An Internet address; everyone has one now. It’s nothing special. I remember shelling out $72 to register my first .com, mind you I already had a ccTLD! And then there were the costs of renewing! It was all a tad expensive, thanks to the monopoly Network Solutions had on the .com and .net at the time.
I received a letter in the mail certifying my ownership of -.com. I was ecstatic. I owned a part of the Internet and I felt cool. Oddly enough, none of my friends had one, and we were living in the heart of Silicon Valley. I was cool!
Prices dropped and BAZAM! everyone and anything could purchase his own .com and .net for mere pennies. I sighed. Oh well, t’was to be expected.
Amities dot net is my Internet address. Like a thorn, it has dug itself into my flesh and now it’s stuck – forever. Several times I have attempted to run away from it, but I always return to it. It is a dirty habit, a secret vice; I can’t honestly give it up. It is me, it is who I am.
Amitiés, qu’est-ce que c’est? In Jr. High, as I read a fictitious postcard in my cahier, I came upon the ‘Word.’ Both aesthetically pleasing and euphonious, it jumped at me. But this was such a long time ago! I don’t recall ever being twelve; what does it feel to be twelve? Does it feel like it feels now? I honestly don’t know. And how do I feel now? I do remember taking my first examination in French. It was delightfully easy. Though I had failed to study, French opened up to me, revealing her secrets. I needn’t have struggled to convince her. Readily she came to me, like some penitant rushing to his confessor, thundering and puffing, anxious to tell me her deepest secrets. And I listened. And I redeemed.