignettes), pontification, whimsical audio productions or music (prerecorded).
At times the social activity extended into the real world when a "box" party would be arranged. For some time, the "boxes" were my key social and creative outlet.
I could not have known when I entered this world of disembodied voices that it would lead me to the woman I had been waiting for all my life. But it did. One day I received a message like none I had ever recieved before, delivered by fortune and fate. It was a voice like cool water on a hot day, making my name - Psycho Jack - shine. And saying that my voice gave her chills. This, of course, led to trouble with the girlfriend I was sharing a "box" with at the time. But that relationship had been christened by doom before it set sail and fate would not be denied. Me and the owner of that luminous voice have been together now for over twelve years. This is why my hat is off to Mr. Matthews.
The voicemail - here it comes again - "scene" (ouch!) that I have briefly described here was a unique flowering of creativity through technology. I can't help but see similarities between the voicemail then and the weblog now.
I am pleased to report that a gentleman by the name of Phineas Narco , with others, has preserved a portion of that voicemail blossom under the name Midnight Voicejail , and has seen fit to broadcast it in the Bay Area through the auspices of radio station KFJC and, also, over the net .
