God damn the pusher man

I am the pusher man. Ok, not so much. But there are those moments. Where you buy a thing, a concept, a hobby, an interest, an activity. Where a friend pumps you up, gets you interested, and you start thinking, and then doing. Where (s)he is the pusher man, and you are thinking junkie thoughts. […]

I am the pusher man.

Ok, not so much. But there are those moments. Where you buy a thing, a concept, a hobby, an interest, an activity. Where a friend pumps you up, gets you interested, and you start thinking, and then doing. Where (s)he is the pusher man, and you are thinking junkie thoughts.

And then a while later, you are the pusher man and you are telling a friend, go, do, buy, want, use, like, have, be.

It’s a funny thing.

This can be religion for those who do that drug. This can be something scary like a drug or a dangerous habit that could get you killed. This can be a sport. This can be some stupid hobby or other.

But there seem to be those moments where there’s a bump from someone that moves us in some direction.

Peer pressure? I dunno.

Sometimes it’s funny the things that can come from a minor choice; giving in and doing something you’re pushed into. Sometimes bad, clearly. That’s obvious. Who hasn’t smoked a cigarette because a friend said it would make you cool, or done another shot or three or five because your friends chant ‘drink drink drink’. Some of us have gone further, dropping or swallowing or snorting or smoking or shooting based on what our peers do or like or use or think is cool. And while a lot of that is harmless fun, sometimes it’s not harmless.

But that’s not what I’m talking about. We know that story, first hand or second or from a book or a film or the front page. I’m talking about the silly, foolish things that our friends get us doing, or that we get our friends doing.

Here’s an example; “Hi, I’m Karl, and I’m a fish-geek”.

I used to have that bad. I maxed out at fourteen fish tanks. I used to spend my weekends cleaning tanks and hanging out at fish shops, posting on *aquaria* newsgroups, debating about filters, pumps, heating systems, live food vs. frozen vs. dry. You get the idea. Hard-core geekery.

This started because a friend of mine had the bug. I used to drink and party at his house, and stare at his fish tanks. And then one day he said it; “Hey, you should start up a tank, I’ll help you.”

And I did. Went off. Bought a tank. And got it going. And then wanted another. And then he laughed at me; “sucker, I got you hooked!” We called him ‘the fish pusher after that.

And then I needed to get other friends into the hobby. “A tank would look great here!” I’d say. “You need a bigger tank,” I’d say to the ones who had one little tank.

And I was the fish pusher.

Silly, huh? But you know, it all started with a bump.

I started writing the same way. Long, ages ago, someone I was talking to, flirting with, said “You should try to write me some erotica.” And so I did. And started something that, who knows, might never have gotten started.

A lotta years later, someone else said “You should write something for me.” And I did. And somehow, this hooked me into reading blogs of other writers, and started me writing again.

One little bump. And things fall like dominos.

Out of that, I found a slew of new friends, started blogging (another bump, a push, ‘you should start a blog’, ‘why don’t you start blogging’, and somehow I’ve joined some sort of tribe). And somewhere in there found a story I had to let out of my skull which opened new areas of my life, proved to me I am in fact a writer, and has made a couple of friendships that might never have happened otherwise (That story has been talked about before, “Wanton“, an erotic novella).

One comment – ‘You should try writing a story’. The ripples spread.

Recently two friends, after reading my blog, started blogging. I can’t say I made them do so. But with both, I had conversations about the whys and the what I do it for and with one, Austin Ray, I actually said “Dude, you have something to say, you should blog.” And so he did. So with both, there’s the bump.

And I am the pusher man.

I don’t really do this stuff on purpose. But I do it; ‘read this book’, ‘you’ll like this album’, ‘ever heard of of a band called…’. Maybe it’s a compulsion to share pleasures. Maybe it’s the same reason I always want to fuck people I like; ‘This is good, have some!’.

I dunno. It’s a pattern though. Have a hit, catch a buzz, pass the pipe along. We’re all brothers now, man.

