by tomorrow dubbed a mystery and the past just blurry lines

I don't believe I've mentioned Bellefleurs yet.



Several months ago, I attended a series of salons--hosted one, even--in Babbage, and had a marvelous time. Struck up a conversation with one of the Blossoms from the House of Sakura, and she said I was more than welcome to visit.



And then time passed, as it does, as it will. Life in various worlds took precedence. I hadn't set the House of Sakura aside in my recollections, per se, as much as I'd just been overwhelmed by other fripperies.



Then Baron Wulfenbach contacted me, mentioning that the lady I'd spoken with at the Salon was still interested in talking further with me. At that point, the love life, with rather predictable regularity, had exploded into shrapnel yet again, and I was not equipped to sit and calmly discuss much of anything.



But in the last couple of weeks, things started to settle again. And I remembered the House of Sakura, so the next time I was in world, I contacted her. Which led to several conversations, and a few days ago, a delightful evening spent listening to selections from the Nutcracker suite.



It is staggeringly beautiful there. There are formal walking gardens, an En Garde area, and scattered here and there, benches and places to rest. They have a view of the ocean that nearly makes my heart weep.



I am definitely interested in attending more events there. I may even set aside blog space now and again to cover ongoing events. It could be very entertaining, and at the very least, it will give me more opportunities to wander the grounds of Bellefleurs, and admire the scenery.

The one thing visitors will need to know: Bellefleurs sits on an Adult island. There is nothing untoward in any behavior, there's nothing to send even the most prim and proper Victorian screaming from the sim...but, due to certain other activities the Blossoms of Sakura engage in, it must retain its Adult rating. But, with an open mind and an adventurous heart, I doubt this will daunt anyone looking for an evening of poetry, music or discussion.

I look forward to what happens next.

back into the boneyard badlands we run

This is, quite possibly, the best Borderlands cosplay video in existence. With the kind permission of Gavin Dunne from Miracle of Sound for the song, and the full cooperation of the Jazzhands Cosplay Group of London, it was an impressive endeavor. Humble kudos to all involved.

(Oh, and the song used in that video? It's called "Breaking Down the Borders", and it's from the Level III album, available on Bandcamp or iTunes. The entire album comes highly recommended, but that song in particular, since it was written about and for Borderlands 2 as a game.)

The best preserved mammoth in paleontology? Maybe. The question is, what are they going to do with it now?

Oh, and before I forget:

(from the media album, and the Girl Genius Kickstarter)

The Wulfenbach patch unlocked as an add-on for the Girl Genius Kickstarter. We don't have art yet, but I did have to grab this banner and link it, because with four days to go, suddenly $300,000 seems potentially doable!

Do you have old game consoles and peripherals that you no longer use, that are taking up space? Do you want more game peripherals that are actually useful for more than just taking up space? I have one potential answer for those questions. Turns out an Etsy firm called Greencüb out of Ogden, Utah, is slowly repurposing old controllers, buttons, and power switches for resale to the public. Kind of a nifty concept.

It's not enough just to have dare foods anymore, we apparently have to dare during the dare foods. As Chuck from the Bronx displays, by eating a ghost pepper whilst skydiving. Yes, seriously.

It gets better--there are occasional text pop-ups on the vid that tell us what's going on, and one of them says that he had trouble swallowing the pepper that he popped in his mouth at the beginning of the jump. So it wasn't just eating the ghost pepper (which, for the uninitiated, averages about a million Scoville heat units, per pepper, and remains the single hottest naturally-grown pepper to date), but, it was lightly macerating a ghost pepper against the sensitive mucus membranes of his mouth, then HOLDING IT THERE during most of freefall, enhancing and substantially increasing the burn. Dear gods. No wonder he does not so much land at the end of the video, but slide to an ungainly stop. Dear gods.

If you really like trees--or, more importantly, are a big fan of wood--you may need to buy this book. Published by Taschen, it's actually a reprint of a rare, fourteen-volume set that was researched and compiled in-depth of species at the turn of the last century--many of which have disappeared today. Taschen went to the heart of Romeyn Beck Hough's masterwork, reprinting only the actual photographic plates with their usual exacting faithfulness for color and detail preservation. Since a set of the original works goes upwards of $30,000--assuming a fond reader can find them at all--this is a lovely way to acquire the visual sections for later perusal, without the price tag and expense of tracking Hough's set down.

YouTube now offers a slow-motion post-processing effect for uploaded videos. I still don't know why, but it's now there. Make of that what you will.

And, also from the Laughing Squid blog, Inception meets recursion. You're...welcome?

silly thoughts of small deeds

Meet Miss Leela McAndrews.

Or rather, some of the stuph she felt needed to be rezzed out and abandoned on parcels she didn't own.

Leela was born August 10, 2010, and is in all of two groups: Divine Blood (a Bloodlines spampire group) and Euthymia VIP (which is apparently a club attached to a mall).

She has no picks, no interests, no real life...why am I even surprised at this point?

So far, in texturing the last little bit of Mikela, I've tracked down four Alpine cabins, four sex beds (all set for sale), a couch, a pair of badly-built shoes, and several vendor boxes for freebie miniskirts. They'll all be gone in an hour, or less than--I've already contacted the estate manager responsible for Mikela Isle--but what the hell happened? She decided to hold a party on unowned land? With bedhopping? On the ground floor?!?

As well as set up a minor sex-bed reselling business. Deeply, deeply tacky.

So, before this gets any more out of hand--I want to briefly talk about one of yesterday's entries.

I'll be talking with people in world--possibly later tonight, those who are still awake and active, or later this coming week (though I'm not sure about tomorrow, because we have guests coming over), but I just want to clear up a few things now.

1. I did not, nor would I, say the Wulfenbach Consulate is doing anything wrong.

2. I did say they and the JLU seem intertwined, but I didn't say that was a bad thing. Apparently I'm wrong on that, but, both groups are, and admittedly so, dedicated to helping newcomers orient to the grid and helping out where they can. These are also not bad things.

3. I never said they were part of the Emerald group.

4. I never said they were part of the Woodbury University group. (Though there do seem to be ties between Emerald and Woodbury...)

5. I never said they were part of the Wrong Hands group. (Though again, there seem to be ties between Emerald and Wrong Hands...)

Okay? Don't freak out. Everyone can step down from DefCon whatever now. I'm not against the Baron, or the Baron's people. If y'all remember, I used to be one of the Baron's people, and only left because I don't go to Steelhead, and I was building my brains out on another sim most of my spare time, when I wasn't working insanely trying to revamp my business, or actually having a social life.

And, according to the Baron, it's a leave of absence anyway, apparently. So there you go. I am NOT anti-Europan.

Honestly, I don't know how these things get started...

give me space so you can drown in this with me

Paradise lost...and regained. It's really easy to get lost in SL; I know, I've done it. But generally speaking, she's right; you can't lose yourself in something unless you're already lost to begin with.

Have a fetish for eighties music? Try it with a side of eighties cartoons.

TF2 the MMO? Gad, I hope not, but the pics are fun.

Back to SL matters. There's something else a bit unnerving about Sin-Labs.

Because I hadn't found the hunt prize yet, when I rezzed into world, I was back in Sin-Labs. This? Was 'overheard' on the main chat:

[08:44 PM] S-L Doll Stand: Hello Emilly Orr, welcome to Sin-Labs
Our dolls are here to assist (when not restrained)

Great....I wandered for a bit, not finding anything in the warren of internal stores, so returned to the main warp hub and stood in thought.

