2nd Sex

2011-06-06T05:49:00.000-07:00

3D SL

I've done stereograph sl, and even produced some reduced photos from it. One problem is that SL's models show up the limitations of the av.

Some how there is a lesson here

2011-06-06T05:42:00.001-07:00

I think the word "legacy" is right. Some noxious, dull, large, task needs to be done, and no one wants to do it.

So everyone suffers from the 4096 bug and the 10k vanity.

Four Bars From Symphony in C

2011-06-06T05:36:00.000-07:00

A clattering clash out of key, and my feet must move to it.
An arabesque penchee is grindstone that wheels me about,
counterpoise, and upon a bridge to beauty,
to become a machine for dancing.

Another nightfall

2011-06-04T06:23:00.000-07:00

I have been looking forward to the coming of meshes for a long time, because prims, really, are parametric horrors that limit our creativity. But I've found in these waning days that there are some virtues to their limitations and the things that have been done with them show that the unexpected delights of pain in art are not to be completely neglected. The new world, like the world of clothes post-sculptie, will be better.

Much, much, much. If LL is too sloppy to make it work, then at least it is a glimpse of virtual world future, where "world class" to use a phrase which I think is destined for laugh lines, design can be almost instantly introduced. But it is also an end to the gifted amateur, because, as has already happened, you can't make in SL, which means you make as your rl self, and then push into a back world. The gift of prims was that you could be your other self while making, and develop an artistic personality that suited the limits. I've set up some of my old things, and perhaps people will drop by and see some of the raw power of what old prims could do, before setting off to remake everything. In about a year or so it will be time to take all of this down, dump it someplace in a corner, and let it gather that digital dust that time provides.

Oh yes, if you are inclined to visit, here is the slurl which is my open studio. If you run into me, I might be changing clothes or some such, and that's the hazard of walking in on the artist working. Or you might get whacked by something flying. Just so you know.

There is a meaning

2011-06-01T20:27:00.000-07:00

After a bit over a year of being hard at work paying back student loans and generally proving to the world that I am not purely a pizza addicted graduate student, it seems as if there should be some meaning to my life other than adjudicating between very very wealthy people who deserves more money.

I'm just not sure there are shoes in it.

2011-05-23T19:28:00.000-07:00

Lady Gear

2011-05-23T19:27:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I am here... Sometimes I am not

2011-05-16T17:48:00.000-07:00

A short post to keep the blog alive, no more than that really. My rl is doing well, and as a result sl has faded into the back drop. I hope everything is well in all your worlds.

The cave of night our journey's mend,
with dreams that some how cease to portend their meaning
within pretension's gossamer grasp,
the flight that was or past, now entangled,
in that the web of perception's light illusion.
Now feigning interest in the play,
that conscience's king has crowned again,
wish wallow in our wonder delights.

There is a wendigo

2010-12-06T20:31:00.000-08:00

There is an egg filled with wind,
It spirals in your hand.
It cracks and cackles with delight,
Buoyed by breath of cockatrice,
All hollow, and turned to stone.

Something I ran across

2010-11-13T03:24:00.001-08:00

Dining and gender.

2010-09-29T20:08:00.000-07:00

At the exposure gallery on tabula rasa

From the artist's statement...

Artist Statement Eliza Wierwight

"Symbolic - A woman's potential journey symbolized by the veneer of the dresses ( masks ) we wear . The trophies we acquire as we become trophies to society's expectations and our inherent values reflected by both. The darkness of that undertow contained in the veneer of beauty. I both claim and deny these duties."

Sculpture Providence

This piece was a part of Eliza Wierwight's University of Western Australia 1st Prize Flagship Challenge on June 9, 2010. It was displayed in the PATRON build designed by Eliza Wierwight which is at the time of writing this notecard in contention for being built in real life.

UWA blog announcement of winners.

This specific dress includes textures gifted to Eliza by Cuwynne Deerhunter & Igor Ballyhoo .

Wish for a baptism

2010-09-29T09:21:00.000-07:00

Pray for a baptism and the heavens will send you fire,
a drenching pain dissolving the bonds that bind one people to another.
Leaving behind a flurry gray of ash and molten mire.
A dirge writ with Destiny as hidden author.
Played for this, fifth or sixth, neo-Roman Empire

We are shouted at too demure,
We are told that we are too pure,
So much Freedom, to endure.
A knock, a bullet, an unnumbered flight,
the remnants not to come to light.

An election by election,
decision by decision,
This becomes some less perfect union,
as those who made it rebel,
and call the country they have made a hell.

Deeper into the darkness we descend,
farther into the mountains we cannot defend,
further into the night that does not end,
scourging hurts we will not mend.
Tortured tangled maimed and bloody sulk,
Behind once a country, to be reborn a twisted hulk.

For Angelo

2010-09-24T13:36:00.000-07:00

You decline.
It is class, and the nouns of ancient tongue clatter and clash
within your brain.
The nuance escapes of vocative interogative ablative instrumental.
And more of a bearded teacher grown, with age, swirled
and temperamental.
And if you were so inclined,
a flashing smile might win more than your mind.
Whether you are a boy or girl,
would not matter to him at this point.