It’s not a compulsion to belong. I don’t tend to do things just because my friends do them. I tend not to follow fashions, or to drive what my buddies drive, or watch what they watch (I generally resist when people say “watch this show”), or read what they read. I think it’s more about knowing; that’s what I was doing, I told myself, when I started blogging. Just wanted to know how the tool worked. Curiosity. Maybe, in a tribe of friends physically far apart, it’s a need for shared experience. It’s akin to hanging out on a saturday afternoon, drinking a beer and watching a game. When friends are distributed far and wide, have disparate backgrounds, different tribal language, there’s a drive to find commonality. So we forge a new shared interest to connect our worlds. When one has good, truly good friends that one has never met, maybe it’s a device we use to tattoo on our tribal marks.

Friends far apart. And there I’m veering into another topic, which I think I’ll shelve for another entry.


Damn, right in the middle of this entry, there was a chocolate-fueled child disaster including silly-putty stuffed into a TiVo remote, a screaming jag and a lot of sulking. I wish I had a good joke about ‘…And that’s just what I did…’ but I can’t quite seem to get there. Ah, parenthood. Who decided that certain holidays should be all about stuffing kids full of chocolate and sugar (kid-crack, I tellya) as if this was a good thing? You know it only means someone’s gonna wind up crying and something’s going to wind up broken. Actually it’s sort of like saint patrick’s day or mardi-gras, I guess it’s only fair the kids get one also, but next time, maybe I should go elsewhere until it’s all over.

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Should I stay or should I go now?

A little more orkut talk. Click away now if you’re sick to death. I think the fun, as expected, is leaking slowly out. This isn’t to say I’m leaving. This isn’t to say I’m not enjoying it anymore. But we’re still in that fast-forward state, the evolution of an on-line community, in exaggerated time-lapse. It’s […]

A little more orkut talk. Click away now if you’re sick to death.

I think the fun, as expected, is leaking slowly out.

This isn’t to say I’m leaving. This isn’t to say I’m not enjoying it anymore. But we’re still in that fast-forward state, the evolution of an on-line community, in exaggerated time-lapse.

It’s funny to watch. Parts are falling off the car as fast as we put them back on.

Several isolated things:

-Friends I’ve invited are saying “I just don’t know about this thing”. And I tell them, “I don’t know either.”

-People who were complaining about not really getting much out of it are now dating people IRL that they met on orkut.

-People who were having a blast, just loving this thing, are now getting to the point where they’re leaving, or thinking of leaving.

-A friend who was having a great time being ‘someone else’ is now having a hard time with the way this is at odds with a call to ‘be yourself’.

-I’m suddenly losing the inspiration for writing testimonials. I blame Ray for this, but that’s a dodge. It’s either that I am seeing the first leading edge of a loss of interest, or my muse has simply deserted me again and gone on holiday. She does this, usually just when I need her.

We’re seeing the typical group problems. “Me Too” posting, people who think they need to answer every post in every forum. Fights over stupid shit. On the other hand, we’re seeing some good debate, or at least a little of it. The community format does not lend itself well to good debate when posts max at 2048 characters, but still, there’s some good.

But I think we’re already seeing problems of scale, and orkut is, still, very small. One of the advantages at startup is that it was very, very fast. Suddenly, it’s not, and many times of day, it’s hard to get in at all. More important though is that the communities are suddenly getting crowded and since we’re still seeing dozens created every day, it gets harder and harder to track where your friends are and where the good conversations are happening.

This is all stuff you’d expect. But the interesting thing is, it’s happening so fast. We’re seeing decades of USENET and months or years of some other forums compressed into days or weeks here. And it’s not obvious why.

I had a conversation with my dear friend Squidgirl a couple of days ago about the sudden tide change. We agreed it somehow happened around the beginning of April, somewhere between March 31 and April 5. What exactly the change was remains unclear, but there was a sense that someone let some of the air out of the balloon. It’s still up there, yeah, but not so high, and not so happy, and there’s that feeling that it’s slowly sinking.

I switched metaphors there, but who’s keeping score anyway?

There was a change. The date range that we observed there may not be exactly right or consistent for everyone. But it changed in a tangible way.

It’s still fun though. Old friends are still sparring and flirting, re-connecting after many years. New friends are mixing in socially. Connections are made between disparate friend units. There’s fun and there’s value. It’s a silly, light-weight experience.

Where’s it gonna go? I don’t know. I don’t have much faith in the people who run it, but they may surprise me. They have built a clever, inviting interface that’s easy to use and easy to get used to. And they’re working on bettering it. It’s not clear though, if they’re just tinkering or if they’re really working on the fundamental issues. They’re not saying. It’s not clear if they even know the issues exist.

