Human Meme

David Boles

The Human Meme podcast examines what separates human consciousness from mere biological existence. Each episode investigates the inherited behaviors, cultural transmissions, and cognitive patterns that replicate across generations, shaping how we think, grieve, speak, and remember. David Boles, a New York City writer, publisher, and teacher, hosts these conversations as mindfulness with teeth: no production music, no easy comfort, only the direct inquiry into what makes us recognizably human. Since 2016, the podcast has asked why we weep emotional tears, how language emerged from gesture, and whether memory constructs or reveals the self. The irrevocable aesthetic is the commitment to answers that, once understood, cannot be unknown. Be a Human Meme.

  1. HÁ 16 H

    Go to Every Funeral

    I want to tell you about something I overheard in a cafe in Newark, New Jersey, about twenty-five years ago, and about the book that grew out of it, and about why it took me a quarter of a century to understand what I heard. I was teaching at the time. A colleague from my department was sitting near the window with her daughter, a young woman just starting her freshman year of college. I came in, we exchanged the usual pleasantries, and then I sat down at the next table and we performed that ritual of urban public life where you pretend you cannot hear the person three feet away from you. But I could hear her. Her voice had changed. It had acquired weight. She was no longer making conversation. She was delivering an instruction. She pointed at her daughter and tapped the table with her finger, and she said: "Go to every funeral. Even if you don't want to. Even if you don't know them. If you know the people around them, you go."

    15min
  2. You Might Also Like: NearlyWeds with Molly & Tom

    HÁ 16 H · BÔNUS

    You Might Also Like: NearlyWeds with Molly & Tom

    Introducing We're Getting Married! from NearlyWeds with Molly & Tom . Follow the show: NearlyWeds with Molly & Tom Hi guys - Molly and Tom here and we’re getting married! Oh, and we’re launching a podcast! Welcome to the very first episode of NearlyWeds where we document the ride of a lifetime as we plan our perfect wedding day! 💖 For our first episode we’re spilling EVERYTHING. From how we really met to what actually went down behind the scenes of Love Island: All Stars.  We’re also telling our full engagement story. Spoiler alert: it involves shoulder-barging, tequila shots, and a huge WhatsApp group chat that nearly ruined the surprise. And now, the wedding planning crunch time has officially arrived. There are SO many decisions to be made and let’s just say…our visions are not aligned 😳 Most importantly, we want to hear from you. Got a wedding disaster? A proposal fail? Or a juicy question you need answers to? Slide into our DMs @nearlywedspodcast or email us at nearlyweds@jampotproductions.co.uk Thanks for tuning in x  Instagram: @nearlywedspodcast TikTok: @nearlywedspodcast Email: nearlyweds@jampotproductions.co.uk YouTube: @NearlyWedswithMollyTom THE CREDITS Exec Producer: Ewan Newbigging-Lister  Producer: Flossie Barratt Assistant Producer: Issy Weeks-Hankins  Video: Jake Ji & Lizzie McCarthy Social: Anthony Barter  Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information. DISCLAIMER: Please note, this is an independent podcast episode not affiliated with, endorsed by, or produced in conjunction with the host podcast feed or any of its media entities. The views and opinions expressed in this episode are solely those of the creators and guests. For any concerns, please reach out to team@podroll.fm.

  3. 10 DE MAR.

    What the Light Carries: On Writing to the Future

    The book is twenty-one letters. I use the word "letter" loosely. A surgical dictation is a letter. A cockpit voice recorder transcript is a letter. A recipe card annotated by three generations of the same family is a letter. A homestead deed from 1884 is a letter. A radio signal broadcasting Chopin and a list of forty-seven names into a dead frequency is a letter. A mathematical theorem inscribed into the DNA of a bacterium is a letter. Each one crosses a gap. The first gap is one second. A surgeon dictating an operative report while the patient is still on the table. The last gap is 4.24 light-years. That is the distance to Proxima Centauri, the nearest star, and it is also zero, depending on your frame of reference. Special relativity tells us that a photon traveling at the speed of light experiences no transit time. From the photon's perspective, emission and absorption are the same moment. The gap is a property of the receiver, not the sender. The message does not know it is late. Between those two extremes, one second and light-years, I tried to cover every register of human communication I could reach. The clinical and the domestic. The bureaucratic and the intimate. The comic and the elegiac. The personal and the geological. The living and the dead.

    14min

  4. 7 DE MAR.

