One for the trashy blond, and one for this blog
I initially decided I would take a respite from writing on this blog. A friend advised me that I should stop escaping life through words and the fictive cyberspace and maybe face reality for a change.
But cyberspace is very seductive.
Very seductive indeed.
But the ease of delving in cyberspace and “being” in cyberspace, so uncomplicated, where manifestation of any kind is unnecessary. Its like the medieval beatific vision of God. Eternal contemplation of the Divine, in one latitude for all eternity.
This is cyberspace.
And who in the right mind would refuse that?
I can’t. And the possibility of contemplating the Divine in one latitude is too tempting even pour moi..
So I take to my keyboard once more and avert facing reality, much to my friend’s chagrin and disappointment. And write from the heart about one awkward moment in a succession of many, that have passed, are happening and yet to come.
Long time ago, eight summers and nine years, when my hair was cheaply dyed and I thought hand bracelets are actually sexy, I met one fine gentleman, whose charm and grace I have yet to see again.
He was one of those people who could converse about anything and make it sound so engaging and interesting in such a way. He would have made a great diplomat, if his mind was not oriented elsewhere.
Now I only have but very fond memories of this gentleman. No grudges, no animosities, we left on such cordial terms, and I always think fondly of him and the moments we shared together.
To me he is not a gentleman caller. He is just a gentleman.
But too much for peace and cordiality. And watch out for trashy blonds.
My gentleman inherited a weakness that plagues the entire male sex. A weak spot for blonds.
And the wonder of cyberspace is also a reason for agony.
And the unbridled freedom and porousness of this space is a reason for the violation of personal secrets and memories.
I would have loved nothing more in this world than to keep this memory intact. Intact of any infringement either of blonds or brunettes. I would have loved if my gentleman remained just a gentleman.
Not an eligible bachelor or a good fuck for my friends to pass around and circulate like postcards.
But be ware what you could use for your benefit could be used against you. And cyberspace is not just an abstract space, sadly, its visual and sonic as well.
I wake up one day to find that my gentleman, like so many before him, joined the ranks of blond-smitten-ass-holes.
In my frantic effort to try to salvage one memory of being violated, I realize its useless. Too late.
One more for the trashy blond, one more for my blog.
But cyberspace is very seductive.
Very seductive indeed.
But the ease of delving in cyberspace and “being” in cyberspace, so uncomplicated, where manifestation of any kind is unnecessary. Its like the medieval beatific vision of God. Eternal contemplation of the Divine, in one latitude for all eternity.
This is cyberspace.
And who in the right mind would refuse that?
I can’t. And the possibility of contemplating the Divine in one latitude is too tempting even pour moi..
So I take to my keyboard once more and avert facing reality, much to my friend’s chagrin and disappointment. And write from the heart about one awkward moment in a succession of many, that have passed, are happening and yet to come.
Long time ago, eight summers and nine years, when my hair was cheaply dyed and I thought hand bracelets are actually sexy, I met one fine gentleman, whose charm and grace I have yet to see again.
He was one of those people who could converse about anything and make it sound so engaging and interesting in such a way. He would have made a great diplomat, if his mind was not oriented elsewhere.
Now I only have but very fond memories of this gentleman. No grudges, no animosities, we left on such cordial terms, and I always think fondly of him and the moments we shared together.
To me he is not a gentleman caller. He is just a gentleman.
But too much for peace and cordiality. And watch out for trashy blonds.
My gentleman inherited a weakness that plagues the entire male sex. A weak spot for blonds.
And the wonder of cyberspace is also a reason for agony.
And the unbridled freedom and porousness of this space is a reason for the violation of personal secrets and memories.
I would have loved nothing more in this world than to keep this memory intact. Intact of any infringement either of blonds or brunettes. I would have loved if my gentleman remained just a gentleman.
Not an eligible bachelor or a good fuck for my friends to pass around and circulate like postcards.
But be ware what you could use for your benefit could be used against you. And cyberspace is not just an abstract space, sadly, its visual and sonic as well.
I wake up one day to find that my gentleman, like so many before him, joined the ranks of blond-smitten-ass-holes.
In my frantic effort to try to salvage one memory of being violated, I realize its useless. Too late.
One more for the trashy blond, one more for my blog.
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