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Bruisin' Cruisin' The headline is mostly a joke. We're having a great time. Nine stories below the window of the Internet cafe is a steel-blue ocean dotted with whitecaps below a perfect blue sky of white puffy clouds. We last saw land yesterday at about 11pm, when the boat passed a lighthouse at the edge of a small town on some island that peeked over the horizon. Above us the sky was no longer a land-lit dome, but Infinitude Itself, with stars shining out of a Nothing so vast and black it was scary. The cafe is pretty, but eqipped with a highly intermediating system that only lets you look at one page at a time. Message to brain-dead info delivery services: the Net is a place. It's as vast and free as the oceans, the desert, the clouds and the stars. It's ours. We made it for ourselves, for our species so hungry for knowledge and human contact. Go ahead and charge us for access to it. But don't screw it up by dumbing it down, or by giving it a browser interface that's any more commercial than the ones we're already forced to use. Gotta go. If any of ya'll are tempted to send me email, please wait until next Monday. I can only get it through this brain-dead interface (640x480, slow & dumb) and I already have over 500 messages waiting for when I get back. Arg. Bon webbage, everybody...
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