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In Which I Mock Issues Of Great Import
Jun. 14th, 2011 09:52 amThis whole idea of "performing" as somebody else on the internet, cf A Gay Girl in Damascus (Who's Actually a White Dude in Edinburgh) is, really and truly, one of those: "Ahahaha, I am too old for this shit" moments, for me. I can't even conceive of it. Then again, I guess that's why I've never been able to figure out the point of RPing on the 'Net, either--that shit is gruelling enough in real life, and at least there, you can sit in the same room with people.
But then again, the immediate fallout--everybody signing up for some meme where they name other people who can "prove [they] exist"--is equally amusing, since "logically", if we've already established that people can produce and maintain sock-puppets, anybody could be one. That kid whose pictures I keep posting could be some stranger I'm stalking, rather than my actual son. If sovay, asakiyume and moon_custafer show up to establish that no, seriously, they met me one or many more time(s) and can see the resemblance/have been to my condo/saw Cal for the first time shortly after he was born, well--so what? Maybe they're all sock-puppets too. Maybe we're all rapidly-typing dogs.
OTOH, I guess it's easy for me to find all this funny, since I live a semi-public life with a fairly easy-to-trace trail that's not entirely made of pixels. But this stuff just does keep on happening, and the DIDishness of it is a very 21st-century derangement, so I continue to well up with calcified old lady laughter. I'm a bad person! (Waves hands in air, shrugs)
In other news, spent the last two days blowing through the entirety of True Blood Season Three. I'd totally forgotten what a big bag of liquid crack that series is, and though I can understand why people were complaining that it's become a complete soap opera (because it really has), I still enjoyed it far more than was probably good for me. Southern gothic! Snark! Gratuitous fucking of almost every variety (not enough lesbianism for my tastes, or threesomes, or bisexuality), accompanied by literal gouting buckets of fake blood! Over the last five episodes or so, things went so far off the rails we ended up chugging happily along on Saturn, and I was basically in crazy ass-kick heaven. (I also became weirdly touched by eleventh-hour attempts to humanize Lorena, Bill's incredibly dislikable maker, by giving her a very understandable back-story; almost as good was when Godric showed up as a ghost/hallucination, trying to convert Eric to pacifism and forgiveness and failing, utterly. "Such hate. You make me bleed, my child." Oh well...probably shouldn't've turned a Viking, then!)
But now we need to pound the bones and make some bread. You like? Made it up myself.
...or did I?!?!?!?
But then again, the immediate fallout--everybody signing up for some meme where they name other people who can "prove [they] exist"--is equally amusing, since "logically", if we've already established that people can produce and maintain sock-puppets, anybody could be one. That kid whose pictures I keep posting could be some stranger I'm stalking, rather than my actual son. If sovay, asakiyume and moon_custafer show up to establish that no, seriously, they met me one or many more time(s) and can see the resemblance/have been to my condo/saw Cal for the first time shortly after he was born, well--so what? Maybe they're all sock-puppets too. Maybe we're all rapidly-typing dogs.
OTOH, I guess it's easy for me to find all this funny, since I live a semi-public life with a fairly easy-to-trace trail that's not entirely made of pixels. But this stuff just does keep on happening, and the DIDishness of it is a very 21st-century derangement, so I continue to well up with calcified old lady laughter. I'm a bad person! (Waves hands in air, shrugs)
In other news, spent the last two days blowing through the entirety of True Blood Season Three. I'd totally forgotten what a big bag of liquid crack that series is, and though I can understand why people were complaining that it's become a complete soap opera (because it really has), I still enjoyed it far more than was probably good for me. Southern gothic! Snark! Gratuitous fucking of almost every variety (not enough lesbianism for my tastes, or threesomes, or bisexuality), accompanied by literal gouting buckets of fake blood! Over the last five episodes or so, things went so far off the rails we ended up chugging happily along on Saturn, and I was basically in crazy ass-kick heaven. (I also became weirdly touched by eleventh-hour attempts to humanize Lorena, Bill's incredibly dislikable maker, by giving her a very understandable back-story; almost as good was when Godric showed up as a ghost/hallucination, trying to convert Eric to pacifism and forgiveness and failing, utterly. "Such hate. You make me bleed, my child." Oh well...probably shouldn't've turned a Viking, then!)
But now we need to pound the bones and make some bread. You like? Made it up myself.
...or did I?!?!?!?
