Dear Dust

Almost five years ago I started a literary website. My initial expectations were, frankly, minimal. It was  a scrawny and unattractive little thing at first, traipsing around the Net in a shoddy brown dress. Just a few contributors, no real direction, no idea how to wear its makeup. But it has really blossomed. Five long, hot years later? Now it knows how to work an IP frock. Wear a string of embedded pearls. Shake it for the pixelverse. My little site has become a lithe, glowing thoroughbred. She’s one of the sauciest destinations around, literary or otherwise. She has a huge stable of users and fans and an unbelievably high quality of content. Actually, if I’m being truthful with myself, I think I’m a little bit in love with her content. The way her page breaks move and flow. The way she downloads and buffers. Her short, supple fonts and nubile sans-serif bolds.

So what does this mean? Lord only knows. But there’s one thing for certain, and it’s messing with my head:

Dust, what happens when you wake up one morning and realize you desperately want to fuck your website?

I really, really need an answer.

Thanks,

Braf Listif

Dear Braf

Oh, I understand completely. The good news is that your lust for your site is probably well-warranted. Nothing is more coquettish than long, undulating strings of clean ASP code that come together in a single tight package of subscription-free news and entertainment. I’ve seen just this sort of binary seduction rumored across the bandwidth–from dispirit servers, lonely chat rooms, and as the painful rash left behind by seemingly innocuous enhancement downloads. It is easy to imagine your site’s allure–the cache of wavy hair, a propagation shaped like an ebony cigarette holder, red velvet LAN-gloves and an optimized miniskirt hiked halfway up to her meta tag. Yes, Braf, as your site reclines on its Georgia divan, one delicate columnar arm draped over her head, absolutely bursting with the naked sexuality that is inherent in all quality random prose and stable release, it’s no wonder that you’ve fallen into an administrative K-hole of want.

Okay, but here’s the bad news:

You cannot fuck your site.

Your site can do what she pleases with you, but you are the passive participant in this relationship, no matter how many hours you’ve devoted to her every whim. The internet, you see, is not patriarchal. The great untold secret of this generation is that cyberspace is Gaia, and you are its humble man-servant. Its human sub-domain. Within this ravishing Trojan Horse is a much smaller horse. Actually, a horsey. Made of plastic and painted bright pink and bouncing on a spring. And you, Braf, are riding it. While your shareware mommy waits impatiently. I hope you have plenty of quarters.

At HTML mistress is a cruel mistress indeed.

You may only be paying per click, but you’re still paying in the long run.

I advise you to quietly persist in the fulfillment of your role as administrative cabin boy and neutered courtesan. The site will continue to improve, you will be paralyzed with desire, and that is as it should be.

Praise Gaia.

In the meantime, you can probably work off some steam by fucking your cellphone.

Just don’t forget to download the Lambskin 2.0 app.

Most Sincerely,

The Dust

TAGS: , ,

J. ANGELUS DUST is not much interested in biography. J. Angelus Dust wants to know where it hurts.

23 responses to “TNB at 5: “Site Allure””

  1. Quincy Moore says:

    Dear Braf,

    I think your desire for, nay, obsession with a website is warranted. But beware, in this case it is not but one site. It is a site for many, by many, pleasing many appetites at once.

    I’d say you and Caligula have a fair amount in common.

    So as long as you’re open-minded about such over-familiarity with so many different tastes, I think you’ll have a joyous romp through this Dionysian e-orgy. Just remember that the Maenads were known for ripping people apart in their ecstasy.

    Dear Dust,

    As usual, you’re on the e-money. This is some hot 2.0 love, right here.

  2. Zuu Zuu Pitts says:

    I think it’s perfectly fine to want to fuck a website. After all, people do plenty worse, don’t they?
    Don’t they?

  3. Oh it’s a sexy website… I understand your lust. Just be careful and don’t get a virus.

    • Irene Zion says:

      Oh! I forgot the strange story about your name!
      I have to read it again, David.
      The strangest things happen to you.