[08:47 PM] IM: you think: The encaser looks interesting, maybe you should try it
[08:48 PM] IM: you think: The bikegirls look great, maybe you should try them out
[08:49 PM] IM: you think: An hour on a stand, just isn't enough
[08:50 PM] IM: you think: Statues are not people, they're just decoration
[08:51 PM] IM: you think: An hour on a stand, just isn't enough
[08:52 PM] IM: you think: That can't have been a muffled sound from that statue, can it?
[08:53 PM] IM: you think: Maybe you should have a drink, a special drink
[08:54 PM] IM: you think: Tight is good, shiny is good
[08:55 PM] IM: you think: This is a good place to stay

At 8:55 pm, I found the box, and got the hell out. Sin-Labs is seriously unnerving on a lot of levels.

TigroSpottyStripes Katsu wonders "why do you guys insist on not accepting input from users before deciding to make important changes permanent?"

A damned good question, that.

I want to do a bit more Emerald dissection.

I started off here, and I tried to follow the logic out.

2006: The first rumors of Copybot hit an already embattled grid. Stunned by several recent economic downturns, the big hysteria became--ANYONE could copy ANYTHING on SL and NO ONE CAN STOP THEM! Whether this was true or not, it caused a grid-wide spasm of doubt and hysteria that in some cases, persists to this day.

2007: Linden Labs releases the source code so people can finally play openly (as opposed to hacking the code out) with the source coding. This does not assuage fears that an army of Copybot clients are going to march over the grid and lift everything in sight. It does, however, lead to some innovative browsers, including Nicholaz, CoolSL (developed in cooperation with CSI:SL), Kirsten's, and the then-named Greenlife. Generally, residents are more confused by the process, than supportive or deriding.

2009: Restrained Life hits the grid. Many people are creeped out by it. Many more immediately adopt it. The age of point-and-click domination arrives.

(July 2009: It's totally non-relevant, but I admit to being amused as hell at the whole Sion chicken drama--it's just insane, the lengths to which people went to justify chicken addiction. But it's not germane to much, save Neva had this freakish theory about the Woodbury group developing Emerald on the one hand and mass-slaying her chickens on the other. We move on.)

October 2009: Greenlife, having renamed itself Emerald some time back--so as not to conflict with the new 'no touchy!' policy of Second Life branding--comes out with breast physics. Now, breast physics are nothing new--they're old hat in Japanese anime games, there's breast physics in Runes of Magic (wait until the close-up, about 0:52, you'll see what I mean), even Silent Hill 5 threw some physics on their nurses (fast forward to 0:49, or 0:52 if you're curious)...but all of a sudden, Second Life had jiggle. People nearly mass-converted to Emerald just to check it out. Certain womens' groups lost their minds over the concept. Most of the rest of us were thinking, what's the big deal? So someone else sees breast movement, how is this a tragedy? But the controversy raged for months.

2009-present: Prokovy Neva rants about the Emerald developers (Actually, Neva rants more than that, because it's been, like, every other post for over a year, now.) Honestly, I can't even address this, because she's completely monochromatic--you're either a loyal friend or you're a lying Communist spying on her, there's no in-between. (Trust me; I know monochromatic thinking, I do a fair bit of it myself, I won't lie--but I have shades, damn it. Neva? It's all or nothing, always, and once she fastens on a concept she does not let go, even in the face of further evidence. Once you're evil--you're evil, according to her.)

February 2010: Linden Labs releases two things at once: Viewer 2, and a new 'targeted' ad campaign for new users. Both cause an inordinate amount of frustration, stress and outrage on the part of SL's resident population.

The Viewer 2 headache is easy to figure out: the Labs talked to focus groups, merchants, citizens specifically invited to 'brown-bag' in-person events, pored over the JIRA and held development workshops at the Labs...and then did nothing on those lists. Instead, they turned out a bloated, feature-laden mess that overly inflated inventory, shuffled everything around to new places with no inherent logic, substantially changed the basic structure of chat, inventory, and in-world notifications, and--as if that weren't enough--made it impossible in the new viewer to build, change profiles, or easily change music/media streams out of the box. (All that came later.)

The marketing headache was something else entirely--the new promos, pulled snappily together by Ill Clan, featured a brightly-colored world just packed with young, urban, nearly exclusively human professionals, moving streamlessly through shopping (in which clothes changing becomes something as magical as a Sailor Moon transformation), greeting a new project head at the office (implying that walking up to another avatar, setting down a briefcase, and shaking the other avatar's hand are all seamlessly integrated animations in SL), and enjoying romantic vacations (nearly entirely featuring two oppositely-gendered humans on beachfronts alone). And a great deal of it was presented as being voice chat, not text chat.

This was a world without non-humans; without furs; without constructs, robots, Tinies, mermaids; without darker subcultures, vampires, Goreans or roleplayers of any stripe; without non-beach territories; without those who choose not to, or cannot voice; and almost entirely populated by straight white people. People--from non-white to non-human people--were understandably upset.

The world that Ill Clan presented--which, many of us understood viscerally was the world the Labs wanted to own--was a world where people used Second Life to work; where all disposable income was then spent back in the world; where it was just as much fun if not more fun to spend spare time in, after, of course, working in Second Life in the first place. Talk about giving a large segment of your userbase the cold shoulder; this went right over that edge into active snarling insult, in a pretty video package.

Between the new ad campaign and the new viewer, people again nearly mass-converted to using Emerald. For most of us, no matter which browser we were using, if we were in a browser that identified other browsers, for several months we've seen three out of every five people in world at all using Emerald. It's been a nearly unbroken sea of green out there, in most areas of the grid.

Here's where things get odd for me, though. From 2006 to Aprille 2010 is pretty much a straight line; my experiences match more or less the blog entry's, I can line things up in my head. Then...this:

April 2010: Apparently the Wrong Hands group engineer a takedown of the Justice League Unlimited griefer-prevention group, a group largely staffed and supported by the Wulfenbach Consulate. (**This has proven not to be true; see note at bottom.) They do this even though the Wrong Hands group is largely a sub-grouping of Woodbury University. So...the bad guys...infiltrated the good guys...proving they were the bad guys...but because the Lindens were helping the JLU, the Woodburys--along with their sims--got banned en masse?

That seems overly simplistic. Plus, it's just weird--since when were griefers ever interested in doing the right thing? That's kind of the definition of griefer--some overly bored idiot who does stupid things because he or she--though generally he--thinks it's funny.

I don't share their sense of humor. I find myself in the midst of griefers, I generally choose not to interact, bounce if I have the power, or leave if I don't have other options. Arguing with them generally serves no purpose but to upset me, and there's no point in that.

Plus, the whole thing just gets weirder from here. Like this video, which supposedly is "proof" somehow of the Wrong Hands group "interrogating" Fractured Crystal, the main programmer behind Emerald, or at least Modular Systems--save for, first, unless I'm wrong on who's speaking to whom (the video is terrifyingly fuzzy), that's Fractured saying he doesn't know a single thing about coding or programming, he 'leaves that to other people'. Huh?

And that brings us to the second point, which is LordGregGreg Beck being on the ground at that meeting, so--was/is Beck a member of the Wrong Hands group? Which means he's in the bad guy section too, right? Save he left Emerald because of Emerald's shady data mining practices, so again we have a hacker who's having an ethics crisis.

