I’m a DJ who spins virtual records, spends most of his time programming for a virtual party. I code and design for the inter-web’s virtual pages, journals, galleries and businesses. I accept virtual payment and keep it in a virtual bank, I spent my days and nights communicating with virtual letters, text messages, instant messages, my best photography, posters, flyers, poems, music, essays, diatribes, reviews and charts are all virtual, hosted here, on flickr, myspace, and various other virtual record shops, galleries, and domains. I’m a virtual dad, with phone calls and iChats. I am a virtual friend, with more than a thousand contacts on myspace, and a phone book, and address book filled with a few thousand more people from all over the world. The object of my most vulnerable affection, all of my dreams, hopes and desires is both a virtual and visceral apparition.
I am lonely. I want to smell fresh cut roses, steaming hot espresso, and a freshly lit cigarette. I want to get dirty. I want to pass notes all afternoon without saying a word, I want to listen to Chopin with a friend in silence, and be totally blown away together. I want to hold hands, rub noses, give butterfly kisses, get butterfly kisses. I want to tickle someone until they just about wet their pants, and if they get away from me, I wanto to chase them laughing half with happiness, wrecklessly through the apartment, only to be tackled, and tickled right back. I want to french kiss until that little bit of skin under my tongue tears and I can’t talk, and it’s hard to keep kissing like that. I want to keep kissing like that anyway. I want to make love so tenderly, so long, so deeply, and so completely that every last one of my neighbors get together and start a petittion to have me evicted from my apartment for making too much noise. I want to stand in a crowded elevator. I want to have a deep, and personal conversation about something, anything, other than myself and my fucking feelings. I want to dance until the sun comes up. I want to lay on a beach, astink with some crappy, overpriced sunscreen, furious and unable to sleep because the drunk, overweight pink people from nebraska thought it would be sweet to pump Pearl Jam from their boom box at shores of the pacific ocean. I want to scream.
Maybe I just need a vacation, but I am sick of my “virtual life,” and I want to wake up now.
5 Comments
I’m thinking Mexico sounds real good….
Ive heard Santa Teresa - Costa Rica is beautifull this time of year.. my sister is down there right now working on some more wonderfull paintings. Ide love to befriend a Capuchin monkey.. my wee monkey chave as Ide call him, he could sit on my shoulder and tickle my ear, groom my growing hair, pick the ear wax from my ears so I could here his tender whispers.
I’m so with you on this. ‘cept that I am at school all day and that is what prevents me from doing many of these things, by the time I get home, and the kid is asleep, my virtual life is all that I have. I am not allowed to have men in my apartment but one day a month and and no vistors at all after 10 pm. . . along with the random UAs, people question why I live here at all. (it’s mainly because I save boku bux on rent and get to live across the street from my college and job)
I have a similar laundry list of things that I am going to do after I move out….I’ve been here two years- though I may just have more excuses as to why I don’t do what I desire to do.
Thank you for letting me be part of your virtual life. Sometimes I feel like I’m just a pest, a fly on the wall.
So let’s do something!!!!!!
You know, ive been feeling the same way recently. its why i deleted all my myspace friends, got rid of the crap i dont use, and am getting out more.
still have a way to go, but its a process.