This internet thing is just not happening for me in Germany. And for a Bangalore girl, that’s sooo not ok. I feel disconnected and hopeless. So here I am, early too, sitting outside Café Alte Feuer Wache, connected to the net, or so it says. Communication Breakdown was playing on my IPod and now we’re on to Honky Tonk Woman (from where to where, and it’s yes, all Freudian) and I still haven’t figured why I can’t connect. I have network, I have a password… Kansas, this ain’t, Toto.
I don’t see why grown-ups crib; I love the internet, I love Facebook, I love blogging, I love my IPod, I love Youtube so I conclude that I must be fully establishment or else a 44 year old teenager with zero critical sense. It’s the unformed virtuality of it that’s the thing of all things, innit? Oh, we’re not idiots, we know someone’s keeping a tab, that Facebook has made gazillions off of us and that Youtube is super un-agreggated. But we don’t care, see? And what other space allows so many freaks and weirdos to gather in one hub and turn on, drop out and find support for the same. It’s almost as good as rock ‘n’ roll (but not quite).
Finally, after several hours of belly-aching I realize that some of my settings must have changed since I can’t even access the net inside the café and no password request pops up. Ohhhhhh, how I miss my technophile way, way better half.