Dec 6, 2004

I guess I can't complain.

I mean, I could have my left foot nailed to a weasel. I could be personally infested with parasites. I could be falling down Rickenback Falls, locked in combat to the death with Doctor Moriarty.

But I complain anyway.

I like Blogger. Don't get me wrong. It's cool and all, it's fun, it's easy as hell (well, easy) to operate, but DAMNED, you would think that someone as big as Google could make the site stay put for more than 24 consective hours. I had a big-arse post this morning ready and willing to go, wrote it all out, hit the big old orange "Publish Post" button, and the little rotating pyramid thing junk appeared, and locked on "0%." I sat with my daughter while she ate breakfast. I stood with her waiting for the bus, which was late this morning. I came back inside, washed my hands because I had been petting the dog who was quite wet and therefore quite foul, and looked in on my computer, which at some point had lost sight (get it? site....sight...it's a pun or something) of Blogger entirely. I guess it dissapeared into the giant morass of 14 year olds hiding in their parent's basement that is the WWW as a whole.

William Gibson sees the internet as Cyberspace, a wonderous consensual hallucination where data is represented as geometric shapes arrayed on an infinite grid. This is a wonderful idea. The reality of Cyberspace is that it's millions and millions of freakishly deformed gnomes living in trailers on the outskirts of Memphis, Atlanta, and the entire state of Nebraska, whose only connection with the real world is a struggling 1.2 mhz Dell that only has 20 more payments due on it and a phone line.

And they're all blogging.

Hang on, I gotta get this call, it's Dell, and they want another payment.

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