Requiem for Mistress N

Oh I weep, I weep! I call on crocodile tears and Imperial Resolutions! I weep for my missing girl, my true friend through all these years!

She was with me on every cold night when I lay in the bondage of the suburban dream, and contemplated escape; she was with me on every harsh high school woodshop morning. She had a warm friendly glow and a gentle, non-imposing way about her.

Pagan goddess of old, she accepted without question and never judged.

When the world just limped on its brutal, beaten way ... like a senseless turtle, that has been kicked, bleeding all across the lawn, stupidly crawling forward ... she was there.

When the world came crashing down and its illusion kicked out like ninjas through pane-glass windows ... she was there! Ever and always there!

She and I would kiss for minutes on end. Our touch tingled up the whorls up in my mind, tickled my brain. Such pleasurable kisses she brought me. Such trouble my lungs.

Her kiss tasted like fate and confidence. Godlike she and I could face the dawn. Now, now what is left?

Oh Miss Nicotine, where did you go? Where did you go? I'm sitting outside with my lighter in hand, missing your smile.

But I had to let you go. I had to. And where did you go?

Everywhere!

You went everywhere you fleeting princess of pleasure, you zephyr! You gust of wind. I would never say a word against you, not ever, elfin lady of dreams!






Get your own Nicotine Dream props here at Foxy's Smoke Shop, best place I found for it. That is not an endorsement for real world smoking! but if you still do it, well bless you and good luck! A cruel Mistress she is to be free of!

Truth

Hit the button for the late and angelic George Carlin. It is so rare to hear truth spoken to power so directly like this, all charades aside, all bullshit sorted. Nobody did this like he did. Nobody is doing it anymore. Or if they are, they are not let on your ImperialVision television screens.

George Carlin was in our face and he told us, he told us, he flat out fucking told us over and over: Everything we know is a lie, everything we believe in is a magician's dream.

That is why he should be remembered. This nonsense that his only contribution was allowing swear words on TV, that is a distraction.

We live in a Kingdom of Lies, we live an Empire of Dreams. How can anyone believe in this parade of bullshit and this cryptic nonsense? Only because you yourself are also sleepwalking through a dream. Listen to the man.

They don't give a fuck about you. At all. At all. At all.

Wake up, please. Voting for anyone in the two-party dictatorship is not freedom, it is slavery. Do not vote at all.

I Did Not Log on Today

I did not log on today because the sun was shining,
Because the markets were churning,
Because the job is demanding.
I did not log on today.

I did not log on today because I was sober,
Or because I was drunk;
Or because I wish I was high as a valkyrie, the way I used to be, touching star-faced mystery;
I did not log on today because this came back in my life unexpectedly:



It is hard to care about the Second when the First one is such a mess. Mine; everyone's.

I did not log on today because I was playing with the Spore Creature Creator and was disappointed by the endless parade of Disney-like cartoon jackanapes littering my hard drive.

My Spore creatures should have no gratuitous celebrities mouthing carefully crafted, market research-tested fart jokes to amuse children with: my creatures do emanate from circles beyond the ken of physics and carry in their bags of holding the gritty, merciless pitiless abyss of darkest space.

My creatures know what these circus animal cartoon frauds never will know: that cosmic background radiation is an ancient sentient cry of pain.

I did not log on today because one rollercoaster ride into the Abyss is enough carnival thrill for me. Who knows what job or town I will be in next fall, let alone next year. I am still able to assemble priorities in a vaguely chimp-like way.

I did not log on today because George Carlin died and took all the laughter with him.

The Conspicuous History of Kanomi Online

A while ago I meant to donate my two cents about this Avatar Rights debate -- and two cents is worth like five Lindens, and I have been tipped less than that in my spectacularly unnecessary exotic dancing career.

Actually, my favorite "cheap tip" anecdote is the poor newly minted newb who had literally nothing to give me except copies of his default Linden clothes. Bless his heart! The spirit was willing, the inventory was unable to perform!

Anyhoo, the gist of the Avatar Rights debate, the creme de la cum if you will, is that we avatars are digital people with separate identities from our keyboard pilots. Botgirl does this; as do others. The most interesting post I found about this was on Rheta's World, but she seems to have taken it down; that or my ability to navigate web sites has been destroyed by two decades of masturbation. It's not like I wasn't warned.