That just makes my head hurt. I'm not saying hackers don't have ethics; I am saying generally, if they have ethics, they don't stay involved with questionable groups.

But maybe I'm wrong; maybe where SL is concerned, they do.

April 15, 2010: The news on Emerald's data mining finally surfaces for most of the grid. Those of us paying attention--id est, watching the forums, staying involved, reading blog and news posts--had been putting two and two together and getting five for some time. But suddenly, the Alphaville Herald broke the story and it was the Most Terrifying Thing EVER for a lot of people. At least half of all SL groups, practically, had at least one person who would go off on the topic nigh-hourly, trying to "warn everyone". Yeah. We're warned, already. Enough.

April 16, 2010: Hazim Gazov, apparently part and parcel of the Woodbury Group, contacted Joe Linden about possible violations on the part of Emerald. The ball starts rolling downhill.

August 22, 2010: Bloggers--some of them well known, and not a few actual news services--start to ask pointed questions about the implosion of Emerald from Aprille to August, wondering what on earth's going on. It's a good question. It's not one that's been adequately answered.

August 24, 2010: Nelson Jenkins releases this to the Alphaville Herald. I have several questions on this, and likely zero answers forthcoming, ever, but here goes:

1. Collection of IP addresses. I'm fairly sure this happened, but do we actually have any real information that actual SL avatars-to-RL-names correlation has been done? All I've heard are that "some" main accounts, leading to identification of "some" alts, have been released to the public; but does anyone know any more than that?

2. The 'third party' uncovering the data mining. Was this Hazim Gazov? And again, if he's with the Woodbury twinks, why is he upset over Emerald data-mining? It's just as unethical to scam personal data out of people as it is to crash their sim repeatedly, in my book. Sure, the second example is "just a sim", but think about it--someone spends several days out of a month deliberately crashing the sim you pay tier on, those are days of rent you're still expected to pay, when you've been deprived of actual performance hours. I know this game; I lived it in Rivula in 2007 and 2008. Gods know what any of us did to piss people off, but Rivula was constantly being attacked, griefed, crashed out, lagged to death...Some of it was honest server overstress, but in most cases, it was self-replicating griefing objects or grey goo.

3. The accusations against Fractured Crystal and Phox ModularSystems--how valid are they?

4. Can the Quicktime exploit that Gemini/CDS systems use to operate through be closed?

5. Did Arabella Steadham actually leave the Emerald development team? Did she come back? Or was it all just fluff and thunder distraction from the real problems at the time?

6. Whether it was a 'practical joke' gone wrong (as Arabella says) or an actual DDoS attack on another site, the facts are it happened, and thousands of Emerald users are now passive participants in a criminal activity. It's one thing playing the bad guy on their own; it's an entirely separate issue to con thousands of residents of Second Life into helping them pull off the bad act. A simple 'gosh, oops' isn't the apology these people are looking for. What are the developers of Emerald willing to do now to gain back the trust of everyone whose ethics were violated during that 'joke' session?

7. Is it really only 20% of users who've chosen Emerald to access the grid? I think that number's much higher.

8. Doesn't Arabella realize that deleting 'negative' comments on the blog entries proposing transparency in future Emerald actions are just playing right into the lack of trust the public has for Emerald right now? If we can't even trust her to post what she gets, and answer it honestly, how are we supposed to trust her, and the entire Emerald team, with our passwords, our IP addresses, and our browsing histories again?

9. Is Arabella really that clueless, or that smug, to think that this should be something swept under the carpet because it's not a "life and death" situation?

10. Can someone confirm for me--because I heard the same thing--on Emerald's removal from the TPV directory Linden Labs maintains before the change from Fractured to Arabella took place? If that's true, then the entire story Arabella's been pimping on the removal being solely an issue of the company changing CEOs is false, and misleading.

Now, to tie all this wandering speculation up: I'm not trying to extend drama. And I've had my fifteen minutes of fame, back in 2007; I don't need more. I just want to know how it all ties together, is the thing.

Emerald; Modular Systems; Woodbury University; Justice League Unlimited; Linden Labs; the Wulfenbach Consulate. And yes, I know some of the principals involved, and likely I will be asking, but it's just so strange to me, you know? It's like an interlocking set of rotating rings, and some of the rings are toxic, and others have my friends on them, and they're all interwoven.

We need a magician to take them apart. Better yet, we need someone to sit down and actually explain things, as simply as possible. What is really going on here?

(**That note. While there are Wulfenbach Consulate members in JLU, the JLU existed long before the Europan arrival on the grid. [This I did not know previously.] Also, the Wrong Hands group didn't take down the JLU; they sent in a covert operative who was granted access to a group-only database, who then snapped pics and threw it up somewhere else--one suspects one of the Woodbury sites. The JLU then closed ranks, reinforced their security, and went on with their lives. So much for that.)

she will never learn your tranquility, she will never learn to let things slide off her

Zombie haiku!

Though some of the best ones are found in the comments. Among my favorites:

From Micheal0559:

Nothing hurts me now
Normally the screwdriver
wouldn't have gone there

You are so lucky
I cannot remember
How to use doorknobs

From IrmaCerrutti:

To express oneself
In seventeen syllables
Is very diffic.

From goverlord:

Recent fallen dead
Should not climb escalators
Zombies are clumsy

From Garth432 (seriously, what IS it with people with numbers in their names??) comes a triptych:

Endless Zombie hoard
groping hands and soulless eyes
We've run out of shells

Hiding in alley
Flare gun goes off by mistake
Oh no they see us

Blaghurauhuwaugh
Hurughwhua Grawwaghurugh
Blam Blam Blam Blam Dead

From technologysucks:

I stagger as they run
But beating hearts grow tired
I will never stop

And finally, from notanotherwizkid:

my dentist is dead
he was proud when I ate him
with my strong white teeth

Much, much fun.

In the meantime, in preparation for Thursday night hijinks, there is now a little crystal orb one can touch anytime at der Hut des Jaeger to find out Thursday's poetry theme:

(That's Mr. Liam Bean to the left in the top hat; proprietress Frau Annechen Lowey behind the bar; Mr. Zaltman Romanas in the dark suit, and new lady Jager Rozas Gartner to the right in the big picture, and Mad Lab Ale--green, on the left; Wolf Creek Feteasca Neagra in the middle; and WCW's Dominacynthe Absinthe in the darker green bottle to the right below the crystal orb in the small version.)

It is located behind the bar, on the upper shelf, right-hand side. (When standing in front of the bar.) Just touch it, or mouse over it, even, and you'll find out what next week's topic will be. Lovely little invention.

Finally, a brief mention of a new find: the Painted Lily. Womens' and mens' medieval fashions, plus flower wreathes, jewelry, and some period-appropriate hair. And this little gem in five colors:

It's L$500, and I wouldn't have purchased it before today, had I not sold that lovely little secondary bit of Morgaine. This is my celebratory impulse buy, and I will not lie to you, I used to have outfits very, very close to this RL (and am determined to have again!), only they were green and brown.

The Persian coat comes with jacket, pants, sculpted prim pants bits, flexible coat 'skirt' with flexible sash, flexible sleeves, turban with flexible ends, a face mask (to keep out those desert winds), and sculpted traditional shoes. A total of thirteen items.

I may even break my struggling-to-save-Lindens habits, and buy at least the purple, if not the purple and the cream. They really are amazingly well done, and they're the only styles like this I've found in recent travels.

And the face mask doesn't kill my whiskers! Yay!

