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For 'Write Club' on tribe.net
Feb. 19th, 2004 08:58 amFebruary 19, 2004 - 05:54 AM
Written: Midnight to Six
Other graveyard shift NOC monkeys - that's network operations centre, to you - they just *think* they're the only people left in the world when a night goes by with no calls. They're solipsists.
I'm an *applied* solipsist. I *know* I'm the only person left in the world when no calls come through of a night; I make it that way. I am the only thing provably in existence, because I have to unmake the world in order to take a bloody nap.
D'you understand this?
Not destruction. There're no explosions, no monsters with bloody great teeth come to tear the guts out of innocent bystanders, no floods or wars or Agent Orange. Just unmaking. Uncreation.
Now *mind*, I make it all again in the morning, so the next shift's kept honest with things to do and people to toady to and kiss the arses of and try and make happy. I just don't particularly fancy getting bothered by it myself. That's why I started studying magic.
By magic, I mean the magic smoke that makes computer chips run, and the fact that when you're in a good mood the world falls into place around you, and that if you scream your head off at someone all of a sudden they'll be startled completely out of denying you what you want. Of course they'll think you're stark staring mad after this, but it'll get you results *awfully* fast. Instant gratification. Magic. Oh yes.
So I started studying magic, and I found out that I'm the most powerful being in the omniverse (or multiverse, depending on your publishing company), *and* I'm its centre. I control the horizontal, I control the vertical. I'm free to do as I damn well please, which includes unmaking everything in order to get some fucking sleep.
I think I need some sleep. What was it, 72 hours is the marker for being clinically insane?
Copyright (c) 2004 Gina Donahue and Pop Crack Magic Entertainment
Written: Midnight to Six
Other graveyard shift NOC monkeys - that's network operations centre, to you - they just *think* they're the only people left in the world when a night goes by with no calls. They're solipsists.
I'm an *applied* solipsist. I *know* I'm the only person left in the world when no calls come through of a night; I make it that way. I am the only thing provably in existence, because I have to unmake the world in order to take a bloody nap.
D'you understand this?
Not destruction. There're no explosions, no monsters with bloody great teeth come to tear the guts out of innocent bystanders, no floods or wars or Agent Orange. Just unmaking. Uncreation.
Now *mind*, I make it all again in the morning, so the next shift's kept honest with things to do and people to toady to and kiss the arses of and try and make happy. I just don't particularly fancy getting bothered by it myself. That's why I started studying magic.
By magic, I mean the magic smoke that makes computer chips run, and the fact that when you're in a good mood the world falls into place around you, and that if you scream your head off at someone all of a sudden they'll be startled completely out of denying you what you want. Of course they'll think you're stark staring mad after this, but it'll get you results *awfully* fast. Instant gratification. Magic. Oh yes.
So I started studying magic, and I found out that I'm the most powerful being in the omniverse (or multiverse, depending on your publishing company), *and* I'm its centre. I control the horizontal, I control the vertical. I'm free to do as I damn well please, which includes unmaking everything in order to get some fucking sleep.
I think I need some sleep. What was it, 72 hours is the marker for being clinically insane?
Copyright (c) 2004 Gina Donahue and Pop Crack Magic Entertainment