An inference from the idea that digital personas exist and are independent of their typists is that avatars whose entire existence is entirely bound up in Second Life require more freedom, rights, and nutrition than the average newbie nobody looking for something for nothing. It was on this point that I was going to weigh in:

Ladies and gentlemen! Now entering the mud wrestling ring, weighing in at 130 pixels, and measuring more than two meters in height according to our broken in world avatar measuring system... Ladies and gentlemen, make some HOWLZ gesture noise for...

The Tranny Terror, the Latin Lothario, the Punching Pollock, the Good Girl with Curiosity-Provoking Panties, the Cornfed Countrified Cutie from Cucamonga, your daily dose of Special K cereal....

Kanomi "Choo-Choo" Pikajuna!

Let's get R-r-r-r-r-r-eady to R-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-rumble!

Yet before I was ever able to bikini body-slam a willing and captive audience with quotable quackery, the New Linden Five Year Plan regarding trademarks was unleashed and the Slogosphere exploded with satire and tears, and I never did write that post. Since then I have joined the Royal Caledon Air Force, bought a mainland castle, quit exotic dancing, and repeatedly mocked the Second Life Herald and its dancing troupe of Goreans. It is easy to get distracted in Second Life.

I can, however, sum up the narrow and poorly conceived gist of my originally planned post: If you want to be a digital person, don't put all your basketballs in one basket.

A digital person should not, cannot, must not confine herself to one world or make her entire existence dependent on the goodwill and ongoing success of a metaphorical daemon of marketing and his ability to persuade IBM to waste money on penis farms.



Kanomi is important, Kanomi matters -- you are probably familiar with that mantra if you read this blog or if you are unlucky enough to get random messages from me in world. What you probably do not know is that Kanomi existed before Second Life; in fact, this is her third digital universe; and no, none of the others are World of Divorcecraft.

Always Kanomi: schoolgirl with a secret, special friend to all, everybody likes me, everybody likes the nice special friend to all! Slight variations in theme: one world I was utterly sexless, since it was a bright and shiny PG-rated place; the other utterly and freely deviant, an X-rated world, more deviant than even Second Life can be: hard to believe, I know. Different worlds, same Kanomi.



To see how this came about, let's hire a crappy 512 prim taxi and roll jerkily and awkwardly down Memory Lane in a multi-part series of Kanomi Online...

TO BE CONTINUED



:o

Creative Writing Assignment

Ms. Katgirl Linden
SL Literature Class
Value: 25 Lindens

We have read fiction by Wagner James "Three Names" Au, Peter "The Herald in Book Form, ha ha!" Ludlow, and other well known Second Life authors. Now it is your turn to try your hand at your own original short fiction.

We have studied the components of a short story: Character, Setting, Plot, and Theme. Start with a Character and describe him/her. Describe the Scene the story occurs in, then give the character a Plot (problem), and have the character attempt to overcome the problem.

Finally, state what the Theme of the story is in the final sentence. The story must have at least 250 words to qualify as a "short story." Those of you who write longer stories will get up to 5 bonus points.

If you have trouble with the bold terms in this assignment, consult the notecard "Definitions of a Short Story." And be creative and have fun!



The Bling Thing
by Coolguy25

So the dude's like, wtf beeyotch? I got your rock snake. Check how this roller rolls. He rolls with the bling.

He made his neck wiggle. The diamond necklace rotated up his muscular, coiled throat tube. It hovered, emitted strange, alien keening sounds. He blinged to the left, and his rock snake shone and blinded those to the left. Panties fell off the bitches.

He blinged to the right and his rock snake shone and blinded those to the right. Soon everyone put up their hands in the air. Nude bottoms presented to him.

Howls! said the crowd. They enjoyed the Blinging that the cool guy did.


Ms. Linden: Coolguy I think you are definitely *improving* in the area of character and setting, but I don't see much of a *plot* in your story either, or a *theme*. And let's watch the "language" ok!

I will give you a B+ this time but let's follow directions!



I am Quitting Second Life Forever
by Bunnypet Hugsalot

I trusted him. And the whole time, the whole time, he is doing my so-called best friend Tizzycat behind my back. Can you believe it? I don't believe it. But my neighbor gived me this transcript, the sluts don't deny it.

