(no subject)
Oct. 19th, 2003 04:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bzarcherWhy are we praising this? Newsflash, kids. Living in a plastic box where you drink only water and exist in your own vomit and filth is not "magic". It's not even praiseworthy. It's someone being publically unsanitary and starving himself for attention.
God, it's painful to be an information addict when the information out there is so terrible.
Really, I wish I was kidding. But I'm not. Any of you who has seen me in person especially sees this. You know who and what I am. I need input. Crave it. Auditory, visual, tactile, anything. Why do you think I play with things when I get bored? (By things I mean pens, pencils, spare change. Not that, thank you. I save that for special occasions.) I study the sensations of metal or wood or plastic against my finger, little imperfections, and it gives me something while I wait on whatever's going to happen next.
I read constantly even if you don't notice it. I have music going or a TV on low volume so it doesn't disrupt my thought process but gives me something in the background. And then I have to keep flipping channels because eventually I lose interest and need to start it back up.
Thank god for the Internet, and You People. I get so much from all of you, and it goes into my various mental categories, saved and stored and passed into my memory even if I can't get it back occasionally. I don't know if I ever thank you. I think some of you realize...but still.
Thank you. All of you. Even if it seems like I float in the background like the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, silently recording and plotting, I do appreciate. We share our lives with each other, and we learn. Stories and one liners and crying and laughs. Who we are when we sit down at these little boxes of ours and write.
That reminds me. I think I'm finally at the point where my little box has outlived itself. Several games I'm quite interested in simply won't run on it unless I upgrade the processor itself. I may just save up for a good motherboard/cpu/memory combo. New video card, too, probably.
But where was I? Ahh, yes. Information and why telecommunications technology is so fucking great these days. A shame the rest of our technological bounty hasn't caught up to it.
Or rather, we haven't let it do so.
Really, do you think we haven't learned anything about air or ground travel since 1977 or so, when some of the last common innovations were introduced? Jumbo jets, fuel injection, etx? Yet we keep using them. And air travel has only gotten more expensive, and the price of gas higher and higher. Even with more hybrid engines hitting the streets from Japanese auto makers, and with the US controlling more and more sources of refined and unrefined petroleum. We don't have cheaper air travel or better, cleaner means of ground travel because it's not what serves those who control such things, and it makes things more and more annoying for us, because we can have deep, meaningful, moving friendships and loves with people all over the world, at a cost of pennies a day in electricity and data transmission, but we're fucked royally if we'd like to actually have a coffee with them.
Most hotels are even worse. The average hotel is at least 10 years old, if not more. Internally renovated occasionally, but the main structure and infrastructure are long since paid for. Do you really think they need $90-120 a night to cover operation costs, reasonable profit and employee salaries for such places? Oh, no. But that's what we pay, and so we pay it forever. Sick and shameful, some ways.
Madness and greed. A global community, like everyone (even, I admit, foolishly me), predicted as more and more communications technology spread across the world and into cultures we never dreamed of effectively reaching before, will not happen. Not until human contact and prescence becomes as low-cost and simple as our telepresence has. We need touch as much as we need talk, kids. I think we all know this. So until that happens...we're just talking at, and to, each other. But not building more than discussions. Not laying foundations for something new.
Touch is a great thing. An incredible thing. Our bodies are rigged to record so much for us that we remember so poignantly. The first time someone hugs you and doesn't want to let go. That first, nervous, excited, awkward kiss. The first taste of a favorite food. The feel of water and sand at a beach. The texture of old wood under your hand. Walking on a hot driveway. Snow kissing your hair and face. Autumn breezes whipping around you, leaves encircling you in a dancing fairy ring of color and chlorophyll.
As I write about this, things even crawl up to remind me of them. The first time I spent a night awake at someone's bedside because they were too nervous to be left alone. First time someone tried to cut me with a knife, and I managed to turn it into a brush rather than a cut. Last time I had a really good baklavah.
Where did I want to go with this? I forget. Sundays are good for that. I woke up late after staying up all night with Court and such, and the rest of the night and morning with Lisa, and I had a nice little mini-coma. Got up, showered, shaved, got some breakfast at what was technically lunch, came back, read, drank some water and decided to write after seeing 3 articles on that shithead poof of a fake magician.
Houdini was a magician. Blaine just wants to be a spectacularized Houdini without the effort.
Giant blocks of ice or clear plexiglass. Feh. Do something with nails, wood, iron, and crushing amounts of depth pressure. Make me believe in something other than you being an especially dirty and unsanitary human being.
Not that most television is much better, but oh, well. This is particularly sad. Where he gets the balls to call himself a magician when all he does is physical self-torture is beyond me. There's not even a pretense of illusions or prestidigitation anymore. Just him hurting himself for the audience.
There are clubs I can go to see that, and the performers are a damn sight more attractive than David Blaine. Not to mention being female and probably more limber.
I think I need to end this ramble and rant before I do something scary. As it is, I've proably bored you all half to death. Sorry about that, guys.
God, it's painful to be an information addict when the information out there is so terrible.