You decline.
In the class rankings with this semester,
bloated on the food, and blissful risking trimester.
The finals were spent with sun and sand,
rather than in library cloister.
Your words are not tight, but out of hand
poured on page, to quickly scatter.
But what does it really matter?
As a sophmore, the world's an oyster.

You decline.
The offer is not fat enough,
the workload seems large and rough,
the boss is absolutely to gruff.
You're in demand, so why work, when you can slough.
But there are shadows closing in,
is this the only place there is to win?

It is twilight, and the second self has left,
you sit there drinking, alone, and berift.
The choices are simple, and of a time,
do you stand and live,
or do you decline?

I'm signing on board with a Not For Profit

2010-09-21T16:27:00.001-07:00

It will mean a largish parcel with 2500 prims to work with, which will allow me to do some of my primier projects.

Second Life's Tea Party is Pooped

2010-09-20T18:11:00.000-07:00

This is on a parcel owned by several libertarian extropians. Yes the brown things are what you think they are. No I didn't have anything to do with it, I just took the picture.

Seems like the tea is weak on Second Life. By the time I left they were blaming leftists. Obviously the anarcho-capitalist Mormon Ayn Rand following leftists about which we hear so much.

In Belly of the Beast Model

2010-09-18T22:47:00.001-07:00

This is a picture of one moment of my kinetic sculpture "In the Belly of the Beast," in model form, the original takes up a full sim. The churning and swirling shapes are meant to evoke the noise and chaos of the decade we have left behind: wars, storms, and a pervasive collapse of hope. It will be part of next week's show I am doing at the Lillie Pad.

Art Show in Second Life Coming

2010-09-14T00:13:00.000-07:00

I am putting together a small showing of some of my works in SL, largely pictures because I do not have access to the prims for my sculptures. It will include models, portraits, pictures of others builds as landscapes, and a rotating display of some of my sculptures.

I have come I have gone

2010-08-29T18:05:00.000-07:00

I have come I have gone,
I have walked, I have stood,
I have had my body pushed against the wall.
I have learned, trust no one. No one.
Not the man who warms you bed,
not the professors who fill your head,
not the parties in the fray,
whose rhetoric holds the day.

Trust no one,
not the voices that claim for good,
or the lonely misunderstood.
Trust no one my child, trust no one.

For in the bitter end,
they will steal the smallest value,
and think they were a friend.

Oh and by the way

2010-08-22T22:18:00.001-07:00

If you don't like your computer being used for a Disributed Denial of Service Attack... then vote this JIRA up....

Option to remove splash screen

Back from Europe

2010-08-22T21:25:00.000-07:00

And in second life. It has gotten meaner since I left, and this said as someone who spent time in the demi-monde of SL.

Where I am going with this

2010-07-04T00:30:00.001-07:00

I started out needing an out from my ordinary writing, which has to be much more restrictive than my mind, fingers, and spirit desire. Second Life seemed like a place to create a role that was me, but not me, and do the things that are me, and not me. It allowed me to speculate on philosophy of existence, and spurred my writing.

However, it hasn't for some time, partially because fewer and fewer interesting people are entering, and more and more it is a grind of a few places and pleasures. New technology and another wave of improvements might change this, but from what I have seen, probably not. M can be rereplaced by P but that's not the root of the problem. Second Life is caught: it is hard to be yourself, and even harder not to be. Flashes of the real person glimmer, and fade. That which was out of reach years ago, is still out of reach. Second Life has gone through its cycle and is fading, as I felt it would even as I first pushed through.

However, the same topics interest me, and still are unfulfilled in ordinary life. The same problem with writing about sex as a spiritual activity that Second Life had, is general. While virtual worlds are more visible in how people enact and expose their libido, the problems are the same. The desires are the same, only the navigation of them changes.

For the same reason there is a need to write fiction. Two novels stare back at me, unfinished, a bed unmade, creates a troubled sleep.

So later this month I will redo this blog, and see if there's light at the end of this particular tunnel. The world is still the world, we are still sexual beings, and there is a great mass of sexism to cut through, there is a great mass of racism to cut through. Consider this list of most beautiful women. All are white, except two, who are white with enough color. No Latinas, no Asians, no dark Africans. Out of 3 billion women in the world, 2.5 billion do not qualify for their taste. Those of us who don't, aren't oblivious to this message.

It's been some time

2010-06-29T16:28:00.000-07:00

I'm going to overhaul this blog, I don't spend enough time on second life to be a second life or virtual blog any more. Changes coming.

Story of the Cul-de-sac courtesean

2010-06-05T06:04:00.000-07:00

They've also been so supportive over the years. My life was turned upside down two years ago when the police raided my bungalow and charged me with brothel-keeping. The case came to court in April and I was absolutely terrified. Legally, one woman can sell sex, but not two or more working together.

UK's prostitute murders

2010-05-29T22:56:00.000-07:00

The Guardian on the recent spate of prostitute murders.

Arizona threatens to cut power to Los Angeles

2010-05-20T21:33:00.001-07:00

War over racist bill escalates.