Thursday, 18 October 2007
To Begin With...
I am not a techno-literate human being. It took me fifteen minutes just to figure out how to turn on my first computer when I was thirteen years old. I was anticipating this revolutionary upgrade of our low-tech family home with baited breath. It is possible I may have even jerked off to the thought the night before.
A TV-like box including a keyboard and mouse attached that could connect and navigate through a vast stretching web of infinite possibilities with endless communication capabilities. All thanks to some fragile circuitry boards and rivers of wires fused together I would finally comprehend the digital world that so many had already grown-up with and become experts on.
Imagine my surprise when the dusty, 80's designed monitor and second hand hard-drive were set down on my rickety retractable desk top. I mean the 'thing' was a relic back when the Berlin Wall came down. But ever the optimist back then, I figured; "What the hell? Its still a computer."
First, to turn the fucker on. The 'event' consisted of much fumbling, pressing and jamming of fingers, arranging nests of intertwined cables to suit their respective sockets; a rather clumsy affair that could be likened to one losing their virginity, or so to speak. This of course being a technological sort of devirginizing. At once exciting, painful, sweaty, humiliating, but ultimately very disappointing. The thing finally beeped on and made a few click noises only to come up with an already out dated Windows 95 program. Plus as I discovered days later, it was also incapable of connecting to the Internet, and incompatible with my brand spanking new printer. It was an obsolete piece of machinery for a technophobic teenager. A match made in hell. But we made it work. As the years went by we became inseparable. Thick as thieves, it's Laurel to my Hardy, peas in a fucking pod you might say. The day it finally died a piece of me died with it. It was buried next to my two deceased budgies in the car park under a brush of trees with a homemade cross piercing the top soil to signify its passing. I still go back to visit it sometimes, paying my respects to a bygone era, shedding tears over the times and files we shared.
Fast forward a decade later and here I am typing furiously away on my 'Acer Laptop' on a version of 'Windows XP.' An expert in computer seduction and mastery. My fingers engaging in its software complexities like that of a smooth player expertly flicking open the padlock on the back of a woman's bra. However, I am still questioning the nature of a 'blog' and what its purpose is. So, I'm gonna wing it here and assume my surplus of self absorbed, cynical and deconstructive ramblings will act as a nice preamble to my my very thick line in bullshit.
My name is Louis, and with God willing this will be my blog home for some time to come.
A TV-like box including a keyboard and mouse attached that could connect and navigate through a vast stretching web of infinite possibilities with endless communication capabilities. All thanks to some fragile circuitry boards and rivers of wires fused together I would finally comprehend the digital world that so many had already grown-up with and become experts on.
Imagine my surprise when the dusty, 80's designed monitor and second hand hard-drive were set down on my rickety retractable desk top. I mean the 'thing' was a relic back when the Berlin Wall came down. But ever the optimist back then, I figured; "What the hell? Its still a computer."
First, to turn the fucker on. The 'event' consisted of much fumbling, pressing and jamming of fingers, arranging nests of intertwined cables to suit their respective sockets; a rather clumsy affair that could be likened to one losing their virginity, or so to speak. This of course being a technological sort of devirginizing. At once exciting, painful, sweaty, humiliating, but ultimately very disappointing. The thing finally beeped on and made a few click noises only to come up with an already out dated Windows 95 program. Plus as I discovered days later, it was also incapable of connecting to the Internet, and incompatible with my brand spanking new printer. It was an obsolete piece of machinery for a technophobic teenager. A match made in hell. But we made it work. As the years went by we became inseparable. Thick as thieves, it's Laurel to my Hardy, peas in a fucking pod you might say. The day it finally died a piece of me died with it. It was buried next to my two deceased budgies in the car park under a brush of trees with a homemade cross piercing the top soil to signify its passing. I still go back to visit it sometimes, paying my respects to a bygone era, shedding tears over the times and files we shared.
Fast forward a decade later and here I am typing furiously away on my 'Acer Laptop' on a version of 'Windows XP.' An expert in computer seduction and mastery. My fingers engaging in its software complexities like that of a smooth player expertly flicking open the padlock on the back of a woman's bra. However, I am still questioning the nature of a 'blog' and what its purpose is. So, I'm gonna wing it here and assume my surplus of self absorbed, cynical and deconstructive ramblings will act as a nice preamble to my my very thick line in bullshit.
My name is Louis, and with God willing this will be my blog home for some time to come.
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