It comes in blue, brown, buff, purple, and the grey I showed off, which Miss Meriman actually terms 'black'. They're very, very traditional in appearance, perfect for medieval and desert-land roleplay sims. Also jaunting about anywhere, I would assume...Don't be surprised if those of you who see me, see me around in this over the next week.

in this world of over-rated pleasures, of under-rated treasures

How do you pick your MMO?

Relive Caledon's humble beginnings. And yes, even back then, there was cake.

Two days from now, there will be a party!



Actually, two--to support the fight against breast cancer, and to celebrate the second-year anniversary of der Hut des Jaegers in Winterfell Absinthe!

The first will be held from noon to two pm SLT in Port Absinthe, in Winterfell, and the second will be held from four to six pm SLT, on Sunday, for those who couldn't make it on the 24th.

From Frau Lowey's notecard:

Yes, it has been that long! Come celebrate the Consulate office with a bar, or the Jagerkin bar that has office stationary!

Also the release party for the 2010 Shirtless Against Breast Cancer Calendars - Ladies, Gentlemen, Fur & Fin, and Jaegerkin! Benefiting breastcancer.org, helping breast cancer patients and their families.

Music will be provided by Radio Riel, and yes, I know, Miss Fuschia just announced a party on the same day (**actually, it's Friday, not Saturday, oops!**), but do try to make it if you can. We are gently impressing on Miss Reghan Straaf to make a pink hat for sale on both days--so there might even be toplessness at the event! (Buy the hat, lose your top--if you wish--and support the fight against breast cancer at the same time!)

Shocking!

We'll be happy to see you. Expect songs of mad science and mad creations, Sparks, evil geniuses, Tiny mad things, genteel ladies, Jagerkin of all persuasions, and anything and everything I've failed to list!

Ales, and dancing, and music, and odd glowing things and good fellowship and helping the fight against cancer--what more do you want? We'll see you there!

where the raindrops as they're falling tell a story

"Yes, I have cunningly undertaken this whole project in such a way as to make it absolutely impossible for me to make any money out of it. I am quite the commercial genius, thank you."

*snerks* But the entire project is worth reading over.

Ari Blackthorne makes a telling comment late in the strand at the Linden blog on bots and camping. He was responding to yet another plaintive cry of merchant business loss:

With cordial respect I will say to you and all others who make similar claims are *misguided*.

+You "invested" nothing.+
What you did do is "pay to play".

You paid for +entertainment+. You did not make an investment. Investing would mean you hold a stake in Linden Lab itself, not a virtual parcel in a digital environment. It is not "real estate".

Please understand, I mean this in the most respectful way to you and all others who repeat your proclamation in some form or another and have no intention of being inflammatory or abrasive in my comments. You are correct, it is not your fault. However, your misunderstanding or misinterpretation of what you were doing is at the root of your dismay: +you were paying for entertainment.+ For "hosting". For a privilege, not a right. You got everything you paid for and nothing less.

I have done all this, too. Since my first coming into SL I have owned... (counts fingers and contemplates) ... 5 private regions (sims) - not all at once of course. But I have owned them. I have done what you are doing now - the land sales/rentals. I have created a role play sim (still going strong fortunately) and so on and so on.

However, I clearly understand +my "place"+ in it. That being that I am paying Linden Lab to give me specific and complete control of part of their system. That's it. Nothing more. I do not now nor ever expect a "return" on my "investment" because not only is it not promised, Linden Lab doesn't even so much as +*imply* such a thing is possible+. In other words, what I do and how I do it using the tools and services available I do on my own at my own behest and risk, knowing full well anything can change for the better or worse at the drop of a hat.

So, again with respect, I take the words of anyone who proclaims they have spent money and are thus "losing" money with a serious grain of salt and tongue-in-cheek. Second Life is not billed as any kind of money-making enterprise or investment venue. If you spend money on a movie ticket at the cinema, do you realistically expect to get any kind of return on that money, save for the screening itself?

In my mind, anyone who complains that they spent money and are not getting what they have paid for need a serious realignment of what Second Life really is: a virtual world for +entertainment purposes+. Anything and everything above and beyond that is simply a "fluke" of the system that you and I and all others are +exploiting+.

He's not wrong.

Another Poetry Slam comes 'round again, this one dealing with freedom, and Empire.

[17:33] Gwynna Cleanslate: Let me explain that the theme of the holiday reminds me too much of summer .. my summers.
[17:34] Gwynna Cleanslate: And this is a [poem] that speaks to my own [independence] of a sort ...

And she began to read.

Elsinboro: The Delaware, 1967

Uncle Earl rolled in the crab traps at ebb tide
Hauling on ropes yellow and green, dripping seawed and tiny mussels
His muscles tattooed:
a Navy anchor and a heart, left and right
Sleep-eyed, shot red with the magic potion from his secret flask in the shed,
He thrust his scarred hand into the cage,
Grinned, and grabbed the largest of the blue-and-white monsters
Waved it in our face and laughed as we shrieked,
Running in the tide pools that stretchd a half-mile to thesand bar.
"Dinner's coming,"he shouted after us. "Dinner's coming togetcha!"

I stood on the sand bar,
Great-aunt Elsie's apron filled with clamshells and green glass,
Gazing at twinkling lights, red and green, across brown water,
Brackish and rainbowed with engine oil from outboards.
Barges, tankers, tugboats, scows, and once a luxury liner
Carrying the world along the horizon,
Carrying my dreams adrift.
Waves washed over the sandbar,
And from there a race against tide along the rippled mud
Inches ahead of the lapping water coming to get me,
Climbing the bulwark just in time
"Not It," I told the river,
And laughed when my sister and Cousin Bob got caught.

I sat beside the creosote patch on the bulwark,
My oversized feet kicking against the licking waters of high tide,
Dangling a drumstick on a string, waiting for the tug.
I brought up seven crabs at once.
Billy and David boasted only five.
But they got me, all right,
Telling ghost stories until bedtime:
Jersey Devil, Woodstown's gravestones, the Ghost of Salem's Oak, and the Pirate's Lady
Wafted in the incense of cattails and toasted marshmallows.
Caught, I believed them, every one,
Shivering in terror of what would come
As I gazed out the dormer window,
The only one awake among a dozen brackish cousins around me
Asleep on the padded attic floor,
The only one alive to see
The red and green lights across black water,
And the Pirate's Lady coming to get me--
OooooooOOOoooooooEEEEEeeeee....
Beckoning,
"Come. Drift. Drown."
And I did.



(der Hut des Jaegers being filled with temporary libraries. Also, the author of that poem? Miss Cleanslate.)

[17:59] Birdsan Weezles: Hy took a different look at de theme, too -- Vhen hyu've been a soldier for a few centuriez, freedom und independenze zumtimez schtartz to look like a long line of battlez und change. Rudyard Kipling zaid it vell in vot iz called "Puck'z Song".
[18:00] Annechen Lowey: ah.

(I am altering it slightly from the Jaeger; all apologies, this is not meant as a slight.)

See you the ferny ride that steals
Into the oak-woods far?
O that was whence they hewed the keels
That rolled to Trafalgar.

And mark you where the ivy clings
To Bayham's mouldering walls?
O there we cast the stout railings
That stand around St. Paul's.

See you the dimpled track that runs
All hollow through the wheat?
O that was where they hauled the guns
That smote King Philip's fleet.