    The Grammar of Leaving

    I want to talk about a sentence. A very specific kind of sentence. The kind of sentence you hear every day, in every newscast, in every corporate press release, in every school board meeting and church bulletin and government report, and you never notice it, because the sentence was designed not to be noticed. The sentence goes like this: "Jobs were lost." Or: "The congregation dwindled." Or: "The neighborhood changed." Or: "The program was discontinued." Listen to the grammar. In every one of those sentences, the subject is the thing that was abandoned. The job. The congregation. The neighborhood. The program. In none of those sentences is the subject the person or the institution that did the abandoning. The jobs were not taken by a board of directors who calculated that cheaper labor was available overseas. The jobs were lost, as if they had wandered off on their own, as if employment were a set of car keys that slipped behind the couch cushions through nobody's fault. That is the grammar of leaving. And my new book is about that grammar.

    9min

  5. 1 DE MAR.

    Miscast: The Body on Stage

    When an actor walks onto a stage and says the words a playwright has written, whose body is it? Not legally. Legally the question is settled. The actor owns the body, the playwright owns the words, and an intricate web of union contracts and intellectual property law keeps the two from colliding in ways that require attorneys. The legal answer is clean. I am asking a different question. I am asking what happens, at the level of consciousness, when a human being stands in a defined space and pretends to be someone else. Whose experience is the audience receiving? The character's? The actor's? The playwright's? Some fourth thing that does not exist until all three converge in a room where strangers have agreed to sit in the dark and watch? I have spent more than forty years in the theatre, and I do not have a settled answer. What I have instead is a book.

    16min

  6. 26 DE FEV.

    The Eighty-Five Percent

    In 1970, a woman named Vera Rubin pointed a spectrograph at the Andromeda galaxy and found that it was wrong. Not the galaxy. The galaxy was doing what galaxies do. What was wrong was every prediction about how the galaxy should behave. The stars at the outer edge of Andromeda were moving too fast. Not slightly too fast. Not within the margin of error. They were moving as though something enormous was holding them in place, something with gravitational mass far exceeding everything visible in the galaxy combined. The stars were orbiting matter that no telescope on Earth, or in orbit, or conceivable within the laws of electromagnetic radiation, could detect. Rubin published her findings. The physics community did what physics communities do when a woman presents evidence that the standard model is incomplete. They told her to check her equipment. She checked it. She observed more galaxies. She found the same result in all of them. Every galaxy she pointed her instrument at was embedded in a halo of invisible mass that outweighed the visible matter by roughly six to one.

    14min

  7. 22 DE FEV.

    The Westborough Crusaders and the Boy Who Wrote It Down

    In 1982, a sixteen-year-old boy in the Midwest sat down and wrote eight episodes of a television series about teenagers running a school newspaper. The characters drank in darkrooms. They brought guns to school. They had bone cancer and absent fathers and substance abuse problems that no adult in the building knew how to address. One of them wore orange overalls and ordered a razor from a magazine that promised to scrape away the dead sensuality, uncovering your natural, animal instincts. The blades cost seventy-nine dollars and eighty-eight cents. The razor cost three dollars and eighty-seven cents. That detail is the kind of thing only a teenager would write, because only a teenager understands the specific economics of being cheated by the adult world before you are old enough to know the word for it. That boy was me. And for over four decades, those scripts sat in a drawer, and then in a file, and then in the particular purgatory of work that matters to its author but has not yet found its form. Today I want to talk about what happens when you go back.

    17min

  8. 18 DE FEV.

    The Sign Above the Shelf: The God in the Wire

    In the book I describe what I call the Substitution Test. Three questions. What human good was this technology supposed to serve? What did it actually deliver instead? And who profited from the substitution? Those three questions govern every chapter. They are applied to the typewriter and the word processor. To the chalkboard and the learning management system. To the handwritten letter and the social media post. To the stethoscope and the electronic health record. And in every case, the answer reveals the same structural pattern: a genuine human need is identified, a technology is developed to address it, the technology achieves dominance, and during that dominance, something essential is lost. Not because the technology is evil, but because the technology is a tool being asked to be a god, and tools cannot be gods, no matter how sophisticated they become.

    15min
Ver tudo (842)

Sobre

The Human Meme podcast examines what separates human consciousness from mere biological existence. Each episode investigates the inherited behaviors, cultural transmissions, and cognitive patterns that replicate across generations, shaping how we think, grieve, speak, and remember. David Boles, a New York City writer, publisher, and teacher, hosts these conversations as mindfulness with teeth: no production music, no easy comfort, only the direct inquiry into what makes us recognizably human. Since 2016, the podcast has asked why we weep emotional tears, how language emerged from gesture, and whether memory constructs or reveals the self. The irrevocable aesthetic is the commitment to answers that, once understood, cannot be unknown. Be a Human Meme.

Informações

  • Criado por
    David Boles
  • Anos de atividade
    2016 - 2026
  • Episódios
    842
  • Classificação
    Livre
  • Copyright
    © All Rights Reserved
  • Site do podcast
    Human Meme

Você também pode gostar de