Dead angels speak to me sometimes. From Secondlife

Moments of clarity through bits of Secondlife

The vapor-lock of an empty club that you rez into can tell you megs upon megs of stories if you just sit quietly enough to look at the objects and the files within them. Who created them, and why. Most of it is a desperate cry for attention or a document to say that you were simply here. Often times I am gleefully misdirected to a source of information I do not like. I shall share a fragment of the data-stream the goes across the screen.

The majority of furies often describe themselves as bottom.

The majority of furs which are bottom are so because they’re lazy. It’s like smashing someone with a crowbar, If I am the one with the crowbar, I have to choose where I am going to hit you, how hard am I going to hit you. What does it sound like when I hit you. and most people would even want me to describe the damage that occurs where I hit you. The only thing they want to do is the type of sentence of crying in agony. Skipping over the fact that there would be a pool of blood on the floor, or perhaps that you’re not even standing or perhaps the ringing that happens in one’s ears when hitting hard enough that it’s actually your mind grasping for consciousness. An example of this nature proves that role play is important because it doesn’t matter if you are talking about sex, violence, or magic, they all share the same elements and require the same level of negotiation when you are writing with another person.

As I shake my cane at everyone, telling them to get off the grass because I fertilized it with a chemical that will cause cancer. It makes me wonder why I told them to get off the lawn in the first place. In fact, go and play more, get cancer and die. That, however, is not the point of this digital exercise. The point of this is to illustrate how far we’ve fallen. That in the early days of net existence we would sit in front of terminals and text would spew across the screen very much like this journal entry. and people would respond with similar depth. but we’ve lost our way. Everything is now commercialized, you don’t have to learn how to do something yourself so long as you enslave someone to do it for you. But by buying your way into having an identity, you, in fact, lose it gradually more and more. You try to buy more and more and more. but in the end, you’re left empty and in worse shape in a state of remorse and hatred.

I despise the laziness for all it does is drag down the productive and creative into their wake, to fulfill the lowest common denominator with mediocrity because it’s cool to fit in, instead of fighting to be different you conform and give in. go ahead and drink that coke, type those lines into secondlife “oh baby, I like that. ” and click fuck-ball #3. you’re not impressing anyone but other shallow people by doing so.

That’s what server said to me.


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