Referer (Sic) Logs (1)

So the way to start things is in the middle, like you’re planted down in the middle of a conversation, or so I’ve heard. It would be me, though, that conversations would be a poor sample of my daily existence, and really, the story is mostly me alone in my room, where I spend most of my time — that’s a much better sample, crouched in front of a monitor, checking the referer (sic) logs of my websites. I misspell it on purpose, by the way; it’s actually misspelled in the specification, something that slipped through the digital cracks by way of all too human butterfingers, and now everyone has to use it. We make do, I suppose. But I digress, even if it’s a necessary digression — yes, the implications of the thing, something is meant by it, which we’ll probably find out at some point — back to the middle, it’s a lot like the beginning and the end: me in front of my computer, clicking behind the scenes of the internet, though not so very far. Seeing how many people visited my sites, and where they’re supposedly from (both the website where they located the link that led there, and the location physically where their internet service provider say they’re operating from). Yes, I know. I have no life.

Despite my romance with solitude, however, there is a girl involved in all this. Yes, yes, I know — I should say “woman,” but it’s still boyfriend/girlfriend isn’t it? Or, who cares? She and I dated for the better part of a year, something like a year ago, and I thought that she was a real keeper, that one; never really figured out why it petered out like it did. So for that year, I was not by myself all the time, like I had been before, and like I became after. We would walk through the city streets, all around, holding hands — and she was not all alone, too, like maybe she sometimes was. And I introduced her to my websites some time in the middle of that year, and I don’t know why it was just then when I did — things happen when they want to happen, I guess, and some things are like they’re merely passing through us to get where they’re going. And when she went there, I checked in my referer logs to see the trail she made from one to another, like watching her from really high up as she walked through streets I had laid out. And I was happy, because even when I was here, alone, I was not alone.

(to be continued…)