Really, I wish I was kidding. But I'm not. Any of you who has seen me in person especially sees this. You know who and what I am. I need input. Crave it. Auditory, visual, tactile, anything. Why do you think I play with things when I get bored? (By things I mean pens, pencils, spare change. Not that, thank you. I save that for special occasions.) I study the sensations of metal or wood or plastic against my finger, little imperfections, and it gives me something while I wait on whatever's going to happen next.
I read constantly even if you don't notice it. I have music going or a TV on low volume so it doesn't disrupt my thought process but gives me something in the background. And then I have to keep flipping channels because eventually I lose interest and need to start it back up.
Thank god for the Internet, and You People. I get so much from all of you, and it goes into my various mental categories, saved and stored and passed into my memory even if I can't get it back occasionally. I don't know if I ever thank you. I think some of you realize...but still.
Thank you. All of you. Even if it seems like I float in the background like the Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, silently recording and plotting, I do appreciate. We share our lives with each other, and we learn. Stories and one liners and crying and laughs. Who we are when we sit down at these little boxes of ours and write.
That reminds me. I think I'm finally at the point where my little box has outlived itself. Several games I'm quite interested in simply won't run on it unless I upgrade the processor itself. I may just save up for a good motherboard/cpu/memory combo. New video card, too, probably.
But where was I? Ahh, yes. Information and why telecommunications technology is so fucking great these days. A shame the rest of our technological bounty hasn't caught up to it.
Or rather, we haven't let it do so.
Really, do you think we haven't learned anything about air or ground travel since 1977 or so, when some of the last common innovations were introduced? Jumbo jets, fuel injection, etx? Yet we keep using them. And air travel has only gotten more expensive, and the price of gas higher and higher. Even with more hybrid engines hitting the streets from Japanese auto makers, and with the US controlling more and more sources of refined and unrefined petroleum. We don't have cheaper air travel or better, cleaner means of ground travel because it's not what serves those who control such things, and it makes things more and more annoying for us, because we can have deep, meaningful, moving friendships and loves with people all over the world, at a cost of pennies a day in electricity and data transmission, but we're fucked royally if we'd like to actually have a coffee with them.
Most hotels are even worse. The average hotel is at least 10 years old, if not more. Internally renovated occasionally, but the main structure and infrastructure are long since paid for. Do you really think they need $90-120 a night to cover operation costs, reasonable profit and employee salaries for such places? Oh, no. But that's what we pay, and so we pay it forever. Sick and shameful, some ways.
Madness and greed. A global community, like everyone (even, I admit, foolishly me), predicted as more and more communications technology spread across the world and into cultures we never dreamed of effectively reaching before, will not happen. Not until human contact and prescence becomes as low-cost and simple as our telepresence has. We need touch as much as we need talk, kids. I think we all know this. So until that happens...we're just talking at, and to, each other. But not building more than discussions. Not laying foundations for something new.
Touch is a great thing. An incredible thing. Our bodies are rigged to record so much for us that we remember so poignantly. The first time someone hugs you and doesn't want to let go. That first, nervous, excited, awkward kiss. The first taste of a favorite food. The feel of water and sand at a beach. The texture of old wood under your hand. Walking on a hot driveway. Snow kissing your hair and face. Autumn breezes whipping around you, leaves encircling you in a dancing fairy ring of color and chlorophyll.
As I write about this, things even crawl up to remind me of them. The first time I spent a night awake at someone's bedside because they were too nervous to be left alone. First time someone tried to cut me with a knife, and I managed to turn it into a brush rather than a cut. Last time I had a really good baklavah.
Where did I want to go with this? I forget. Sundays are good for that. I woke up late after staying up all night with Court and such, and the rest of the night and morning with Lisa, and I had a nice little mini-coma. Got up, showered, shaved, got some breakfast at what was technically lunch, came back, read, drank some water and decided to write after seeing 3 articles on that shithead poof of a fake magician.
Houdini was a magician. Blaine just wants to be a spectacularized Houdini without the effort.
Giant blocks of ice or clear plexiglass. Feh. Do something with nails, wood, iron, and crushing amounts of depth pressure. Make me believe in something other than you being an especially dirty and unsanitary human being.
Not that most television is much better, but oh, well. This is particularly sad. Where he gets the balls to call himself a magician when all he does is physical self-torture is beyond me. There's not even a pretense of illusions or prestidigitation anymore. Just him hurting himself for the audience.
There are clubs I can go to see that, and the performers are a damn sight more attractive than David Blaine. Not to mention being female and probably more limber.
I think I need to end this ramble and rant before I do something scary. As it is, I've proably bored you all half to death. Sorry about that, guys.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-10-19 01:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-19 02:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-19 02:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-19 02:14 pm (UTC)Oh. *Hugs* Glad things are turning around for Ashe.
no subject
Date: 2003-10-19 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-19 03:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-10-19 04:26 pm (UTC)Yay for 2% of a dollar.
Date: 2003-10-19 05:00 pm (UTC)Mmm, information addiction, yesh. I piddle about with things too (little gashapon things are useful here), or start staring at random objects and pick apart every visual aspect of them.
Re: Yay for 2% of a dollar.
Date: 2003-10-19 06:18 pm (UTC)