Don't Node While Sleep-Deprived
or,
The young Cameron Meets Lester
"Yeah, you’ll meet them all again on their long journey to the middle. Your writing is damn good, it’s just a shame
you missed out on rock ’n’ roll. It’s over. You got here just in time for the death rattle, last gasp, last grope."
So I've been hanging around with these kids lately. Kids... right. I call 'em kids when they're five years my junior
at a healthy 21 years of age. Does that make me an old man, naive, or just a cantankerous, cynical shell of a
person? Surely, at the very least, not the last. sigh
They spend the kind of time at MySpace that I used to spend playing video games or reading books. We're talking
excessive here. And in the media I'm being deluged by
fear-mongering outlets and fear-addled parents about the dangers
and evils of the site. I don't have an account, but I feel secure in saying, "Parents, please calm the fuck down."
I see nothing at all revolutionary about the site. It certainly is not original enough to allow for the evolution of
some new virtual evil, and if we're just talking about the same old traps, what's everyone getting so worked up about?
To the MySpace obsessed, I can with no clear conscience warn you away from spending an excessive amount of time on
an internet site. But then, conscience has rarely stopped me before...
Please, please, please stop creating MySpace "sites!" They are an affront to every sensory experience the computer
can emulate. No, that low-quality, mangled clip of a Sublime song does not neatly encapsulate who you are or make
me want to know "who you really are." In fact, it's just pissing me off as it causes my browser to crawl in
loading your page because the song is served through a neat little plugin that accesses an ad-clogged, low-bandwidth
server in The Czech Republic. Anything worthwhile that you might have written is nearly impossible to read
contrasted against the dark, grainy and TILED(!?) pic of you and the love-of-your-life. But, I do appreciate how
you've explored every color of the rainbow in selecting your fonts.
But the rant dies with less gusto than it began as I hear the hollow whine of hypocrisy in it. Rational voices
prevail. This is just one more step along the path. The internet meanders, capitulates to communal demand, and even
sometimes creates a rare but inviting cream atop the crust. This
infitesimal goodness that seems to self-spawn out of only ones and zeros is not as inviting or popular
as the depths that lie below, but it is nearly as magical as mother nature's own machinations. At least, it should be sought out and treasured. Treat it with respect lest it become
soiled by mass consumption. The catch in this scenario is that you never really know if you're dining on cream or
with the masses. You can only believe that you are superior, for to validate it to proof undeniable will
necessarily invite spoilage (as the only way to prove what is essentially opinion is consensus), and ruin what
could've been a very good thing.*
While this scenario allows for arrogance, and an entitled sense of superiority based on ability, it neatly provides
this usually narrow experience to everyone. Really, this vein of thinking is way too socialist for the real
world. It also certainly exposes me as someone who has been up way too late, listening to too much ripped music, and
musing quite pointlessly about the recent experience of a consciousness that refuses to ignore its desire to write.
Chastisement now becomes the responsibility of the reader.
"Smart kid. I used to do speed -- and sometimes a little cough
syrup. Stay up all night, writing and writing, like 25 pages of dribble about the faces of Coltrane, just to fucking
write…. Alright, it’s been nice to meet you. Keep sending me your stuff. I just can’t stand here all day talking to
my many fans."
* For an example of a deceptive very-good-thing, please click
here to be taken offsite.