(Out of the Weald, the secret Weald,
Men sent in ancient years,
The horse-shoes red at Flodden Field,
The arrows at Poitiers!)

See you our little mill that clacks,
So busy by the brook?
She has ground her corn and paid her
Ever since Domesday Book.

See you our stilly woods of oak,
And the dread ditch beside?
O that was where the Saxons broke
On the day that Harold died.

See you the windy levels spread
About the gates of Rye?
O that was where the Northmen fled,
When Alfred's ships came by.

See you our pastures wide and lone,
Where the red oxen browse?
O there was a City thronged and known,
Ere London boasted a house.

And see you after rain, the trace
Of mound and ditch and wall?
O that was a Legion's camping-place,
When Caesar sailed from Gaul.

And see you marks that show and fade,
Like shadows on the Downs?
O they are the lines the Flint Men made,
To guard their wondrous towns.

Trackway and Camp and City lost,
Salt Marsh where now is corn--
Old Wars, old Peace, old Arts that cease,
And so was England born!

She is not any common Earth,
Water or wood or air,
But Merlin's Isle of Gramarye,
Where you and I will fare!



(Miss Gwynna Cleanslate and Sgt. Birdsan Weezles being pelted with books.)

[18:07] Emilly Orr stands, in the gap between Kipling and haiku.
[18:07] Emilly Orr: I have a short one...
[18:07] Sheryl Skytower: *chuckles*
[18:07] Birdsan Weezles: Hooo!
[18:07] Birdsan Weezles: Eazt meetz Vezt,.
[18:07] Annechen Lowey: Very good!

I read "Childrens' Rhymes", by Langston Hughes.

By what sends
the white kids
I ain't sent:
I know I can't
be President.
What don't bug
them white kids
sure bugs me:
We know everybody
ain't free.

Lies written down
for white folks
ain't for us a-tall:
Liberty And Justice--
Huh!--For All?



(Your humble narrator being thrown against Miss Nacht and Miss Slade by books, chickens and feral haggis.)

[18:12] Emilin Nakamori: Actually, I now have 2 haiku; a rather bitter one occurred to me, and I wrote it earlier in the conversing.
[18:12] Emilin Nakamori: Would you like both, or shall I leave the bitter one out?
[18:12] KlausWulfenbach Outlander: Hmm.
[18:12] KlausWulfenbach Outlander: Nein, let us have the contrast.
[18:12] Birdsan Weezles: De courze of freedom iz zumtimez better.

She read her haiku, as she's been accustomed to doing of a Thursday in Winterfell.

Picnics and parades
All serve to help us forget
Governmental rape.

Miss Nakamori has been our poet-in-residence for some time. She has a flair for haiku.



(Aim and fire.)

A warm summer night,
Flowers of fire overhead,
The sounds of insects...

[18:15] Emilin Nakamori: The Japanese word for fireworks is "hanabi", which can be translated as "fire flowers".

Interesting, I didn't know. And it does make the poem very meaningful.

[18:15] Elegia Underwood smiles.
[18:15] Elegia Underwood: A lovely contrast.

We paused for appreciation, and to clean up feathers, wandering mimmoths, and bits of pastry, and went on with the evening.

[18:17] Emilly Orr: But do say on, Miss Nacht.
[18:18] Stereo Nacht: Thank you. So here comes:

From the heights of power
I am the mistress of them all
I free them from their condition
There is no depths they can't dive on
No heights too high they risk a fall

From humble peasants they were born
They do not have to die the same
And this is where I draw my fame:
Whatever I dream they become

A set of wings to reach the skies
Scales and gills for deep abysses
Great muscles: no feats end misses
With fur: winter never bring cries

Yet on my balcony I stand
Surrounded by those I have freed
To their request they ask I cede
"Freedom of choice": futile demand!

For I am mistress of them all
And never to my knees will fall!



(Miss Nacht is buried in books.)

About this time a wanderer joined us, one miss Fanshaw Auster. Interesting last name, and first name, though I didn't thank her for not spelling it "Featherstone-Haugh". That might have been an excess of fannish reference. She was...understandably confused:

[18:21] Tyrian Slade applauds
[18:21] Tyrian Slade: I liked that.
[18:21] Fanshaw Auster: what's that?
[18:21] Stereo Nacht: Thank you miss Slade!
[18:21] Fanshaw Auster: that?
[18:21] Annechen Lowey: `*.¸.*´ APPLAUSE `*.¸.*´APPLAUSE `*.¸.*´
[18:21] Emilin Nakamori applauds :)
[18:21] Emilly Orr applauds!
[18:21] Birdsan Weezles: Local tredition, Fanshaw.
[18:22] Fanshaw Auster: ok, were those some sort of books?
[18:22] Emilly Orr: A fleet of fast-flying fulminations on child-rearing, I do believe.
[18:22] KlausWulfenbach Outlander: Appreciation is shown with ammunition.
[18:22] Fanshaw Auster: i see
[18:22] Birdsan Weezles: Of all zortz.
[18:22] Emilly Orr: It's not mandatory, but it is fun.
[18:22] Fanshaw Auster: so you all come here often?
[18:22] Birdsan Weezles: Veekly.
[18:22] Fanshaw Auster: yeah it is
[18:22] Emilly Orr: Every Thursday evening we can.
[18:23] Fanshaw Auster: ok
[18:23] Elegia Underwood: Jaegers, Miss Fanshaw, all these brilliantly coloured & rather savage looking folk, tend to celebrate explosively.folk
[18:23] Elegia Underwood: [without the following 'folk' which has to be a linden artifact since I'm sure I did not type the word again. :D ]

So we may well see Miss Auster of a Thursday, now and again, with poems of her own. Always good to bring in converts to the cause.

[18:24] Sheryl Skytower: *puts up paw*
[18:24] Sheryl Skytower: May I offer a haiku, fresh from my claws?
[18:24] Annechen Lowey: Ah, Miss Skytower!
[18:24] KlausWulfenbach Outlander: Splendid.
[18:24] Annechen Lowey: Yes, please!
[18:24] Stereo Nacht: Of course!
[18:24] Sheryl Skytower: *clears voice*
[18:24] Birdsan Weezles: Pleaze do!

I admit, I'm always momentarily breathless when someone says, they've just then written something. Just sitting in the bar and suddenly--poof!--creation! I think out of everything else, that's the thing I most adore about Thursday nights in Absinthe.

Tea leaves floating free
Caught in the rushing current
Bitter but so strong...

We applauded and launched more fanciful and fragmentary ammunition. Then Miss Nakamori spoke again:

[18:24] Emilin Nakamori: I have another bitter one. I'm sorry; I seem to be in that sort of mood tonight :(

Haiku are short.
Sounds, like punctuation,
Giving meaning to tumult.

While we were reflecting on the hidden depth of emotion that presented, Miss Auster had more questions:

[18:26] Fanshaw Auster: so is this some sort of [german] area?
[18:27] KlausWulfenbach Outlander: Nein, several of us are Transylvanian.
[18:27] Annechen Lowey: this is Port Absinthe, a dark Victorian sim.

We expanded, a bit, on backgrounds, in between talk of hats.

[18:27] Annechen Lowey: Most of us hail from Europa, through the dimentional portal.
[18:27] Emilin Nakamori: I am of indeterminate origins, but all agree I am Mad.
[18:27] Fanshaw Auster: ok
[18:27] KlausWulfenbach Outlander: A few of the damen are from Caledon.
[18:27] Tyrian Slade: I'm from Caledon. Kind of.