I hope it settles down, once the freshness wears off, and matures into something useful. It has the potential. But the pull of entropy is strong when you attempt social engineering. I don’t know if these people are good enough to overcome the inherent problems, or if the culture that will grow will be a mature enough one to thrive.

Again – we shall see.

There’s a lotta sex in the air though. And that suits me fine. That alone calls me back, the bee buzzing from flower to flower. “Just one more, just one more…”

But you know, if I could get that muse back, maybe I could chuck orkut and get back to some writing.

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And through the wire…

This started as a comment on an entry titled “Is it wrong?” on the Solipsisters blog. But then I felt an essay coming on (and you know how you know when an essay is coming on? You ears start to go numb, and your smile gets bigger and bigger and bigger), and so decided to […]

This started as a comment on an entry titled “Is it wrong?” on the Solipsisters blog. But then I felt an essay coming on (and you know how you know when an essay is coming on? You ears start to go numb, and your smile gets bigger and bigger and bigger), and so decided to move it on over to my space and not take up theirs.

You might read the above linked entry for context, it’s short. Basically it’s about how odd it is to “meet” people over the internet To play roles and find mutual desire for what are, in effect, pretend personae, but also behind these masks, maybe real people.

It’s an interesting thing, “meeting” people over the internet. The faces turned to the light are, sometimes, only those we choose to show. To quote the old New Yorker cartoon (and I’ve lost my link to the actual cartoon, I must find it), “On the internet, nobody knows I’m a dog”.

Thus can I be, in some forum somewhere, a pirate or conan the barbarian, ming the merciless, the sheik of araby (Well at night where you’re asleep Into your tent I’ll creep), or a master of slaves on some counter-earth. You, you can be the mysterious temptress, the super-villainess with thigh-high boots and whip, the wicked schoolgirl, the willing slave, the haughty business woman, the tavern wench.

Or I can be me and you can be you. And we never really know where one ends and the other begins.

And through the wire I hear your voice
And through the wire I touch the power
And through the wire I see your face
It’s through the wire

–Peter Gabriel, ‘And Through The Wire’

It’s a dance, sometimes. Do we want truth? Fiction? Do we care or want to know? Is the illusion better, or in fact, the real point?

But who are you really?

Some people don’t seem to play this. You get face value. On the internet, they say, I am a dog. really_a_dog@no_really_a_dog.com. But even then, it’s only the words they give, only the side they share. They may not, truly, control what they’re showing, but still it’s a flat two-dimensional image presented over the wire.

It’s different now, year-of-our-lard 2004, where the internet is made of pictures and sounds and video and real-time chat. There was a time when the internet was only words, and our interaction was in a space where we could and did hide, or reveal, based only on words. And where we used facilities provided by employer or school, and thus had an authority to answer to, sometimes, for what we did and said and presented. Now, today, I’m not a name and a set of words, I’m a picture and a web site and an identity that’s as much larger than life as I make it. I’m the devil on fire (thanks, Paul!), I’m the laser-eyed bastard, I’m the sullen kilted warrior. Whatever I want. A digital camera and a whack or two with photoshop, I’m any and all and more.

With all this, though, an interesting thing happens. With all the roll play and unknown ‘reality’, one connects. One finds a point of common ground, respect, shared interest, atraction. One finds a dialog, sometimes public, sometimes words whispered off in the shadows.

Real friendships are born out of the game play and the masks. Which is what makes it worthwhile. Yes, the game itself if fun. The picture one hides behind, the persona made of smoke and mirrors and reality, in a shifting array. The reveal, hide reveal game of internet dialog. But when the game grows old, and it does grow old, you’re left with real connections. Sometimes close, sometimes far, half a world or a continent away.

But then a funny thing happens sometimes. Sometimes you meet in real life.

This was a little different, again, in the old days. There was a time when most of the internet, outside colleges, was here, in silicon valley. Where if you met someone on line, like as not, they were within an hour’s drive of San Francisco in one direction or another. Now, the internet is as global as people are, and my friends may live on any continent, in any time zone.

