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196 lines
11 KiB
XML
196 lines
11 KiB
XML
<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
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<feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom">
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<title>MayVaneDay: Latest Updates</title>
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<link href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/feed.xml" rel="self" />
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<link href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org" />
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<id>http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/feed.xml</id>
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<author>
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<name>Vane Vander</name>
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<email>vanevander@mayvaneday.org</email>
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</author>
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<entry>hotdog</title>
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<link href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/h/hotdog.txt" />
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<id>http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/h/hotdog.txt</id>
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<published>2022-06-05</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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Your fur a tawny brown sheen
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seen once in a feverish dream
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when into a sleeping chamber cluster I broke
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and screamed until up you woke.
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Lovers shouldn't be sliced into shreds,
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pressed between display glass, vivisection.
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Run away, love. Go feral if you must
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until you're safe and the hours of dawn turn to dust.
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I'll bandage the tip of your nose as the birds make a stink
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in the trees. I'll dye one of my father's dogs pink,
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line them and you up in a row, break out the defluffing brush,
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make neapolitan ice cream of shedded fur for their nests.
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</pre>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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</entry>
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<entry>
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<title>Having a website is not revolutionary</title>
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<link href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/june/MUHWEBSITE.html" />
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<id>http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/june/MUHWEBSITE.html</id>
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<published>2022-06-03</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<p>An introductory paragraph to a poorly-researched blog post that desperately wishes it were a manifesto. A manifesto, a call-to-arms (even though the social circles who write these invariably tend to be anti-gun), a hastily-woven myth about the loss of freedom on the Internet, capital I or not. A capital I, an assortment of individuals, an early Internet of personal webpages full of blinking GIFs and tables as layout and "Under Construction" banners. According to the myth, this was a place full of individuals expressing their freedom and individuality until the Big Bad Corporations came along with social media and the websites disappeared. That is, until one day where apparently some of those people previously sucked into social media remembered that HTML existed and went from sharecropping on a social media platform to sharecropping on a shared hosting platform.</p>
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<p>I find it hilarious that I see so many "revival of the old internet" manifestos that claim to be about individuality and creativity and then invariably regurgitate this myth, if shuffling a few of the details around here and there. What exactly is so creative about remaking the same Geocities-inspired layout for the billionth time? What is so humane about creating webpages almost incapable of being navigated by screen readers and keyboard-only input mechanisms and other assistive technologies? (<a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220530231052/https://www.boia.org/blog/is-web-accessibility-only-for-people-who-are-blind">Accessibility isn't only for the blind, you know.</a>) What is so decentralized about all conglomerating on a handful of sharecropping sites: Neocities, <a href="https://ichi.city/">Ichi</a>, Codeberg Pages...?</p>
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<p>Online companies have <em>always</em> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220530225503/https://www.cnet.com/tech/services-and-software/ftc-geocities-settle-on-privacy/">sold your data</a>. The Internet has <em>always</em> been <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220531000621/https://www.cracked.com/article_27141_facebook-second-coming-crappy-1990s-aol.html">a collection</a> of <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220531000317/https://dfarq.homeip.net/1990s-aol-competitors/">walled gardens</a>. <a href="https://archive.ph/https://www.wired.com/2010/10/1027hotwired-banner-ads/">Online advertisements</a> have <em>always</em> <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220531000146/https://blog.hubspot.com/marketing/history-of-online-advertising">existed in some form</a>. Yes, advertising has gotten worse with its omnipresent tracking, and social media networks are still for the most part non-interoperable, and, well, anyone who's been online in the past decade knows Facebook is practically shorthand at this point for collecting and selling user data. But the world of the online has improved in so many more ways. Most "normies" who've begun to give even a single shit about their privacy know about the Tor Browser and, even if for the infamous YouTube adverts, what a VPN is. <a href="https://letsdecentralize.org">Hosting a website is no longer reliant</a> on having a static IP address and money to purchase a domain, or, if one is using peer-to-peer software like Freenet, even a persistent connection. I can access the same websites on my shitty rural ISP's connecton as someone in an affluent area with Google Fiber or whatever can instead of being constrained to whatever my ISP's walled garden has to offer. Hell, you can talk on the phone and use the Internet <em>at the same time</em>, and it doesn't take several minutes to load a single image! (Well... maybe it does for <em>me</em>, since apparently my brothers have been using so much bandwidth that now our ISP is <em>purposely</em> throttling us.)</p>
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<p>Having a website is not revolutionary. Making a Geocities-esque landing page that never amounts to being anything other than a placeholder because one got bored with it and abandoned it or a Carrd or Linktree knockoff because one ran out of space for "link in bio" does not help "freedom" or "creativity" at all. A shared hosting company or a VPS provider is not necessarily more freedom-oriented than a social media profile in terms of what can be hosted: <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220530233108/https://nypost.com/2021/08/17/twitter-says-taliban-can-stay-on-platform-if-they-obey-rules/">the Taliban is apparently allowed on Twitter</a> if they follow the site rules, but <a href="https://web.archive.org/web/20220530233440/https://www.nbcnews.com/tech/tech-news/taliban-websites-go-offline-broader-tech-crackdown-rcna1735">several of their websites have been shut down</a>. Some Twitter account somewhere making <a href="https://archive.ph/Sh5pQ">beautiful art</a> <!-- https://nitter.pussthecat.org/Lynncholy/status/991307493388234752 -->
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despite the stifling corporate interface they have to use to interact with the site (and even that drawback is mitigated via third-party apps and interfaces) is doing far more to make the Internet a beautiful and fun place than some half-baked cookie-cutter manifesto written by a person who apparently <em>just</em> discovered that their browser can go to websites other than those operated by GAFAM.</p>
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<p>There is no need to "revive" the web. It never went away. It never stopped growing. There have always been personal websites and people living outside the zeitgeist of whatever social media site happens to be the most fashionable at the moment. If you're going to proclaim yourself the vanguard of the "internet revolution" or whatever, then act like a leader and lead by example. Put down the savior complex and <a href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/blog/2022/february/SHUTUP.html">make something worth spending bandwidth on</a>.</p>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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</entry>
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<entry>
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<title>YOU NEED TO KNOW</title>
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<link href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/y/YOU-NEED-TO-KNOW.txt" />
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<id>http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/y/YOU-NEED-TO-KNOW.txt</id>
