Monday, October 24, 2005
Posted by pandastrong Fairplay
Thanks to Forseti, I couldn't entitle this article; This is How Ended in Tokyo.
Thanks to Forseti, I am writing this article.
Post-modernism really does have its lines, and I drew those lines in the sand last-night. The Metaverse eats itself on a daily basis, and allows for nothing above or beyond itself. The cadence of every Second Life is out-drawn by a functional specification written by Dorian Grey.
How long can you walk on a rug that is a conversational piece?
I can't even whore up a proper analogy.
But the Metaverse punched me in the nose. A collective focus on its own existence by its inhabitants is the core of its being. The Metaverse is the Universe, and I already live in the Universe. I wouldn't go to an ACLU meeting either during The Rapture. Yeah, you got me.
I can't play dress-up with the boys and girls anymore because, for me, Second Life is not ontologically dependent on an asset server. Immersion was not the girl I dated in high-school. I didn't make-out with her, even if she did use that certain shampoo that drove boys like me crazy.
There are things that break your Metaverse, and they aren't scripted physical objects. If a racist kind of upsets you but a griefer makes you really angry, then you are a scripted physical object. I would rather not live in yet another world filled with NPC's.
I will echo what Prometheus must have been thinking; Malei Kamnei.
Tokyo by Cap'n Jazz
this is how it ended in tokyo. buildings rebuilt and billed to anyone dumb enough to be standing there. thanksgiving day. tossing eating wearing pigskin worn thin. torn teethly like the scaredy cat sacred custom goes. sweet chicken little eating lolli pox treats for turkey day. it's salmonella city. where we're worn thin. ordered to work in working order. bashful red shame and bold blue bruising whitey. hiding in houses looking like aching smiling faces. an oh, the comfortable forts we used to build with cushions and blankets. matching a patched up pair like us, apparently it's a given, given culture and all, we will break things just to call them broken. stained by this compulsion to ruin and name it art. (arthur to adults - "when you get caught between the moon and new york city..." (christopher kane?)) architects ache so they build. some subdivisions no matter how much pain or planning. no matter how much it matters. some ugly houses sprout up in rows. look like structures of sad accidents and broken happy plans. we named the clever chimp that picked up the first tool adam. we discovered we are really mostly just water. we pretend about a past to justify right now. we tell countless lies to make it through each day. keep on runnin' little bunny. keep on runnin'. all the duracell sold during the super bowl. and my disease. such an easy disease contagious as a yawn. my why chromosome.
Posted at 10/24/2005 06:39:00 PM