Coolguy25: Hey hows it going:)
Tizzycat: Hey baberskins wazzzup! :D
Coolguy25: Bit lonely here! ;)
Tizzycat: Oh noes! Werez ur gf??
Coolguy25: She is into girls :(
Tizzycat: Oh you poor thing! :O
Coolguy25: :(
Tizzycat: Come over talks boutit??
Coolguy25: :)

It goes on like that for another three hours YOU GETR THE IDEA. Because of this horrible heart break betrayl my heart has been broken into three pieces. It was broke in half by the lies of Coolguy. It was broke again by my so called friend it is broke in half again. Now that's three pieces. Maybe four. It dun matter.

I HAVE BEEN LIED TO LAST TIME GOODBYE SL I QUIT U FOREVER!!!

-bunnypet hates you all 4ever!

Ms. Linden: Bunnypet, you are doing some incredible things with emotion here. I really felt powered and empowered by your story. Like the time I went to the Shambalha Crystal Retreat in Mendocino under the guidance of my spirit guide Ro-pavra. I think you might benefit from a meeting with Ro-pavra, especially the nude waterfall healing rain touch for abandoned women.

However you did not follow all of the instructions to the letter so I must punish you with a B+.



The Friend to All
by Kanomi Pikajuna

Kanomi is important. Kanomi is special. Kanomi matters. She is the friend to all. Everybody likes her! Everybody likes the nice girl who is the friend to all. She is nice and important and she is special and important and the nice special important friend to all! Kanomi is important! Kanomi matters!

Ms. Linden: Kanomi!!! You have turned in the EXACT SAME PARAGRAPH for every Creative Writing Assignment for the last three assignments! I have explained in detail how this is not a story, it has no characters, no setting, no plot. I have WARNED YOU that if you continue to do this I will have no choice but to flunk you and send you to Mr. Phillip our Junior College Principal.

I am sorry you force my hand. I must give you a B+ because you have had many warnings, "Friend"! :(



Fuck Satan, Cthulhu is Where it's At
by Darkchylde Daggerheart

When the dark dance fell out of a storm-wracked sky; when the tribes that gathered off the goodness of the land were reduced to slavery for the greed and banality of foul men; when the light of all hope had gone out of the eyes of young people because the Empire of Flies buzzed at them; when night and day the cosmic circles were filled with noise, nattering about ninnies and trivial things; when blackened cities endured starfire and oblivion:

Then did a spirit rise in opposition: Nyarlathotep, the avenger of slaves and destroyer of rich and wicked men. And he bore a ragged sheet into battle, and his enemies named him the Crawling Chaos. And his eyes glinted with the dark spirit of time and the infinite unrolling cosmic conflagration of stars; the speckles in his eyes mirrored the galactic superclusters of the universe.

Ms. Linden: Darkchylde! This is very negative! I will give you a B+ this time but let's try and be more positive! This goes against the children and the watchers of Television.

Let's not rock the boat... let's "rock the boat" instead, with some Van Hagar and some real estate investment lessons!

:)

Taking a Break

I am taking a break from blogging and Second Life for a bit. I might do a few posts because I can't help myself. Otherwise, I am invisible!

See you soon!

For I Shall Slay Life, the Mother of All Demons and the Killer of Man

Is it possible to kill life? For I should like to see that asshole slaughtered. Life, you are a fucking shit. Walking around in your store-bought jeans, strutting with that badge on your shoulder: You are a mother fucker, a bitch, a spoon-fed cannibal, eating and devouring the corpses of the dead.

Life. What the fuck do I want with you. Get the fuck out. Get the fuck out of my fucking house with your sport utility vehicle and your spam email and your stage-managed election and all your bullshit. Everything you say is a lie: Everything you say is a pathway to despair and a doorway to kingdoms of darkness I never want to explore:

Life, you permit child-rapists and enrich dictators. Life, we know you are not fair, but how can you be so goddamned wrong? All the time? About everything? Is it that hard to see crimes and the neverending evil of man?

Goddamned politicians. Goddamned fucking human beings. We are all liars. Slavemasters. Whoremongers. I cannot believe we are sending out SETI signals and expect an answer. There is no answer. We are a Galactic NO FLY zone: We are a rampant contagion of hatred and despair. A hot spot of disease.

I cannot begin to describe how angry I am at what we have wrought. I have crawled through the abyss of self-loathing, my own entrails. I know the secret words of pain; I know the chemistry of depression and the chronicles of sorrow. I know the secrets of the warlords and the whispers that drive the banal, Imperial killing machines.

But you, you motherfucking life, I have one answer for you:

BANG




There that is how I sing the Blues: I crush it with prose. Do you like it? Don't worry, I don't and won't own a gun.