Saturday, June 06, 2009


I just bought the first person shooter game Half Life. I think it was released two years go. I waited to buy the game because they get cheaper the longer they are out. I knew it was rated mature for violence and once I started playing I knew why. There is some very realistic life taking choreography going on. The first time you strike the scull masked guards in the forehead with a bullet and watch the game physics pull the virtual skeleton to the ground it is sublime and grotesque all at once. The 2nd time of shooting these straw dogs and you feel like you may have a problem. Foe 1000 and its just time your annihilating before dinner, a few dozen corpses and the tortellini and garlic toast should be done. This moral quagmire is made even more interesting if you listen to a podcast on Aristotle while your painting post apocalyptic, Canadian concrete in broad raspberry swaths . According to this famous Lesbian philosopher, it is important to discern pleasure derived by perversity from say pleasure derived by helping others. This fondles my faculties of insight. The word perversity momentarily bridges the sludge between my ears and I nail a flammable 50 gal. drum. with an automatic pistol. The barrel ignites, sending the para-military dolls helter skelter to make cartwheels against pale sky, their petite frames terminating onto computer generated landfill soil, crumpled about themselves like tissue paper prayers. Even though I am listening to the podcast, I have memorized my enemies pronounced last gasps of air and the sudden flat lining of their communication radios. I scuttle through in a gas powered air boat to the next level. The podcast fades in again. This time the understated broadcast personality chortles something about discerning between distractions. Crafting inspiring verse is preferred to parlor games... I take down one of the ubiquitous black helicopters of "dystopian gardens west" and watch as the pilot is ejected and free falls, its chivalric carriage engulfed in a ball of sputtering fire and lands on top of him... or her, whichever the case may be, they all look a like.

No comments:

About Me

My photo
St. Augustine, Florida, United States
I spill ink ,it collects here.