Monday, January 08, 2007

stalker



I'll post again a text i've written a while ago. I'm recycling.

I love the internet.

It's my best friend, my favorite past time, my library, my discotheque, my teacher, my classroom, my cinema, my art gallery, my bench in the park, my dark secluded table in the coffee house, my throbbing buffer, my cognac avant and my cigarette apres, my room 101, my tribune from where I deliver my babbled speech munching a mouthful of pebbles.

I had a revelation. Last night the stupefying intoxicating reality hit me: you are never alone on the internet. You cannot whisper, tiptoe, cry, or die , there will always be a prying ear, a banging in the floor or a knock on the door, a kiss of life with halitosis, a cold defibrillator on my bare chest. There is always some sort of B.B. watching and jerkin off to my tune.

But then again, I keep pulling back my curtains every night when I go to bed. My exhibitionism thrives on your voyeurism.

I love the internet. And the internet loves me too.



much later edit:
i hate the god damn bloody interenet

4 comments:

  1. Internet is a good way to get on the net :)

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  2. The internet is wondrous, but it has its limitations. Can it anneal the pain of unrequited love? Can it console the lover who misses an absent embrace. It is a prurient, voyeuristic companion for sure, but can it provide a warm harbour for those marooned by the dissolution of love. The internet, more stringently, is the mirror for our own narcissism and egocentrism. It is counterfeit and synthetic, beguiling and entrancing, and a hall of mirrors where we choose how much truth we tell, how many lies we divulge, and fantastic we are or are not. Nice sophistry though: I wanted to believe you.

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  3. oh do believe me. for once i was honest.

    ReplyDelete