we all type our hearts out on these contemptable hunks of metal.
computers!
we log on, sign on, get on somehow, and display ourselves through our screennames, bulletin board posts, and aol profiles. we pour out our radical views in chat rooms like "god vrs satan," "stoners vrs skaters," "mfm in dallas," and other such member created forums of opinion. we share our thoughts on religion, our poetry, our personalities, the personalities of our alter egos, and those secret lusts we have always wanted to share, but couldn't say face to face.
you can say it here.
these white screens, blue screens, all blank screens, you can somehow communicate so much better to the email adresses of people you'll never meet.
in a way it's like you are talking to yourself.
i sign on and instantly i become powerful, magical, tyrranous. i am the dictator of my land, my webpage is my castle and my member room is my court. i lounge in my online apartment. the world grovels at my feet for a new thought of the day.
and yet... i am at their mercy.
infinite giggabites of information at my fingertips... go to hotbot, type in a word, and i have access to thousands of sites with any subject i want.
and yet... i am at their mercy.
if i have a penny and you have a penny, and you give me a penny and i give you a penny, we both still have 1 cent. but if i have an idea and you have an idea, and you tell me your idea and i tell you my idea, we both have two ideas and didn't loose anything.
the internet is the collective consciousness!
the universal oversoul, our ideas compiled and stacked on top of each other in eternal recycling flakes of crust like the earth itself. peel one later back, and... behold!... an idea came before that...
you will never find a beginning or an end. you will never stifle it completely.
Nietzche said that God is Dead,
the internet is god!
we have created a forum for free-thought, perhaps the biggest mistake ever made by mankind. never should have connected us all so easily.
i am you!
you are her and she is a little bit of him and we are all a pile of half-thought of thoughts in a mesh of html and java and blank text files.
the internet is our connection to ourselves.
where do you want to go today?
- fallen
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© 1998 UrielsPoet@aol.com
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