[18:27] Emilly Orr: Caledon and parts elsewhere.

[18:28] Elegia Underwood: I am from Steelhead.
[18:28] Emilly Orr: We represent a great many ports of call.

[18:28] Annechen Lowey: Fairly international.

[18:28] Sheryl Skytower: actually, you can see the flags overhead... *points up*

Talk settled then, time was growing short--after all, there was a country to save, in the clutches of mad Dr. Obolensky--so quick poems were sought.

[18:30] Birdsan Weezles: Az Hy zaid, Hy got vun -- or rather, de Anima vantz to declaim vun.

[18:30] Emilin Nakamori: I have the remaining bitter haiku, and Kipling's "My Rival", if you want it ;)

Miss Nakamori was given the floor.

The green lady stands,
Symbol of dreams betrayed by
Small men of power.

Deep, and resonant, and Miss Underwood spoke in the moment of silence.

[18:34] Elegia Underwood: This one is by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, sadly more famous for being the owner of City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco than for his marvelous poetry. But in his day, he was one of the poets of protest, the Beat Poets.

He was, as some say, the father of Beat Poetry, though this is contested. At any rate, his is poetry worthy of respect, and it had been years and years since I'd heard this one. I listened avidly.

I Am Waiting

I am waiting for my case to come up
and I am waiting
for a rebirth of wonder
and I am waiting
for someone to really discover America
and wail
and I am waiting
for the discovery
of a new symbolic western frontier
and I am waiting
for the American Eagle
to really spread its wings
and straighten up and fly right
and I am waiting
for the Age of Anxiety
to drop dead
and I am waiting
for the war to be fought
which will make the world safe
for anarchy
and I am waiting
for the final withering away
of all governments
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Second Coming
and I am waiting
for a religious revival
to sweep through the state of Arizona
and I am waiting
for the Grapes of Wrath to be stored
and I am waiting
for them to prove
that God is really American
and I am waiting
to see God on television
piped’ onto church altars
if only they can find
the right channel
to tune in on
and I am waiting
for the Last Supper to be served again
with a strange new appetizer
and I am perpetually awaiting
a rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for my number to be called
and I am waiting
for the Salvation Army to take over
and I am waiting
for the meek to be blessed
and inherit the earth
without taxes and I am waiting
for forests and animals
to reclaim the earth as theirs
and I am waiting
for a way to be devised
to destroy all nationalisms
without killing anybody
and I am waiting
for linnets and planets to fall like rain
and I am waiting for lovers and weepers
to lie down together again
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the Great Divide to ‘be crossed
and I am anxiously waiting
for the secret of eternal life to be discovered
by an obscure general practitioner
and I am waiting
for the storms of life
to be over
and I am waiting
to set sail for happiness
and I am waiting
for a reconstructed Mayflower
to reach America
with its picture story and tv rights
sold in advance to the natives
and I am waiting
for the lost music to sound again
in the Lost Continent
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting for the day
that maketh all things clear
and I am awaiting retribution
for what America did
to Tom Sawyer
and I am waiting
for the American Boy
to take off Beauty’s clothes
and get on top of her
and I am waiting
for Alice in Wonderland
to retransmit to me
her total dream of innocence
and I am waiting
for Childe Roland to come
to the final darkest tower
and I am waiting
for Aphrodite
to grow live arms
at a final disarmament conference
in a new rebirth of wonder

I am waiting
to get some intimations
of immortality
by recollecting my early childhood
and I am waiting
for the green mornings to come again
youth’s dumb green fields come back again
and I am waiting
for some strains of unpremeditated art
to shake my typewriter
and I am waiting to write
the great indelible poem
and I am waiting
for the last long careless rapture
and I am perpetually waiting
for the fleeing lovers on the Grecian Urn
to catch each other up at last
and embrace
and I am waiting
perpetually and forever
a renaissance of wonder



(Miss Underwood looking confident that the onslaught of incoming tomes would not budge her. She was right.)

It wasn't short, but time had been extended by a bit, getting things ready, so Sgt. Weezles took on another work:

[18:50] Birdsan Weezles: Nathaniel Benson, and it's called "Canada".

I have seen her in the quiet of the evening in the fields,
I have sensed her in the dusk-time that the star-decked prairie yields.
She has poised on purple mountains when my lonely step drew near,
And the North's green fires at midnight were her altar-lights austere.

Her voice is in the thunder of the raptured Falls of Bow,
In the memory of Daulac dying greatly long ago.
Her song is in the music of awakened April rills,
She whose spirit walked with Lampman on his silent wooded hills.

In the ancient lonely churchyards of the pioneers asleep.
She broods in voiceless twilight where eternal memories creep.
Where the dark heroic headlands stand the wintry ocean's roar,
She sits thinking of the seamen who will come to port no more.

On the red earth of the vinelands, through the orchards in the spring
She walks and feels in heart and hand her beauty's blossoming, --
And again she wanders weeping beneath an alien sky
Where her many sons are sleeping and her young lost legions lie.

She is one with all our laughter, with our wonder and our pain.
Living everywhere truimphant, in the heart and soul and brain,
She our mother, we who bore her, she the daughter yet to be
Who walks these mortal roads of death to immortality.

Indivisible and lovely, she the maiden of our thought,
Is an empress robed in beauty from our deepest dreaming wrought,
She whose centuries are storied, whose young banners far outborne
Are the heralds of a splendour in the ages yet unborn.



(Sgt. Weezles pushing aside books and mimmoths.)

[18:54] Tyrian Slade: Oh, what the heck. If no one else wants to go, I have a short one.
[18:54] KlausWulfenbach Outlander: Go.

I want to see the universe someday.
Shining blue and white
Shimmering like black velvet
Adorned with pearls
Perhaps I’ll touch the galaxies
Fragile in the aether
Trembling like spiderwebs
Laden with dew
And then I’ll know the smell of stars
Those flowers made of light
lossoming for almost ever
Changing their colors
I want to see the universe someday
In all its glory-splendor
For all its mystery and wonder
Beacons to me



(The tide of books ebbing around Miss Slade. This, and her other, I believe, were also originals.)

Then, the crowd parted, most for diverse locations around Babbage, to cheer on the return of the Clockwinder; me, to home and off the grid. I faded into limbo with sweet remembered poetry ringing in my ears, and if there is a better way to fade from the dream than that, I do not know it.

(The Poetry Slams are held each week, on Thursdays from five to seven pm, SLT. Please make sure all your armament is set to no-push, and ammunition fired is temp-rez. Armament is not required; neither is reading. You can come unarmed and just listen.

(Just come. Some weeks somber, some weeks amusing, there's not another poetry night like it on the grid.)

you're a tombstone in the mud, playing Twister in a bubble again

Some people have special problems. This is a sadly true fact of Em-behind-the-screen: I don't own a cell phone. I don't have a laptop. I have a very good music/video player, which pretty much reflects my priorities, in a sense: aging desktop computer, more notebooks than tech toys on the desk, but close to state-of-the-art .mp3 devices (I say devices; I have one really good one that plays music, plays movies, plays videos, stores pictures and can play audio books as well as be used as a book reader...and one pretty good one that's not got the nifty video screen, but is roughly the size of a lipgloss case, so I can just tuck it in some handy storage space--pants, shirt, cleavage...some days I'm not picky...and go out and about at will).

