Brief Encounter

I met a woman today in the local grocery store. I knew her from somewhere, and we liked seeing each other after so many years. Then she told me I look different. She asked me if I quit drinking. I told her that I don't drink as much. She smiled. I took her number with a promise to meet and discuss the arts (we're both artists, whatever that means…) I suppose to call her and invite her to coffee, to catch up, you know… but what made me different in her eyes? Was it me getting old? (Common side affects of sad eyes, backing hair, and general indifference) Was it my physical appearance after rehab? (Common side effects of feeling fresh, optimistic and inviting towards life) Was it the time we didn’t see each other that kept her drawing a simpler image of me, and then, when reality hits, it doesn’t feel the same? (Common side effects of disappointment) Well, I will call her just to pry more in this issue of being different - We'll discuss the arts, the weather, recent popular news, and the rest of the usual boredom – I will do anything to prove I am boring, no different than anybody else.

The Virtual Paranoid

The constant need of the virtual paranoid is to be seen and disappear, to be available and to shut down, to be everywhere and nowhere – simplifying the essence of existence to online and offline – pile of 0's and 1's - that are being supplied by our local electric company. The fear of being watched has been well practiced by the virtual paranoid. The Internet is after him – Google, ad makers, the government, hackers, Microsoft, and terrorists – all chase after the virtual paranoid, and they all want to bring him and his virtual space down.
But the virtual paranoid is meaningless. He will neither act nor cooperate. He is a prisoner of actual solitude within the virtual space he created. His real life logic can be summarized in online and offline too, he tends to demand his needs in a click. Can his parts be replaced?