It’s a funny thing though, meeting people you “know”. Because you never really are sure who, what you’re meeting, how they compare with the fantasy, the image, the imagined person behind the name. Even if pictures have been shared, and today, they so often are, it;s so very different when there’s a voice, a form. People are so much more than what they say in writing, what they show in a photo. They’re body language, gestures, mannerisms. Nervous silence. Skin tone, eye contact, smells and laughter.

I’ve met people who proved to be all they showed on line and more. And others, brilliant in writing, who cannot maintain a conversation or meet my eye. I’ve met people who are stunning in person but fear to share a photo, people with whom I clicked on line but found nothing there in person. Some of these relationships were cemented, permanently, by a meeting. Others were in effect ended by meeting face to face.

One always wonders. If I meet you, will it be like this? Or like that? Will we find the human connection endures when the wire is shortened? Or will it prove to be as ephemeral as the internet itself, elusive and spoiled when the mystery is removed?

And here we are back to me – I will always choose the real over the pretend. The flawed reality over the image of perfection. Live music over the studio, amateur porn over glossy professional. I’d rather know a real person with quirks and oddities and imperfections over the shiny, pretty picture shown to the public. For me, real itself is attractive.

Your mileage, as they say, may vary.

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More orkutful entries

So if you are bored to tears with the whole orkut thing, you can skip this, or you can come over, strip down, and give me something novel to write about. Meanwhile, just an update on the sacrifice and rebirth story. And incidently, people on the Apple corporate campus stopped me today to talk about […]

So if you are bored to tears with the whole orkut thing, you can skip this, or you can come over, strip down, and give me something novel to write about.

Meanwhile, just an update on the sacrifice and rebirth story.

And incidently, people on the Apple corporate campus stopped me today to talk about orkut. People who know me there but don’t know me in real life. This is getting odd.

So the story to date. Account suspended, no reason given. Next to no response from the admins. No clear solid idea of why (though many theories, some of which involve alien abduction and possibly probing).

I created a temporary account for a while under an alternate name, but finally gave up in frustration, and created a new account under my right name. That’s there now: http://www.orkut.com/Profile.aspx?uid=2663013159414803051.

Thus far, no reaction from the orkut people. No details on why I was 86’d, no warnings or notice from them since I’ve been back. Though I seem to have become some odd sort of folk hero, along with several other well-known users who are having problems.

Hey, I need someone who can draw to make me up a Che Guevara lookin’ version of me. Damn, one ‘o those moments where I wish I was all artistic n’ shit.

So as predicted, the giddy fun is beginning to drain away. I don’t know if something good and useful will be left in it’s place, or if we’ll be left with the wreckage of something that almost happened but was killed by it’s own makers. We’ll see. It has promise; the interface is so friendly and inviting, and the concept is sound. It’s only a case of too much mindless policing and not enough communication, at least thus far.

By the way, I meant to thank Mad Kiwi, both for an example of how others had implemented Movable Style‘s Style Switcher, and for a really entertaining little javascript I swiped from him – you’ll see an example here under the “about” heading, it just does a little randomized nonsense with a hot link. Tip ‘o the hat to ‘ya, Kiwi.

Ok. I hope that this means I’m done talking about Orkut. I have better things to write about, including a reprise of the ‘secrets, but not my secrets’ theme that I saw taken up on the solipsisters blog, and possibly other matters of the heart and mind, but let’s save it all for an orkut-free entry later.

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Fuck the MAN!

Up against the wall, Okut. The King is back: new Karl Elvis account. I got fed up. I’m finding “I was deleted” and “I was suspended” groups on orkut now, and I can do more to FIGHT THE POWER from the inside. Friend me. I’m trying to limit how many I go friend too fast […]

Up against the wall, Okut.

The King is back: new Karl Elvis account.

I got fed up. I’m finding “I was deleted” and “I was suspended” groups on
orkut now, and I can do more to FIGHT THE POWER from the inside.

Friend me. I’m trying to limit how many I go friend too fast to keep outta jail. But if you’re reading, you’re my friend.

My friend Ray mailed me some great sentiments on how to make orkut work from the inside. With his permission I’ll post some of it later.

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Boo-Ya!

