Last blog before the death of Xtie

That's right.
No more plurk, no more wave, no more blogging.
I'm pulling the plug, just in time to dig my heels into Spring.
I'll be writing in my journal, talking IRL
Commenting on bathroom stall posts
The wall that makes a public space private, momentarily
where writing turns personal into political
or shamelessly inspirational.

First bathroom stall post on a clean, white wall:

- "I refuse to shave or otherwise get rid of my public hair.
       Am I weird?"

-  No, but trimming is nice.
-  Nope, it's yours.  Do what you want with it!
-  No, go natural, but too bushy could result in thicker undies.
-  You should try shaving or waxing at least once.
       I think you will love it!  You feel so clean and sexy if you do.
-  Yeah, sexy as a 7 year old girl!  Gross.
-  You won't be able to wait for it to grow back -
       itchy and comfortable for weeks!
-  but you can't go muff diving if she doesn't have hair there!
-  Start the revolution!  Natural normal again!
-  Yoni love!"

Hilarious!  Pricelss. 
Annonymos except for the handwriting.
Three of the nine responses were mine -
Can you guess which three?
You would never find that on plurk.
The timeline is ticking, you're plurking
waiting for more of the same.

Plurk is a prision in time space
It makes me feel like eating frozen pizza
and popping social interaction pills.
It's addictive.  Sometimes I overdose
my brain feels mushy and my eyes hurt
too much straing at a radiating screen.

The death of Xtie will be nothing like the death of nanotext.

That was a case of a host being too busy with an overload of high-maintence guests.  It became impossible to have that many conversations at once, while preparing the "meat" of the course, feeding his parasite babies well. 

As nanotext, he thought he could keep up at nanospeed, while trying to have a life as Tony outside this context.  But he was falling behind, digging his grave.  He was tired and not sleeping, strung out on stress. 

He had no choice to back away from his level of involvement, but as a good teacher/parent/host, he knew that consistency is key, so he deleted nanotext and opened an account for the_author.  The author rarely needs to contribute or mediate because the books we're reading have already been written.  Also, the parasites were already able to navigate through this spaceless space with less direction and explaination.  Their identities were already established and could live on thier own. 

But the parasites were sad and confused about their change in host.  They experienced separation anxiety.  They wanted to be nutured again.  They wanted to be in-utero, or at least nurse again.  Like a teenage riot who lost a leader, some of them will forever lift their cups in his honor.

The death of Xtie will be nothing like that.

I don't have a cult following.  My only "fans" that follow my plurks are in Cypress, because my profile used to say I lived there, and they (thought) I live(d) there too.  Now they must find me just as looney as everyone else does.  I tend to disagree with most people about most things, but tire of so much arguing in this weird personal/public space.  I don't belong in this context, and no one will miss me.  If I stay here, I'll miss myself.  I'm breaking free, liberating myself from cyberspace as much as possible, at least for Spring and Summer.  So if you're ever wondering what happened to Xtie, that's where you can picture me--under the sunny summer sun, living, breathing, being outside.  Planting, harvesting, climbing, swimming.