Thanks to to my travels with lots of techie friends, life has become richer and expanded its possibilities. Not longer a sesentón in terms of decades but a sesentón, from the perspective of the previous century epoch, is where I am at heart.
My days are spent waiting for my friends, my virtual friends all over the world. Waiting, waiting, waiting for them to chat our days away; away from everything else, old age included. To travel everywhere while remaining in one place.
Waiting to let lose our desires to share and dare to criticize, build up, write about ideas with Auntie, my nick, one of many I use every day, in that space, virtual space.
So many languages to learn, so many places to visit, to be required to speak in a second and third and a fourth dialect. Languages they are not, says my friend the linguist, nicked Theworm.
Theworm writes in one language in the political space, virtual space, and uses another when communicating with the box and its internal wirings and routes.
Theworm forces the chatter to operate in more than one space at any given time and resorts to more than one name to avoid being judged on the name and nothing else.
Some of my techie relatives know I am an old man, and do not care or judge me for calling myself the aunt of virtual space since it is not about me when I chat with them, in that particular place.
Those dancing chips engage literary nieces and nephews - passionate about the written word - in conversations about politics and arts and everything else, so they claim. In order to play, some disguise their identities, drag queens dressed up in chips performing for the virtual world.
Metamorphosis brings me to another space in the Spanish paper where Juruntungo rules, alter ego of someone who goes where his vote will not,
Jurutungo chats in spaces where ideas on politics and the colonial status of countries around the world is the tour de force, and he/she/we are the happiest when arguing against the lady nicked Jezabelle, and her unconditional support of everything American at the expense of everybody else.
Jurutungo and Jezzabelle are known as J & J inside their chatters’ worlds, and they do not visit many of them, unless taken there by forces beyond their control or their faith.
Yes, yes, I am also Jezabelle, a different kind of aunt, listing the pros and cons of life in the hinterlands, chatting about countries not yet appearing in an atlas map. J & J visit and opinionate about spaces and places where she/they/he/it have never been and where they/it never plan to plant their feet.
For Jezabelle, life in those places is so depressing and backwards and underdeveloped and so absent of culture that makes them inhospitable for a lady of her status and class, well dressed, who loves croissants and Gallic culture, canard a la orange and eggs a la bourgeois, foods that the defender of the proletariat, Jurutungo, does not appreciate.
At some microscopic virtual moment, and because he did not know how he/she/whatever got there, to that partictular bits and chips space, Jurutungo decided to stay quiet. He/she/they/it decided to only follow and document the interactions between the chatters engaged in ethnic politics. After all, better be quiet when the space is controlled by a radical paper that never saw a mill, such is life in virtual life, immaterial at its best.
You.S.A opposes the alter ego of Amelatinfrom, ethnocentric, both of them, arguing each other to death of space as many times the server allows us/them to chat without a stop or often forcing us/them to visit other places where, if the true identity is revealed, one will never be invited to participate again. Yet, through clandestine ways we/she/he/whatever can enter into forbidden places and participate, and then to be blocked once the IPI is revealed and disgraced.
How pleasurable is to be both You.S.A and Amelatinfrom, and thanks to faster chips be able to travel from page to page, never breaking the basic moral question asked by Ethicsbaboon with regards to what to say at a particular place or how many routes to take and not hurt the systems electronic vibrations or to force the collapse of the amorphous collective space is the same question that was placed by Dish/re/Garde.
His/hers/ours/ their role is to question and rarely to provide answers except when suggesting roads to take, virtual roads on the way to expansion and clarification and what to do when uncalled nicks or sparking bits brings you to an unwanted space: check who is there, read and agree, read and disagree, or delete, or escape, or simply join and instigate. After all, you are in virtual space.
And instigate is what Jurutungo did when he/she/we saw Jezabelle supporting death penalty as an alternative to expensive long term incarceration or forgiveness for a redemptive soul. Also, there he/she/it was arguing against Jezabelle, yes it was You.S.A; both losing the arguments since their ideas were one and the same
¡Por Dios! si la sintaxis los abruma, pues cojan un taxi, salgan de Ciberlandia y visiten allá fuera otro mundo irreal.