( Blog Banter Home Land )
"But whether the plan of immersion Is better than simple aspersion Let those immersed And those aspersed Decide by the Authorized Version, And by matching their agues tertian."
- Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary
Undocked into the void scampered across the sea of darkness whimpering metal torn and flung far against the cold empty death, plunged and penetrated, enveloped without and within the very soul foundation of life... Consider the herculean efforts imposed by a world in which a vast universe of players, developers, designers, and pixels collide across the vastness of the internet vacuum tubes and pulleys, to create a complex, interactive, three dimensional playground. Consider that.
My Great Grand Father appeared to me in a Time Machine that he had built back in 1933, the contraption popped into my studio office in a great clang of Twilight Zone shimmering effects. The young man exhaled and looked me square in the face. He said, I only have three or four minutes before the time vortex pulls me back to my own time! Show me the wonders of the future Grandson!!! I swung my monitor close and I showed him Eve ( I also told him a black man was President and we had landed men on the moon ) but what better represented the future than a world united in a virtual playground, many nations, many people, experiencing something together. At least in my home studio? Sadly my Grand Father snapped and called me names before that damn time vortex sucked his sorry ass back to lame old 1933. Not sure if it was Eve or Barack Obama that tipped him over the edge.
Flipping through the channels of my youth, the click buzz of wonderous three channel variety, my fingers raw from the serrated plastic ribs on the big dial. Click Logan's Run, Click Planet of the Apes, Click Kolchak the Night Stalker, Click Project Blue Book, Click Battlestar Galactica, Click Buck Rodgers... I ate at the table of science fiction and devoured every fast food meal, the self-indulgent clap trap crap of a generation without imagination and the early wanderings of pure Rod Serling genius. I watched models fly sideways against stain colored planets, die scape oil drug induced trips and polyester skin tight lunacy. I lived it, ate it, and shat it all out on pen and paper. And now I undock in it. I SPIN IT! So damn you nineteen seventies, damn you to HELL! Eat my Eve you goddamn decade of waste.
Jump, splash, swim.
I am logged on. Logged in. Jacked into a virtual playground of the mind, visualized on a pixel level that spins, twirls and twists. Surrounded by the world, my friends from far-flung Scandinavia, Upside down Australia, Vodka swollen Baltic nations, and heat-induced Camel Spider infested occupying forces. Immerse yourself. I owe no one an explanation. I have jumped in. And I damn well plan on swimming further out to sea.
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