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2000-02-09 Everyone wants to talk to me today. I'm just so goddamn popular. Some guy at the coffeehouse wanted to talk to me about my Depth Charge (shot of espresso in a cup of coffee). A messenger and I had a conversation about the Web world -- I explained what a Denial of Service attack was, we talked about MP3.com and his music, I used the term "meta-data" in a sentence. (Minus 5 points for using Pretentious Internet Vocabulary). He was very nice and very friendly, and generally bright if a little stoned. Someone who used to work at my company wanted to chat in the coffeehouse (my second time there) and find out if I knew anyone (myself included) who did freelance work. If I did, I would have hired them myself. But then I'm wearing a shiny red plastic-look shirt, and EVERYONE seems to want to comment about it while I'm wearing it. Vendors, clients, strangers. And of course, people I work with. Ran into an old friend at lunch...we chatted about the Internet biz-ness. Got news about one ex-roommate whom we had both lived with. He asked about the old roommate, the one with whom we are not on speaking terms. My steely reaction about her garnered a "Now-now, don't be bitter" response. But I am still bitter. It's a dislike that I can't let go of. I felt betrayed, used, taken advantage of. Led down the garden path. Our friendship soured, and all the hints and comments to that effect were dismissed. So was the friendship. And she was surprised when it ended that way. I might be able to forgive, but I can't forget. And I don't have the energy to try. Enough of that. Let it go for now. Then there are the various crises, artificial and otherwise, that I've gotten attached to here at work. My brain hurts from having to think so esoterically about what I do.. normally I'm involved in the most concrete parts of the web job -- preparing the files themselves. It's like being the sous chef in a restaurant (or, as we sometimes put it, the guy who makes the fries.) And my wrist hurts again.I suppose 16 hours a day on the computer will do that. It's like my own personal Denial of Service attack, brought about by my own body. And even though they're basically attacking my very livelihood -- the Big Business Internet sites which made millionaires out of hundreds of people and has kept me well-fed and out of trouble for the past few years -- there's still an anarchic part of me that gets a kick out of the attacks. Down with capitalism. Take back the Internet. There's all kinds of flaws in that line of thinking, but I won't go into them. The War Games or Neuromancer fantasy of playing Internet cowboy, of being an 3l33t [email protected] can't let that go either. It's pure fantasy -- I have neither the technical knowledges and tricks nor the desire to deal with the sorts of repercussions of that kind of irresponsible malice. But some days are shiny red shirt days. Some days I just want to be seen, no matter what. _Casey
2003-03-29 - Moving Notice |
