More Waiting

My obsession for gadgetry is looming into the realm of insanity. There is always something more that I want, the list is getting longer with each conscious moment. It's a matter of timing which prevents me from fulfilling my desire for more. Always more! It is the insanity of modern times. There seems to be a gadget for every nuance of existence. What I am waiting for is a new PC. I know I have harped on about this desire in previous posts and that in a objective sense, you lot probably couldn't give a rats arse. Needless to say, it is filiing my nights with a longing for more. I've pretty much exhausted the limitations of my current hardware and what I really want is a machine that will be able to accomodate multi tasking and encoding of video, namely for my porn collection if I am to be honest. However, the question that needs to be asked is, Do I need more?

Will I be any happier if I get that LCD flat panel television or that dual core processor? Probably not! It will only buy more time...It will fill my moments with distraction. I watched a program last week on ABC2 about hackers, I'm pretty sure it was a re-run, something that I had previous seen, not that it is important whether I had seen the show before or not but what I did find striking was one of the hackers, Electron, said that the attraction with computers and hacking was the level of control he had. The relationship with the hardware was one that He could control. Where in reality both ourselves and the hacker have little control. Perhaps it says more to me than anyone else out there, because it essentially sums up my predicament to a tee.

How much control do I have in the relationships and interactions I have outside this portal of virtuality. An isolationist like myself, who would rather potter around in cyber space than partake in anything resembling intimacy. I like the perceived notion of anonymity that I have whilst interacting with hardware. I have my little voice here where I can pretty much say what I want. In reality the level of anonymity I have here is one of fallacy. I have a false sense of security whilst I communicate with this piece of hardware. I could perhaps try and hide my identity a little more. It's not like I couldn't be tracked down without some concerted effort, however I do feel safe in this playground. I am not confronted with awkward moments when I sit here typing a rant. My insecurities aren't placed before some predatory beast. I am here alone. Safe. It is my downtime, and I am becoming more inclined to withdraw these days from sociability. Maybe I am just hiding from the world. I'm tired of the world. Tired of pretending. Of playing a role. Pretending that I have a level of interest in what happens in the lives of the others. I have an interest in a select few, a very select few. I am just totally inept in social settings. Perhaps it is a skill that one acquires. I am at a loss as to why we need to be social. Meeting new people gives me the horrors. In the end I don't really feel I have anything of great value to add. I am just an ordinary guy, with extraordinary neuroses. Does the world really need another neurotic depressive. To be a part of the whole one needs to exude positive notions and clearly it is not what drives me. What I want is a sense of some objective truth, however it is merely subjective truth that is presented. What that objective truth is, is more than likely beyond the level of consciousness that resides in this world. Unless one delves into the supernatural then one will continue to search.

Work and no play

My life is set to become a perpetual cycle of getting up and going to work. I'll be working long hours for the next few months and quite possibly, for the remainder of the year. Well that's okay. I have no life to speak of anyway, so what does it really matter if I'm at work for 38 hours a week or 45? All work and no play makes for a dull TwistedTripper. And you want to know what puts the icing on the cake, I get a "field allowance" for my endeavours. Whoopee! I get a whole extra 100 dollars a week, less tax no doubt. Like I said I have no cause for complaint, I have no life!

What else is there for an old Tripper?...My fate will be not so dissimilar to the hippies of an age gone by....swallowed by the corporation. Sucked in and spat out as grumpy old men. Counting dollars to add to a nest egg that may or may not be consumed before one heads off into the deep sleep. My days of debauchery and excess are all but muted, faded by the blackness of amnesia or perhaps dementia. Although that beast of yesteryear lies in wait, hibernating and recouping its strength through winter. Waiting. Silent. Waiting for a lapse in concentration, to reawaken itself, to ignite the flames that are never really extinguishable. Alls I can do is bury it with something else, to smother its ferocity with a level of normality. Such endeavours are probably flawed to begin with, fighting fire with fire is liable to end in tears. Smothering one obsession with another, one plus one equals two? Go figure?

Anyway, I can bide my time with work. I can suffocate in the adrenaline of deadlines. All too familar, impossible deadlines, to drive the beast further into its lair. Why not...wouldn't you?