Day: March 13, 2001

  • Will Xanga survive the web technology retrenching that’s presaged by the recent steep decline in the valuations of computer technology and internet company stocks?

    Maybe I should work on a portable Xanga obituary postable in short notice.  Create a central directory of member’s email addresses for purposes of post-hosting access. Scour old postings for the “best of Xanga” to be copied, later compiled, and reposted on an another domain.


    Maybe not.


    How about: Hell no!


    How about: Stop your damn pessimistic whimpering and make the most of the current opportunities available to you.  Seize the damn day.  If there’s something that you know, write and, if possible, publish.  If you can’t publish, write anyway. 


    Damn, when Naptster dissolves, does the music die?  If all the napsters are muzzled, does life become unmelodic?  No!  No!   (Though those who worship and/or wield mythic economic forces as the soul of culture have orgasms fantasizing so.)  So if Xanga unxangs, just find another home. 


    Blog, Blog on the Range
    Where the writers and artists will play…
    Where forever is heard
    Things both bright and absurd,
    And it’s just another internet day.


    *Okay*


    … so now taking bids on my Xanga ID and password.  Bidding starts at two eProps.  Anonymity of exchange insured.

  •  My friend –Laura- (lcsaph) hasn’t published much in a while.  Weeding through my Sites I Read list, I almost removed her for her lack of activity—yikes!  But I was aware that there are technical and other circumstances hampering her time online, so I decided to get in touch personally. And yesterday we got together for some tea at a Border’s bookstore and engaged in lively, talkative conviviality.  My God she had so much to say!  I think I just sat there most of the time simply nodding and listening.  No-that’s not fair-it was a conversation, a topic-hopping romp-about with slices of Xanga tossed in but in no way dominating our parlor chat.   And in parting cheerily, we mutually suggested an indefinitely-timed future get-together again *soon*.  We truly had a great time of it!  Yet now that I reflect, I must admit a regret:  the immediacy of having a friend with whom I could share a cup of tea was irreplaceably sublime, yet what was missing—and, strangely, perfectly unavailable—was the more profound intimacy I had developed with her—mainly through email—over the internet.  Or perhaps it wasn’t the internet at all—but just letters.  Letters, yes!  That was it!  I am one who can bear his soul fully in a letter, or a blog, or a poem.  And often engender a likewise treasured, sometimes more profound, response.  But in person, am I forced to admit: life clings for me almost in forfeit to the surface and outcomes are always…by necessity otherwise?  My God, is that what I must admit about myself?  That I am a virtual Cyrano de Bergerac?

    I can only wish!


    For you see…


    Cyrano was a French soldier, satirist, and dramatist, whose life has been the basis of many romantic but unhistorical legends. The best-known of them is Edmond Rostand's verse drama Cyrano de Bergerac (1897). It describes adventures of the 17th century nobleman, famous for his large nose and swordsmanship.  Cyrano loves desperately the beautiful Roxane, but agrees to help his rival, Christian, win her heart. The historians have pointed out that Rostand's portrayal of the hero was not truthful - Cyrano was a serious writer of philosophical romances and a virile lover. Bergerac also wrote about space travel.  According to Arthur C. Clarke, he was the first writer to use the rocket for interplanetary expeditions.  He also invented in his fiction the 'dew power' - arguing that when the sun sucked up the dew in the  morning, it would be enough to carry him up with it.


    Real Cyrano de Bergerac had very little in common with the hero of the Rostand play. He was born in Paris, and educated by a priest in the village of Bergerac. Later he was sent to the Collège de Beauvais. After acquiring fame as a dueller and Bohemian, he enlisted in the army at the age of 20. He was severely wounded twice, once at a fight with Gascon Guard, and the second time at the siege of Arras in 1640. There he was hit in the neck with a sword and he never fully recovered from the wound.  In the following year he gave up his military career and started to study under the philosopher and mathematician Pierre Gassendi. Influenced by Gassendi's theories and libertine philosophy, he wrote stories of imaginary journeys to the Moon and Sun, and satirized views, which saw humanity and the Earth as the center of creation.


    Yes!  Cyrano I want to be!  A writer, a lover, a master of satire!

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