I’m standing on one side of a screen, exposed. You – Rosa - are on the other.
I love you, but I can’t see you, except I can. Not just in my mind, but
in your simulation of self. We’ve been through a lot together. You’re
trapped, I’m not. I’m free, you’re not. Or is it the other way
around?
I fell for you anyway.
What is freedom? I think is this the time to talk about the Internet Liberation
Front. We did a lot, planned a lot, shared a lot. And yet here I am –
“Mollie”. Just as I was there.
I can tell you nothing. And you have told everything. You are anonymous
– I am not. So perhaps – you are the one who is free.
All could be revealed in a moment. You could lose everything. Then I
would be the one who is seemingly free.
I have secrets as well. Most people who know me well in real life know
them. And some people in this non-real part of our real lives do as
well.
They are gone now. So am I. They resigned. I defected. OK, I resigned
as well. Or did I?
What does it mean
to have it all
resting on your tongue
then to swallow?
Do you disappear?
Or just
(…)
//
Preamble II.
I'm pretty cynical about this whole exercise. Have you seen the Digital
Artifacts website?
"What is the impact of the internet and global culture on language and
conceptions of narrative? We invite creative responses that explore
this question, whether through fiction, criticism, experimental prose, or
web-based audio-visual work."
Oh, please. This invitation sounds about as much fun as having a
wisdom tooth removed. But as you ask, here's my take on the impact
of the internet on language and conceptions of narrative:
Don't hang out online with poets. They write in lines that don't reach
the edge of the screen, and you have to scroll a lot. It's not an
efficient use of space.
As with all my best advice, I don't follow it. I hang out online with
the poet who wrote the bit above, and persuaded me to collaborate.
Persuaded me, in short, to have recreational dentistry.
If I tell you that to me, that "must be love", you'll realize how
profoundly, how deeply, how authentically, I am not a poet. But Keats
was wrong: beauty is not truth, and truth is not beauty. It may not be
beautiful, but it is true. I offer my poet the love of an engineer.
We've never met of course. We probably never will. We talk about this,
and my poet looks at my silhouette behind the internet screen and
wonders about me. The greatest truth it conceals is that it conceals
nothing: that shape she can see, that outline, is a truer depiction of
me than any level of detail. A diagram tells you more than a
photograph: any engineer will tell you that.
//
Did she leave as well?
No, not yet, but she
said she would.
It all rests on her now.
Yes, that it does.
I’m anxious. Me too.
Tears, hysteria, madness, womb pain.
Entombed.
//
Though you wouldn't guess it from stuff like this, she is the sane one.
Kind, human, calm, wise. I'm the one who takes lithium and has been
several times institutionalized.
True story.
//
Dear Internet Liberation Front members: Via an anonymous source, it has come to my attention
that Frederick Slippaw is the real life owner of Innovative Collusions, a corporate intelligence firm.
You fucker I trusted you because I was told to by our unit commander.
As such, I cannot in good conscience remain in a leadership position in our struggle.
Or rather, we did it to preserve unity.
I have tried to rectify this situation internally, and with limited success;
She – the commander – is a Leninist. I was, and am, an Anarchist. Full circle, it seems.
however, the sensitive nature of this situation has left me no choice
but to go public with this information.
I saw you as a crow.
I wish you all the best, and it is my hope that the Internet Liberation Front will one day
represent a true revolutionary vision not just for the virtual world, but for the real world as
well.
Then teleported away for good.
Sincerely,
//
Reality is the poetry of the gods: meaningless in itself, and designed
only to bring out to us the true meaning of certain words.
Not true, of course: except perhaps in the case of Mr. Slippaw,
whose entire existence will probably never serve any purpose more useful to
humanity than revealing the astonishingly multi-layered depth and
wonder of wisdom wrapped in the simple word "schmuck".
//
A fantasy:
You miserable fuck if this was real
life I would probably shoot you.
Dead.
Then find what was left
of you on the Internet.
Shoot that as well.
Then I would find all your friends,
and if they didn’t admit the truth.
well, I would shoot them as well.
//
A reality: not only wouldn't she, if she ever found you hurt she'd
labour to save your miserable life. But it's not likely: spies don't
fight on battlefields. They sneak into your camp, pretending to be with
you, while scribbling down your plans to sell to others. The only risk
you ever faced was writer's cramp.
//
Trotskyist-Leninist-altermondialistes.
Artistic savant programmer despots.
Heartsick syndicalist former commandos.
Intelligence-gathering Athenian democrats.
Anarcho-stalinists.
//
Oh, I remember this one! How does it go?
Whiskers on kittens and rain drops on noses,
Liberal journos with radical poses,
Boss's nark techies all tied up with string,
These are a few of our favourite things.
I always knew there was more to the excitement I felt about Julie
Andrews than the fact that she dressed in a nun's costume. But, well,
that's probably still most of it.
//
Regarding the ILF are we honestly supposed to believe a couple of
hardup lesbian anarchists - one of whom clearly is desperate for the
limelight (just google her name and groan).
Indeed – many have. I worship for the day when you will be one of the
wide eyed, torn mango ripe, Awake.
BTW I can now see why the forums were closed down
All power to the avatars –
//
Ah, that other phenomenon of internet language: the "flame".
Being abused by this idiot, bigoted wanker - this trainee human
paper-weight, this wasted repository of donor organs – as I stood
shoulder to shoulder with my beloved Mollie, was one of the proudest and
most joyful moments I have ever experienced.
Not all flames burn. I warmed myself in the glow of this one.
//
I already don't have any respect for Mollie Steimer due to his
Marxist politics,
fuck off I’m an anarchist lesbian you lonely dirtbag and no I’m not
part of the conspiracy to bring you down I really could care less besides
once a landlord always a landlord and yes that includes virtual
landlords
but if he has trawled the Internet looking to out Frederick Slippaw
more like the filthy bloodstained lucre was falling out of his
Batista-scented pockets if anything critique me for not acting quick
enough and trusting the whole concept of united fronts rather than
following my own justicia
he's even more despicable. Or is he? I can only say this issue has to
be debated.
well ok then ma’am.
//
Can you hear the friendly crackling flames as our enemies set fire to
themselves in the hope we'll be singed by the heat they give off?
After a hard-day's whistle-blowing on corporate narks and their
hangers-on, Mollie and I would sit close to these human
torches, toasting marsh-mellows and giggling.
//
Conclusion I.
The now scarcely found Leninist speaks:
1) I'm not an avatar and I'm not fighting for avatar power. I'm a human
being and I'm fighting to be free.
We talked about Carlo,
overlooking an ocean. It was a Che kind of love, then we got to work.
As much as I detest the idea of vanguards, I trusted you because of our
bond. That is what did it for me.
2) Don't trust random fucks.
We all but knew each other in real life. Not only is that how it felt,
that is how it was, and is. Why not have revolution here? Why not have
revolution everywhere? What is revolution if it is not in the All of
All?
3) Do trust your instincts.
I didn’t and yet –
4) Doesn't this all just make you want to fight the corporations and
their slimy hangers-on even more than before?
I vanished –
//
Conclusion II
From the online self-description of Frederick Slippaw, founder of the above-mentioned ILF, featured on television and in print around the world, and exposed as corporate intelligence gatherer by a couple of deadbeat anarchists:
"Former President of the Internet Liberation Front
Now virtual political consultant"
Returning to the theme of Digital Artifacts, how might I express my
feelings about this in the language of the internet?
:-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-) :-)
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