Feeds:Friday
Life continues to seem surreal, as it has since that fateful night in late April of Seven. Was it April? Time, never something I was good at, eludes me still. This is why I take notes, and half-changing topic, why I take all my notes in a single notebook. Otherwise, how would I know when things happened, or what order they happened in? Yes, these are two different questions, and they have, as noted above, two different answers. I haven't yet figured out why I care when things happen. The latter issue I find inherently interesting. Anyway.
We all know the first law of the Internet. But what does it mean to see your darkest, most twisted imaginings (second law is the one about the fetishes, remember; I know this sounds bad if you get those mixed up) played out in hypertext? It makes them a little more real, perhaps, but what if reality is a zero-sum game, there's only so much to go around? I see something now on the Internet, I think, "Yes, but does it really exist?" Which may not seem so bad. But consider one does on the Internet these days: correspondence with friends and relatives; digesting news and politics (interjection: politics are not news); banking, shopping, and other acts of commerce. I look at an ad for soap, soap I've used, or a vice presidential debate, or a friend's blog, and I think, "Well, yes, but does it really exist?" Which to some of you nearly as far down the blue brick road as myself still may not seem that bad. But I catch myself wondering, waiting in busstops, petting a neighbor's cat, smelling coppery scents when I walk into a room. Does it really exist? The bus? This cat? A hidden vein of malachite?
I'm not sure if the problem is with the Internet, or with me. I'm not sure there's even a problem. All I know is, I've had something like this happen before, when I fell asleep and don't remember ever waking up. Perhaps the dream is finally fading?
If I do wake up back in seventh grade study hall, I am going to feel so awkward when I unthinkingly use twenty-first century slang. But I guess that's what seventh grade is about anyway.
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