Tuesday, September 14, 2004 Antefixal The 11th I was busy slacking off from my duties has a superhero and was hiding away methodically typing (in a few of a number of online journals I anonymously keep in order to be able to express myself honestly without any outside interference which allows the material to be extremely abstract or upfront, without the hassle of pen and paper, whatever comes out that day, in such a manner that there is still some interpersonal networking capabilities so information can be passed along to whoever finds it, kinda like leaving your journal on the cosmic coffee table with no name, unlike _________ which I am resigned to leave in concrete so any reader will know what I am going on about and who I am as much as you can from a web based networking site) in abstracts about a various amount of past experiences and new information I gather regularly to expand my knowledge of the control structure all about me. Much of this I am hesitant to really make public in a way which it can be traced to me. So anyway here I am typing along, and I go to save an entry, the computer sputters out and off into the abyss, of words that were written and destroyed, of something that was once but will never be again, of thoughts and memories you’ll never remember, lost in the transfer of 0’s and 1’s and the characters they can represent off into the infinitesimal amounts of deleted data with no place of physical residence through out the cosmos, just information passed from server to server lost in a connection and gone forever, like everything that no one else will ever know about you, I wish I had been writing with a pen. My concerns became greater when I switched to the other site I already had open. Only to find it had also become inoperable, and then the same with _______. So discouraged and a little disappointed I gave up and left to continue on with my day feeling the loss of something I could hardly believe I had actually captured, now eternally unreadable, so close but so far away. My concerns deepened yesterday when I tried log on to that site to find that there servers had been hit by hackers. Now they are still working to get the site up and running again, thankfully they have all the data up through July even though it is currently unavailable, and they are working on retrieving all the deleted or corrupted files, I sincerely hope that the last few months of work of mine have not been lost, it is kind of like a marker in my existence, a way of being able to look back and remember things I might forget otherwise, especially the artistic ideas or description and possible lyrical material like the last entry definitely could have been. Though normally I bust out the pen and paper for lyrics this time they just kind of came out. Pen and paper just seem more personal they have a different dynamic. Given the subject of the bulk of the material I guess it will have to stay with me until I can spit back out and what I can’t remember will be lost. I didn’t really notice at the time but now that ominous date just seems to overshadow everything, so I am trying to fight of the ‘seeing black helicopters’ paranoia, but seriously I cant expect myself to believe that there just happened to be camera’s watching the trade towers at that exact time in the morning not expecting anything to happen, everything just seems too panoramic, like a stage waiting for someone to yell action. Watching that video now seems so eerie but also like it were almost lifetimes ago. So many missing pieces to the puzzle… i have decided that communicating with people over these types of programs as compared to talking to them in person is the same difference as listening to a sonic youth cd or hearing them live...... besides all of that a local whatever you want to call them wants me to submit a poem for their 2005 calender..... i will probably start working on a piece specifically for that, i already have the idea now i just need the words.