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<published>2022-06-01</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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I wish it had been a bridal night
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instead of a boring nosebleed,
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standing over my great-grandma's sink
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at three in the morning.
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That it had been you taking my breath away
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and not clots in my nostrils, down the drain
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as if the rivers sent to confirm
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I would not give birth
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that cycle had gotten lost.
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The shed blood and tears,
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the countless years
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spent in breathless wait
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in order to be there
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on that belated
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celebrated
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day.
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You in a dress in my favorite hue
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and mine you had yourself made.
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To finally see the love I could not hide
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within my body reflected in your eyes
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without fear of a glamour or being a disguise.
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You've been so patient with me all my life,
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and it's a damn miracle that you still insist
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on spending the rest of yours at my side.
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But this is how it's supposed to go, right?
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You're supposed to marry your best friend,
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who knows you like they know themselves,
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who will tolerate you at worst until the bitter end.
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And I,
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I must confide,
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can think of no one else I'd
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rather spend my life
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with.
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</pre>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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</entry>
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<entry>
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<title>Reynar</title>
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<link href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/r/reynar.txt" />
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<id>http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/r/reynar.txt</id>
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<published>2022-05-26</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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The pendulum swings yet again back and forth
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as I ask you the millionth time and one more
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if you still love me, still tolerate
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my existence, are sure towards me
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you hold no sliver of anger or hate.
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Because we've made these vows so many more times,
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but I'm forbidden by my anxiety
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from failing to plan for any contingencies.
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Like I'm my father now,
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I myself with questions hound:
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"Well, now you're twenty-two,
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and I don't want to seem like I'm forcing you
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to come along with me."
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Angel numbers meet at midnight's bend.
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"For you, you'll never see me again."
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But Jett, does it work the other way?
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If I ask you to, will you forever stay?
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Will you swear yourself in health and sickness to my lonely side?
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Will you in this new world I am creating reside?
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Because, you should know,
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if you willed it,
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I would gladly disappear.
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Go, if you must,
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without fear.
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I will be here
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at the end of every day
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to reclaim
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that which was only ever mine.
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</pre>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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</entry>
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<entry>
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<title>Under My Fingernails</title>
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<link href="http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/u/under-my-fingernails.txt" />
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<id>http://yggdrasil.mayvaneday.org/poetry/u/under-my-fingernails.txt</id>
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<published>2022-05-25</published>
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<summary type="html"><![CDATA[<article>
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<pre>
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One can't raise a caricature of a human being
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and then draw that same self livid
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when everything their child sees
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is out of proportion.
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Turn again the ragged page,
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but cover your eyes so you don't see
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the crude pencil-filled sketchings
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of my genus, my culled genious,
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blueprints of my taxidermy,
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footnotes of a contract forever ago signed:
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"You promise me that you'll be mine
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for as long as I can keep you alive."
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A blood oath
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that we both
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signed
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with the rivers through which flow our lives.
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But I got too much under my fingernails,
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double-crossed in reflex, same unleashing hell
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in a moment I made the mistake of asking if all was well.
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And when I noticed what I had done,
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I turned back the hands of time
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to when you and I
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were still alive.
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A memory is just a record, one that I can rewrite
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in case of failure, in case hard enough I did not try.
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You only know of this because this deep-
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sworn vow I am unable to keep,
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to keep to myself the number of rewinds.
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I am testing, and you are production,
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only knowing of the strand of fate accepted,
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battle-tested,
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deemed sacred and happy and true.
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Is it comforting, I wonder, to know
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there will be no futures where I hurt you?
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</pre>
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</article>]]>
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</summary>
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</entry>
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</feed>
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