Neat Moth!: So Meta!

When I was an undergrad, there was a group of us going through the literature/creative writing program that were properly surly, generally myopic (judging by the number of thick-rimmed glasses), and of course, snobbily obscure. One subset of this group even started a salon-type gathering called the Clinamen Society, referring to Harold Bloom's (grr...) theory of creative break in which writers move away from their predecessors. I felt this name to be vaguely... racy, for no discernible reason.

This same general group would frequently refer to things as "meta," as in, "metafiction" (fiction about fiction, which was all the rage for a semester with the creative writing kiddos), or "metalanguage" (language used to talk about language). The former and the latter are proper examples of the use of "meta," but it sort of became a schwa. "That bar was kinda meta"; "She is a little meta tonight." I have no idea what these were supposed to mean-- the literal definition of meta, in this context, is of a higher or second order. A bar to define bars? That's a damn good bar.

In honor of the re-introduction of "meta" into my paradigm (metadata; meta-science; meta-fields; meta-discipline; meta-structures; I read about all of these this week), I have created a little photo essay in the same loose "meta" sensibility to explain why in the heckers I moved to L.A. anyway.

This is the building where I learn about information science and libraries;