  4. Irwin D. James says:

    TNB is hotter than a Krakatoa sclae sexplosion of wet creamy hotness.

    I like to get the site up and just dock my USB stick as far as it’ll go. If the back of my laptop had a USB port I’d totally… um…anyway…

    • I don’t think your new picture’s sufficiently British.

      • Irene Zion says:

        Well, you don’t look obviously British, either.
        At least James has a tea cup.
        How about a pipe?

        • Irwin D. James says:

          I keep being told that I look either Chinese or Mexican.

        • Hello Irene! Why didn’t I see this?

          My comment was meant to be sarcastic – a standard form of communication for us Britishes. James’ pic is extremely British – not only does he have a Union Jack mug full of brown tea, he’s also performing a traditional British gesture, which (I think) actually did originate in one of our many conflicts with the French.

          Is your Gmail working? I’ve received a few mails from you but they’ve been all mashed up. And I’ve yet to thank you properly for the stack of postcards!

        • Irene Zion says:

          I knew that, Steve, I was just making trouble.
          What gesture is James performing? I don’t recognize it, perhaps because it’s too small to see.

          (I still feel bad about the one from Verdun. Pretty depressing post card, right? I don’t know what I was thinking at the time.)

        • The trenches? Not depressing at all! I mean, we tend to forget that all those castles and fancy buildings are relics of a horrible oppressive heirarchical feudal etc. culture – the trenches are simply a more explicit reminder of a similar thing. It’s nice to see them slowly returning to a natural state.

          The gesture: http://www.flickr.com/photos/frazernash/1484437115/

        • I’m not actually gesturing, I’m holding a cricket ball. True story.

        • Irene Zion says:

          I guess I’m projecting, then. I found it weighed on my mind long after I left the site of the trenches in Verdun. I feel it now, just thinking about it.

          James, were you holding the cricket ball with an offensive gesture?
          Way to kill two birds with one stone.

        • My God, it’s true! You can just see James’ ball! I wonder whether he rubs it on his trousers.

        • Irene— I was holding the cricket ball, but the gesture is coincidental. It just so happens that my rather unorthodox off-seam spin grip on the ball requires the spreading of those two fingers. So it’s not really a crude gesture, although it’s not a bowling method condoned by polite cricketing society.

          Steve— I have, the few times I’ve used it for cricket rather than something to fondle with idle hands… That sounds worse than it’s meant to. I keep in the drawer about 30cm from my laptop. When I get bored I take it out and play with it… NO! That sounds even worse than the first one…

  5. Don Mitchell says:

    Braf should leave his own site alone.

    It’s all about net neutrality. No one will mind if he roams, or roves, or gets his IVP6 rocks off elsewhere.

    He should take his webkit to site that’s better-defined as a portal, wholly exposes its I/O kit, and Flashes appropriately. Then loose some torrents upon it.

  6. dwoz says:

    You could always use port 8080, a common back door entrance to insert your XHTTPRequestObject.

    It can be problematic to successfully parse her JSON response, but then again, what woman doesn’t reply in code instead of cleartext?

    The real problem that I see is that for an admin/Svengali, it’s like inseminating fish in a barrel. The experience will not be satisfying because you already know how the API will respond, having done most of the formative work yourself.

    This letter did bring something home to me though…a new technique for evaluating web presence work: “if this website was a woman, would I want to fuck her?” (gender bend as appropriate for your personal preferences)

  7. Doe Jaley says:

    You might not be able to fuck your web site, but there’s nothing stopping you from getting your wank on while listening to the podcasts. Can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat alone late at night, bringing myself to climax while listening to Uche rap about a squirrel…

    • Kiepoo says:

      Cakecup,
      This is the most disturbing comment in the history of commenting. “Get your wank on..” Ah ha aha ha!!
      Love,
      Kiepoo.

  8. Glory-H says:

    What a relief to read Braf’s letter. I feared I was the only one whose finger file contained mostly gravatars and who read Ask The Dust like it was Penthouse Letters.

    It’s soothing to know I’m not alone.

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