But it honestly never occurred to me that people might want to update their blogs from mobile devices. Put me to wondering which of the big journal sites actually support that capability. Because obviously with Wordpress, it's a fight, and it sounds like with Blogger, it's nonexistent, too.

Sling Trebuchet puts it wonderfully in a comment on the bots and camping blog entry:

Good Web search engines would not give such blind weight to keyword spamming. In fact they act to penalise the practice as best they can.

The Google Search Appliance (GSA) that LL use for All search was designed chiefly as an enterprise system. It therefore does not have to be very concerned with the gaming techniques of people who are determined to manipulate the rankings.

The good news is that the GSA does seem to penalise keyword spamming, but the bad news is that the bar is set stupidly high for a system used in SL and therefore exposed to the manipulations of muppets who are determined to exploit [every] loophole they can find.

While I remain terribly amused by the conceit of Muppet business owners--I imagine it as something like this--I also think he's right. And it's yet more evidence on what a flawed business decision it was to employ the GSA in the first place.

Two days back, now, the Primgraph launch party (or re-launch party) was a stunning success.



We were at the bottom of the Vernian Sea in Babbage, in a sealed dome named the Lotus of the Sea Gallery. Miss Breezy Carver owns it, and it was simply one of the most gorgeous places I've ever hosted a dance. Truly, the picture above does not do it justice.

There were so many celebrants on-hand dancing, talking, just showing up to the after-party, not even fifteen minutes into it I mostly dropped welcoming people in by name, and just started sending out "Welcome, all newcomers!" calls every few minutes. Because that many people were arriving, every few minutes.

We had an absolute blast, Elrik Merlin played an inspired mix of steampunk and steampunk-esque songs, and I danced with a new Jager:



Meet Maxim. Yes, that one. Even down to the red buckle on the hat. He called me "dollink" all night. I was quite charmed.

Coming up on another Thursday night Poetry Slam at der Hut, speaking of Jagerkin...this time around it's "earth" poetry. Whatever you can think of concerning earth as a concept or conceit in poem form, bring it on down. Remember our rules for poetry appreciation:

1. No push weapons.
2. All weapons must have temp-rez ammo.
3. Bring a sense of humor, you will need it!

Also, just out of curiosity...



(Click the larger image to see exactly how many books hit me after the poem.)

Who brought Tobin's Spirit Guide into world? This was not a good idea!

Now then, a few additional notes. I should mention at the outset, sometimes, the nights are very strange at the work studio. Case in point: the arrival of...Bun-Zorro.



Later on he got a cape:



Just so you have an idea of the scale...



Anyone who's seen me knows that I am not tall (save for lately, I seem to be wearing very tall shoes. Shhh.), and the current iteration of the studio is a 60x60 square megaprim. The rabbit is very large, then, yes.

[1:48] Fawkes Allen: Bun Diego de la Zanahoria is secretly Bun-Zorro! Defender of the common man of Bunifornia!
[1:49] Neome Graves: Right then.
[1:49] Neome Graves: So off to the Vendor supporting then? =P
[1:50] Midnight Bohemia: yes lets!
[1:59] Neome Graves: http://vendorsupportmonth.blogspot.com/

So off we went on the Vendor Support Month "hunt", dropping by the stores that sounded interesting off the website...though I did make one nearly fatal mistake at the beginning. Seen at Nushru in Cherry Park:



MY EYES! Gods, I don't even know what I came here for! My brain has been eaten by GLOW!

Seriously, nearly the entirety of the externals for Nushru are set to glow. And they're all pastel...flowers, rainbows, trees, clouds....dear gods, I couldn't get out of there fast enough.

To the designer's credit, she's participating in something like six hunts at present, so if you get past the glow and get into the store, there's at least five different pairs of heels to track down and abscond with.

[16:13] Sanura Sakai: Oh, here's a good one for you. I bought some cookies the other day, and it lists that it contains... 38% milk chocolate, 17% flavoured creme filling, 8% candy pieces and 8% pink squiggles. *snickers* Because, well, ya know that 7% yellow squiggle just isn't right.

You do have a point. Also, what level of ingredient is a pink squiggle? Topping? Candy? Preservative?

Lastly, a new designer (to me, at least) found sidewise: Lyric Demina of Chain & Vine/A Rose Mourning. She's proudly and serenely Gorean, and most of her furnishings and poseball sets are designed with Gorean (generally, and specifically, slave-breaking) needs in mind. How'ver, the sets she has upstairs (where the link leads you) are just amazing.

I admit, I bought her corner chair on an impulse, even though it was only a couples' set. It's thoroughly charming, dark, and lovely. And her stated RP limits--"Shut your eyes and sing to me"--are evocative and enthralling.

Unfortunately, that gives me another inventory item, and potentially the need to get out of the work studio and throw up an actual house somewhere.

Damn. I was so enjoying being the houseless iconoclast. And no, the ginormous tree stump on ground level in Morgaine doesn't count. Technically, that started out life as a cave anyway.

an empty glass, a topless babe, a knock on the door--

Meet Dexter.



I should point out, this Dexter, not this one. Just so we're clear.

He's Dexter Genesis in SL. Age fifteen, boy genius, and cursed or blessed with his equally intelligent, but far more scattered and accident-prone sister, DeeDee.

Meet DeeDee, while we're at it:



Her name is Deedee Calamity here, and she seems a little older than her small-screen counterpart. Also...there's been some sort of...accident in the transfer: she's...clockwork on the grid.

Now, all residents of Caledon know, there is little difference between clockwork and organic life on the grid. But--at least in her own universe--she was an organic girl, and only here is clockwork and gears.

She seems to have retained her sense of humor, which is a good thing. Me, I'm wondering how many other universes SL is going to bridge before we're done. First the WoW Gateway, which funnels traffic both directions; then the Wulfenbach contingent; now, Dexter and DeeDee.

Gosh. Who's next?

Also, advance notice (and I'll try to get a location SLUrl to tie to this): reserve May 30th if you can:



(Thanks go to Edward for getting me the pic; I don't know if he created it or not. Good portrait of the Clockwinder, though.)

It's insanely early (for the people on SLT), but it's a wonderful build opportunity, and a wonderful celebration of Mr. Tenk's time on the grid! Attend if you can. More information to come!

what better measure of what you were doing here than what you can leave behind

I'll likely have more to say on this topic than this one entry, but I did want to get this into print before I curled up for sleeping.

To preface anything I say: I, though I have walked the streets of Babbage (and found them lovely) and gone both to town meetings and social events, have not made Babbage the center of any of my experiences, by and large. I met Madcow Cosmos for the first time in New Babbage; I met Elda Luna for the first time in New Babbage; I discovered what an Air Kraken was the day Oolon Sputnik took Elda, Edward Pearse and I through his Etheric Transport Cabinet for the first time.

These are memories I cherish, and I still love the look, the layout, of New Babbage. But I freely admit, Caledon called harder, and I moved closer to Caledon as the days turned into weeks turned into years.

But, this doesn't mean it doesn't sadden me to see the same tragedy befall Babbage as befell Caledon--or at least, once befell Caledon, before Miss Kandace Commons, with the thanks of a grateful nation-state, left Caledon in a flurry of bile, curse words and poisoned shards of spite.

To wit, in this post from Babbage's forums, entitled Farewell New Babbage, posted by a rather well-known Urchin-about-town, Mr. Django Yifu asks--and considering the tone of some of the posts I've been reading through, he asks in an extremely gentle fashion--"How peaceful was Babbage before the return of Miss Commons?" in and amongst his other points.

