Recycling Notes
The role of recyclist can be repurposed and adapted, based on context. There is a squirrel hunched over what might be a black walnut. They come closer, continue. Undignified posture. I'm looking at them through the one door in a wall of windows, which is also a window. Facing West.
I'm thinking of designing a web-page where it asks the user, after some preview text, how curious they are. Then it displays a number of sections, according to their level of interest. The next question might be "how much time do you have?" with a slider bar or choices one through six, and this determines how long each section is, how much hidden text is revealed.
If you are reading this, and your answer is low for either question, then you can safely stop after this paragraph, [executive] summary of what's below.
~
They were a repurposer of worlds. A planet in a suit. Recycled minimalist mobile biome, that did the best it could with loose integrity patterns.
I should have come here with some kind of cue card, a prompt. Instead, it is me, drinking in the late afternoon, sunlight coming through a west-facing window.
It is so hard for me to coordinate and reward the different parts of myself, clamoring for validity and attention, that I despair of the ability of a village, or city, or nation, to do so accurately.
But let this be a performance at the port city of End, a re-imagining of what it means to write, to find an audience.
What am I writing, what am I doing here, what character do I play?
I am a human, and it is important to leave a verifiable trace for some of the stories, the narratives, that are about to unfold, apparently from various sources.
If you are going to stick around for a while, while I finish this beer and type these words, here is my roadmap, my plan:
- Ideal Community [#ideal-community]
- Metagame
- Treehouse
- Community Garden
- Playing Cards
Cardboard pedestal in an abandoned ball-room loved by vines and itinerant critters.
I live in a insular community, where you have to watch carefully the things you say. I have always insisted on writing to people I like, not those who have power over me. These messages will not be crafted with the purpose of improving my financial or social positioning, to jostle shoulders with keepers of gates and paper fences.
My ideal audience isn't crowded with stranger's whose contexts and perspectives and interpretive codes for language are necessarily alien and inscrutable, but rather a small group of friends and close second order associates, a network glowing at the edges.
Metagame
I had a dream, more or less, of fomenting incipient revolution by playing role playing games. Inculcating the youth with egalitarian, collaborative practices.
A small child I live with just came in, downstairs, crying. It is time to end the strek
Power
You grant legitimacy to systems by challenging them within the systems, using the tools they provide, with no access to the root layers.
It's all about the genre, the tone, the selected media and licenses to broadcast.
The revolution will not be
between clear lines of battle
A mechanical beetle
verdigris and steampunk xenomorphic the hibernation of surprise coiled opposite of entropy dense alien instructions prostructions and constructions half telepath conjecture