There Are Places I'll Remember All My Life . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .Sunday, February 22, 2004 -- tork
Fair Use and Parody, fuckers
I've often written for the pure pleasure of it, for the feel of those moments in my mind as in putting unripened words to a fleeting past will let it linger, if but for an instant longer - and hope in sharing a part of those with others somehow instants string together beyond the reach of faded memories and mortal coils. I struggled with picking a closing story from amongst the volumes I've composed and experiences I've played more than an innocent and anything but omniscient observer, however in picking one I'd shun all others, and so I hope you'll forgive me in I'd prefer leaving things open for the future, be it ever so scatological.
The LoS page, though eminently imitable, has never been matched in it was never simply about EQ - my stomach roils at the very thought of such an update - rather, it delved with drama, flair and panache into the larger faults and foilables of lives uncommon - that we happened to frame it with EQ exploits and antics then follows as consequence than cause. I'd like to take the time to thank not only my guild for providing the forum and Tig for the unequaled opportunity and audience, but to you the readers and most especially to the Stalkers, Wannabe's and Unoriginal Bastards - you, in so many unique ways, are what make doing updates worth the time invested.
Moreover, there's a entire subculture born in the freedom of Internet anonymity normal people will never experience, and for whatever reason, it congregates around my tell box during those late nights in EQ - ground zero for something very special apart from the glowing phosphorescence in front of me. I marvel in gestalt awe as the name filter is defeated time and again, and the irony of, at times, deeply engrossing conversations I've had with stalkers such as Ballsnurmof or the legion of Torkhasroids, Torksucks, Torkspenii, &c. is fully appreciated - but in as much as I vet my life to the masses, the stories I receive in kind, from pain and heartbreak to comedy and tears, weave the sort of tapestry I am proud to have given the gift of a screenshot key cum loom, overwhelmed by the majesty and perfidy of humans upon their condition.
I am ever conscious and grateful of this window I have been given to not only view, but scramble furtively through for a few hours each night... and I will miss it, deeply, in the times I am to be away. Despite, or perhaps because of, rumors to the contrary, yes, while I've been close recently, no, I'm not going to die. In this and in all things, I'm recalled of Harry when he discovers he's got one in a million odds - "So you're saying I have a chance!" That's good enough for me, too - I've got big dreams impervious to disappointment and unbound by the laws of physics~