Miss Commons' reply to this was just as full of spite and bitterness as I've come to expect from every other dealing I've had with her:

"This was brought up in previous threads before, but what I find sickening is that 'as a Nation State,' we seem to have an inability to dissent without being labeled as 'uncivil.' Pfft. Very very little has been said by anyone in the massive amounts of posts that have been generated that could rightly be labeled as uncivil. I'm sorry that you find it so incredibly offensive that people might explore and investigate topics and candidates who are vying for control over New Babbage, but so be it. As Mr. Merryman pointed out, the populace of New Babbage have an impressive ability to ignore rational argument in favor of complaining about the 'tone' or 'intent' of a post without nary a care for its CONTENT. Yes, I called someone a liar, with clear evidence that they did in fact lie. That's considered uncivil? Pardon me, I consider lying to be uncivil. I'm the one causing trouble by pointing it out? So be it. If a candidate who's attempting to become our new fearless leader is a demonstrated liar, I think that is important for everyone to know, so I put it out there."

So, let's see, more or less in order, these seem to be Miss Commons' main points. Do accept that I am broadly paraphrasing things:

* 'No one's saying anything less than respectful, what's your problem?'

* 'You people don't care what anyone says, as long as it sounds polite, so I'll just say what I need to say because truth is more important than phrasing!'

* 'Baron Wulfenbach is a big liar-head and he's always going to be a big liar-head and I've proven that so nyaah.'

You can see where I might have a problem with this.

But it doesn't stop there. Miss Trafalgar begs Miss Commons' indulgence, in not turning every forum post into a whinefest; Doctor Obolensky tells her to back it down because she's only contributing to the problem; a fellow Urchin, DreddPirate Bob, feels deep dismay for even mentioning the election to Mr. Yifu, as now Yifu is fully sick of the whole thing and of Babbage entire; and Miss Franizzi outright asks Miss Commons to stop.

Does she listen? Does she even reflect once on the impact of her words and consider moderating her behavior? Apparently not:

"ME stop? No offense, but that's bullshit. This was a clear personal attack aimed at me for no reason. Hypocritical, truly."

I have to laud Doctor Obolensky for this next reply:

"Kandace...

Even if it *was* a personal attack, it was about the mildest one I have seen. When you post, just take a brief moment to ask "Am I making this worse?".

Because you are, really. I don't really know if you intend it or not, but you take the slightest spark, and throw gasoline on it with the way you phrase things, and the words you use.

A solution to a problem rarely involves attacking a symptom with a sledgehammer."

Wiser words, in debates like this, might never have been spoken. And I tell you this knowing full well what I have said, in Caledon, and the last little contretemps I found myself in. And what did I do? Backed the hell off. I keep myself away from chat most of the time; if I get concerned about something, I always now stop, and ask--"Would responding to this harm Caledon seriously?" And if the answer even verges on a 'yes', and I can see no other reason to interact at that point but retaliation, I do not post.

How hard is that, truly?

Apparently, far too difficult for Miss Commons to grasp:

"There is nothing offensive about my posting, only the apparent need of certain residents in New Babbage to assume hostile intent. Contrary to what you seem to imply, it's not me against 'the rest of the internet.' There are actually rational people who grok what's being said. For the rest.... they can put on their big girl panties and deal with it, or leave."

Now, in all fairness, I must add something else before I finish this, namely, the words of Miss Kamloops, who claims Miss Commons as a close personal friend:

"As someone who knows Kandace in real life, and has known her for many years prior to me joining SL (2005), it upsets me to see people constantly attacking her for 'just wanting to hurt Babbage' or 'causing drama'. She has undoubtedly been tactless and hurtful to many residents and especially Shaun since being ousted, but this was entirely in response to BEING ousted for unjust reasons [ ... ]It has nothing to do with wanting to start drama; she really does care about the outcome. I don't say this because I am standing up for Kandace. I say this because I think many people don't understand her and take what she says in a way that differs from her intent in posting. In conclusion, she is tactless and blunt, always has been and always will be, but she does care for Babbage immensely and does want it to succeed."

I am not Miss Commons' friend. After she exploded for the first time--over security orbs in another sovereign nation, of all ridiculous things--in Caledon chat, and upended everything into a mire where the cursing spewing from her lips could have blistered lead paint at five paces, and easily two-thirds of Caledon promptly closed the window when she spoke--and we all could see exactly who left, as that was the time on the grid where every group window opening was followed by a running count of who joined and who left--I will never be anything less than overwhelmingly critical of her, without any additional forays into attacks on those with whom I am friends. Just her alone, I do not like, I will not like, that's plain and I'm uncompromising in this.

But for whatever reason, I have been where she is. I have perceived an issue so great that I was willing to cast aside decorum to breach the walls of silence, and make my voice be heard. I was willing to fly in the face of convention to save something I loved, something I thought then was truly at risk. I have railed against the darkening of the light, and mourned that my words were not heeded.

But nearly all of you know what happened after that. I listened. I grew up. I moved on. I accepted that wrong action, even for right reasons, remains wrong action. One of the guiding precepts of my life, here or elsewhere, is that beginnings must be clean, if endings are to be clean. I did not begin with clean hands; therefore, the entire process was tainted.

I know this now. And that is exactly what is infuriating me from a distance: Miss Commons seems doggedly determined to keep shouting her supposed 'truth' from the greatest height, into a megaphone, while carpet-bombing Babbage residents with biting sarcasm and bitter venom. And she doesn't see it.

Right now, almost all vocal residents of New Babbage just want the whole process to be over already. It has turned uglier than even Miss Commons' once-infamous wrangling with Winterfell in CalChat; it has made several residents of New Babbage leave New Babbage, establishing homes temporarily--or perhaps not so temporarily--in other sims, and--at least in the case of Yifu, and I know this well, if there's one, there are others--inspired more to leave the entire grid.

And she doesn't see this.

Even someone claiming to know her well calls her tactless, blunt and hurtful.

I know the life of a sledgehammer. I know its mental weight in my hand, the effort it takes to swing at objects at a remove from myself; I know how much power it takes to keep it moving forward until it strikes its target and the target shatters from the force of the blow. I know how often there is peripheral damage, shrapnel shards sunk into innocent flesh, feelings and hearts hurt and bleeding from what my hammer has done.

I am trying to be better. I am trying to choose my words with care. I am trying to know that if I engage in argument, in the fostering of drama, that I am part of what holds things back from escalating to lethal levels. I am trying to listen more than I speak, and speak carefully when I do.

The sledgehammer has no conscience. The sledgehammer swings, and it will strike whatever is in its path as it swings for the target. Ideals, philosophy, young thoughts, old feelings, all are crushed in an instant. The sledgehammer doesn't care.

I care. I hope to all my gods Miss Commons does too. But once we reach the point where people see our names and log off, rather than face what we might do, what we might say--we have lost the battle. No amount of shrieking into her megaphone, insinuating the concepts of so-called 'rational' discussion while she proves by her very wording her argument is anything but rational...no amount of ground gained in these pitched pit battles will equal the amount of ground she has lost.

Believe me, I know. At this point Doctor Obolensky is right--she is making the problem worse, and she needs to stop. She needs, more than anything else, to choose her words with great care. She needs to stop putting out fires with gasoline.

Because a New Babbage turned over to the winner of the elections, that turns out to be empty? Serves no one. And that really seems to be what things are pushing towards unless something changes.