Ok. We have style-switching. Thanks to scott from movablestyle.com for the code and some pointers to how I’d done it wrong, and to Seth for doing the web server config for me even though he’s got much more important things to do with his time right now. Do me a favor. Since I’ve spent my […]

Ok. We have style-switching. Thanks to scott from movablestyle.com for the code and some pointers to how I’d done it wrong, and to Seth for doing the web server config for me even though he’s got much more important things to do with his time right now.

Do me a favor. Since I’ve spent my stupid saturday working on this stupid thing instead of being in the sun or playing laser tag with my kids (kids with lasers!). Play with the style switcher. Tell me what you like and don’t like. Tell me your favorite styles. Which one you want as default. Tell me you love me and want to bear my children (yeah, you too Lee).

This has been an orkut-free posting. We return to bitching shortly.

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And now a geek interlude

You may notice we’re now outside the matrix. I’m working on Style Switcher again. I’m close. So damned, fucking close. Patience. We’ll have that matrix style back in the switcher shortly, for those as liked it. Hang on. Any second now, one more tweak, I’ve got it. I can feel it.

You may notice we’re now outside the matrix.

I’m working on Style Switcher again. I’m close. So damned, fucking close. Patience. We’ll have that matrix style back in the switcher shortly, for those
as liked it. Hang on. Any second now, one more tweak, I’ve got it. I can feel it.

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Obsession – Sweet dreams

Ok. If I were a little different, I might be ashamed to admit this. But I – as some may know – have no shame. I actually had an erotic dream about someone from Orkut last night. And no it’s not you. Those of you who just assumed it was. Though get in line, if […]

Ok. If I were a little different, I might be ashamed to admit this.

But I – as some may know – have no shame.

I actually had an erotic dream about someone from Orkut last night.

And no it’s not you. Those of you who just assumed it was. Though get in line, if I have my way, next time, it will be. Oh to be able to lucid dream and have control of it.

But no, it was someone sort of randomly outside the circle of people I really know and hang out with on Orkut, though of course it was someone on my now-missing friend list. And yes, I already told that person in email, so if you’re still wondering if it’s you, check your email.

But I guess this could mean I’m a little obsessed. Hell if I know, I majored in getting stoned, I skipped class the 8 years we studied dreams.


So other notes –

“Just a gigolo”, quoted a couple entries back. That’s the real version. Not recent covers. No disrespect to Diamond Dave, but that song’s all King Louis’.

Updates on the saga of the suspended account? Fucking bupkis.

Though by all means, tell orkut’s Powers That Suck to let me the hell out. Note that there’s a help case number there now which may get your opinion registered in the actual ticket. Or may not, who knows.

Now I need to go write some dirty stories while I pretend to work. And pause now and then to shake my fist in mute impotent (heh) fury at the universe.

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We’re here to help you

Here’s the response. After my beating and beating and beating at them, and after all-y’all’s beating at them, here’s what I get from Orkut’s support staff, who, I might add, put one in the mind of the Bastard Operator: We’re sorry about the difficulties you’re having. Could you please send us your username and the […]

Here’s the response. After my beating and beating and beating at them, and after all-y’all’s beating at them, here’s what I get from Orkut’s support staff, who, I might add, put one in the mind of the Bastard Operator:

We’re sorry about the difficulties you’re having. Could you please send us
your username and the full name that is displayed in your orkut profile so
we can take a look at your account?

Well. Gee. How many times have I told them that already?

Sigh.

I guess that’s progress. We’ll see.

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What will they say about me?

There will come a day And youth will pass away What will they say about me When the end comes I know they’ll say just a gigolo Life goes on without me I’m just a gigolo, everywhere I go people know the part I’m playing paid for every dance starting each romance oh what their […]

There will come a day
And youth will pass away
What will they say about me

When the end comes I know
they’ll say just a gigolo
Life goes on without me

I’m just a gigolo, everywhere I go
people know the part I’m playing
paid for every dance
starting each romance
oh what their saying

And there will come a day
And youth will pass away
What will they say about me?

No word from orkut. Not a fucking PEEP.

How do I loath thee? Let me count the goddamned ways. Nuff ta drive a man ta the drinkin’ if-you-know-what-I-mean.

But you people? You rock. Love you each and every one.

Keep those cards and letters going to admin@orkut.com. Protest.

And ladies? Send me the love. Send kisses. Send panties!

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