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VB4: In Webs

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  • VB4: In Webs

    I think what my brother and I enjoyed together programming was beautiful, but I am sure I remember it differently than him. I really distinctly remember having had made progress, broken through on the AOL proggie "Flaming Jesus". In Visual Basic 4, usually, we would first design the opening screen (some of the proggies had intros with music, graphics, even animation to an extent). I remember walking up the stairs from the computer, it was dimmer in the stairwell up, and I came excited to tell him what I did. He didn't seem to be interested. I walked back to the computer down there somewhat reminded of Why I lose myself behind this screen for hours, but not why. The why is blacked out like spraypaint over a camera's face. The screen has no message, and what's the worry, what's the wonder-- I can go on it and see the program play, press "Run" and like a joy animated I can click any of the separate buttons, and what's inside them is pure code. The code which I always loved to get down, and have it functional. I realize now that code is in everything, little language and vibrations, they can call them strings but shapes tend to change even when they're not changing -- digital imprint of IP address and static/dynamic hopping port sniffs, to find on a network the sole whisper of light in a dark beyond the world.
    It's the program which kept me designing, and it was mostly practice. I programmed a lot without Chris.
    I made programs to save text, a virtual "notepad" with some cool customized things, it was called Word Log, a play on my name seen backwards, in a certain light.
    I made programs, too, which were a bit more insidious: One of them would hide itself and its process list, so you couldn't detect it, and would also invisibly bring you to a chatroom wherein I could 'command' those 'servers' as 'host'. Though I never much took advantage of that function, really. I was amazed, and it worked on my own experiments.
    I made idle bots which said every specified interval, of how long you've been away from the keyboard. I designed interfaces I found, and some were modeled with the tools of Visual Basic. I loved figuring things out, and breaking through; I loved the lines that would run together, or parallel, sometimes joining in corners, I could make the entire interface as I wished.
    I love analyzing things. The way it is put together, I was flabbergasted for so long, and still I can't understand how an entire language could be made to program a language, and what that would mean to have to "design" what I was using to design my own programs.
    I would download .BAS files from the websites around the net and study the code.
    I would eventually come to learn another language, by way of mIRC networks. The days of worrying about nothing, while pretending to my friends that I was older so that I could hang with them, program, chat, etc.
    I don't remember the conversations I had with the people from the net, but I remember their handles they used, as well as my own.
    It's weird ...
    I worry and I wonder, still, about secret things that happened in the past, my past, about what I've done, sometimes, but more than that I worry and wonder about what OTHER PEOPLE DID too back there. I don't understand why, other than because I'm paranoid of programmers on the internet, who stole something, or something like that.
    But nothing's gone.
    I have the good memories I don't quite know what to do with, it's as if I'm in love with them, haunted to the point of subliminal and actual pain, taunted into a certain pattern.
    So I can only use what it is that I love about what was me back there, behind a screen I'm still behind, call it-- 13 years ... 14 ... 20 years easily altogether.
    And compacted inside each gear and wire of every computer I've ever touched, the gold within the metal boxes which carries miniscule sparks ... with every little mouth of the ports opened, every scintillation of note carried after being caught, it's deaf wonder holding me ... in its arms, --am I the baby or it?
    I can't love without it, so what's that mean -- I'm both? I become the mother and a child again.
    The baby of my time spent worrying at wonderful things that weren't even happening. Stare down the silence until the digital turns communicable, all from a single undivided "something".
    Conglomerated out of the separate other things,-- and exactly how air is like water: Within them there is another reality that is not apparent to the eye, and there exists even the one beyond any measurement. But of course.
    What should I do with having fallen in love with the prima materia, when I catch myself feeding myself, and I cry and tantrum, drumming up a little baby's song on the cold glowing linoleum floor, flecked with little pale flowers.
    Isn't it that there's too much to even contain, so it's broken open anyway, everyday, against the stairs which lead upward, and the stars which revolve around them?
    I'm dizzy, and the Net has no real sky ... it's my mind which falls in webs, in webs, in webs, around the architecture of my own current.
    I love it.

  • #2
    This fascinates me. I return your comment as to whether it's autobiographical - such wonderful historical overview of a life expanding within the confines of the byte - itself seemingly endless. I particularly loved the mother/child query. Passion on display - for sure.


    • amenOra
      amenOra commented
      Editing a comment
      Warms my little heart to hear that, I am glad you thought so, that was my "volte" as it were
      Yes it's autobiographical and thanks for the reply -- with love

    • amenOra
      amenOra commented
      Editing a comment
      Yeah you might have had the question in mind, What's my real name, Well Drew Gold Backwards is the play I was making on those words...