Tag Archives: avatar

February Lament

In an attempt to avoid catching stomach flu, I used the bathroom in the other house, which meant a fifty foot trek across glare ice each way. One of the cats threw up in my recliner. Somebody called me and wanted to sell me rocks. That might not seem so bad but I do know what I need, want and can afford, and taking in consignment in February does not appeal to me. I did tell the person that my shop isn’t heated. I hope I didn’t sound rude and crabby. Having given up on accomplishing much of anything, I decided to celebrate Shrove Tuesday (Carnaval, Pancake Day, Butter Day, Fat Tuesday, Mardi Gras) via my avatar in the virtual world called SecondLife. A virtual world is a pixelated fantasy that some people take far too seriously. In all fairness, it must be recognized that SecondLife is a fully realized world. My avatar has shopped, socialized, established businesses, attended classes, plays, church services, concerts, poetry readings and lectures, participated in sports, examined museums and galleries, shared coffee, conversation and music with like-minded residents, all these activities were positive. Tonight I/she looked for a Mardi Gras party, and stumbled into a club called Tops and Bottoms. There, a female avatar dressed in feathers was doing an exotic dance for tips from the gentlemen. One thing to remember about SecondLife is that some of the women are men, but most of the men are men, but not always. He/she invited me to sit and watch the dance, or to dance myself if I chose. (I, too, was wearing feathers). When I finally realized what kind of place I was in, I teleported to another area. I did manage to dance a samba and get a photo. Correction. My avatar danced. I sat at a computer.

poem about my avatar

This night is not for sad souls such as I,

My hours underneath these stars are long,

A thousand lights of lust have passed me by

I do not know what I am doing wrong.

I think it is because I did not learn

The little lessons of deceit and guile,

The whirling of the skirt, the eyes that burn,

The rippling hair, the elemental smile.

Too late for me. I love my face too much

To sacrifice one angle or one line,

The truth will keep me from a lover’s touch,

And hold from me the shared glass of wine.

And yes, I wonder……have I chosen well?

I’ve kept the parts that are my very own.

Ah, had I bought the dream that vendors sell,

I do not know whose heart I might have won