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Rants, raves, and writings for your reading pleasure.

1. blog.myspace.com/dylan_k 12.7.05 / 9pm

   [...] I had a brief bored moment this afternoon. It is a rare thing lately. There it was though, a moment of nothing to do surrounded by two of its opposite moments. I wished I had someone to talk to, so I did what many people do in moments like these, I went out and I said something to someone. Well, I did not really go out. I didn’t really “say” anything, either. So maybe I never really solved the problem of not having someone to talk to, but it seemed like it did. That’s the same thing, really.I sat in front of my computer and navigated to chat room: “romance ..9″, and there I met some people to talk to. Well, I didn’t really “meet” them. I didn’t quite get their names. You see, it’s really loud in a chat room, as you can imagine. You would have to imagine. In such a space, everyone is talking at once, and you have to tell someone’s name by what they look like. Actually, you often have to determine what they look like by the appearance of their name. My name is bad dreamr.Imagine it is difficult to distinguish what people say their names are, due to all the commotion of words everywhere. So many names are taken. I met setanyc141 and rmanticwandrer.I said, “Can I ask a question? Maybe it’s a stupid one”"go ahead”"what is love?”At this time, you will have to imagine, the room full of talking people that we were in, was largely populated by robots. These robots are prostitutes. Already they’ve put the robots to use for mankind’s proverbial oldest profession. It’s difficult because every person in the room must turn off the robot themselves in order for it to leave them alone. The robots are always there. They want to have sex with you. Well, it’s not really “sex” that they want, something like it I suppose. It’s not the same thing, really. Could you imagine a real room full of so many robotic prostitutes?Sometimes it’s hard to tell the people from the robots, so I tried a question only a real person could answer.”love is all a bunch of shit”"would that be your technical definition”"dumbass”Unlike an ordinary room, every one in this room gets to be the one to make the quick witty response, leaving a litany of wit in the wake of any given comment. If only the classroom, the coatroom, the bathroom resembled the chat room in that respect, without the robots of course. “I’ll grant that love may well be a bunch of shit… in your opinion, but you still haven’t said what it is, or why you hate it… what was your name again”"can’t you read?”"One time I thought I had it bad for this one chick, but she up and dumped me. That’s what happens, you get stomped on, so fuck it. Its all a bunch of shit.”"Have you ever lifted weights?”" Sorry, I’m new at this … are you talking to me?.”"Yes”"I don’t see the relevance”" – yet. Answer the question.”"Well, no.”"Well it’s no wonder you don’t understand.”"And why’s that?”"Do you know what a spotter is?”"Yes.”"That’s love”"I don’t understand.”"Can’t you read? It’s all there.”We never really had that conversation. And when I heard a knock at the door to my real room, I deleted the other room, and everyone in it, and the conversation I was having in that room, as well as its participants – I made all of it disappear. It all happened as quickly as I could quit thinking about it. My brief moment of boredom was over, and it was time to return to real life. Whatever that is. NOTE: View my real blog here [...]

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