Friday, July 11, 2008


Saturday, October 26, 2002
You don't fool me for one second mister...

Lisa wants me to serialize my life, because it means that at least one of us will leave some sort of impression once we're dead. I was quite taken by the idea of using a nuclear-proof medium in which to record on. Survivors of the forthcoming holocaust will be able to read this and take comfort in the banal yet comforting normality of my life. I might even be made a God by some primitive proto-society, some desperate band of people trying to get humanity back on its feet. Like that band of feral children in Mad Max 3: Beyond Thunderdome. I will be deified, instead of reviled, for my mediocrity.

So I typed in the relevant information and - hey presto! - here we are. Yet another person vying for a complete and total stranger's attention in an increasingly detached and indifferent world.

Lisa wasn't very impressed. She simply took one look at the page and made that disappointed noise she makes. I'm sure you're familiar with it. Everybody is familiar with disappointment. It sort of sounds like breathing, but there's a distinct emphasis on the out-take of breath. I can't spell it. How do you spell the sound of disappointment? I'm sure there's a "p" in it somewhere. Probabaly an "f" too. Regardless she was very disappointed. She's decided to use the rather quaint method of writing a diary. Jesus! Get with the times, Lisa! Can't you see where we are? We have access to all this technology and all you want to use paper?

That's the beauty of it all. After all, writing is abstract. But with this you don't even have anything as tangible as a piece of paper in your hand, telling you it's all real. I am a phantasm. And in possibly twenty years, people will doubt that I ever existed at all. Well why should I justify my existence to you? I don't even know you.

Please tell all your friends about me.
posted by Chin at 1:32 PM

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