> WILD-e is an interactive journal, a creative space where teachers and
> learners can write about their experiences. It is a timeless,
> continuously evolving catalog of developments, realizations and
> insights so you can either check in regularly to watch as its realms
> grow and as it grows more realms or you can leave it for a
> while and then come back later. WILD-e will grow from cooperative
> participation and so will you.
We believe in the interconnectedness of all things.
http://www.wild-e.org/WILD-e/pages/interconnectedness.html
> Our exploratory steps form the links.
> We're the dotted lines on the map.
> We link one place to another.
> We make the connections between places...
> ...by describing our journeys
> ...and by expressing the connections
> ...we realize were already there
> ...just waiting for us to see them.
>
> So we become the living connections
> ...between everything and everywhere
> ...just by describing our experiences,
> ...just by describing what's already there.
> And just as one step leads to another
> ...so making one connection
> ...will lead us to the next one.
>
> When we finally see all the interconnections...
> then all things are interconnected for us.
>
> ...A bit tiring on the brain sometimes, but then, what else is the
> whole brain for?
To explore some interconnections try out The Maze
http://www.wild-e.org/WILD-e/pages/interactive/scripts/maze.pl
> "What inspires me is a spontaneous method of irrational knowledge
> founded on the critical interpretive association of the delirious
> phenomena." -- Salvador Dali
The principles of WILD-e sound decidedly FoRKian:
http://www.wild-e.org/WILD-e/pages/Principles.html
And WILD-e's "Pub" is a Seinfeldian/Baudrilliardian discussion of
nothing/everything:
http://www.wild-e.org/WILD-e/pages/interactive/scripts/pub.pl
The only thing that gives me pause is that, like my own web pages, most
of the information there has not been updated in a great long while.
It's interesting to note that, 4 Years Minus 2 Days from the original
FoRKpost
http://www.xent.com/FoRK-archive/spring96/0000.html
that there is more traffic and discussion on a wider variety of topics
here than it seems like there has ever been -- it's as if Friends of
Rohit Khare becomes stronger the more seasoned it gets. I guess on
Sunday we'll have to produce a suitably nostalgic FoRK Four-Year
Anniversary Post as a precelebration for the Y2K FoRKcon in North
Carolina next week...
Happy holidays, everyone!
I woke up this mornin',
Then I went back to bed.
Said I woke up this mornin',
Then I went right back to bed.
Got a funny kinda feelin',
Like I got broken glass in my underwear,
And a herd of wild pigs is tryin' to chew off my head.
You know what I'm sayin'?
Well, I ain't got no money,
I'm just walkin' down the road.
Said I ain't got no money, honey,
So I'm just walkin' down this lonely old road.
Well, I wish I could get me some money,
But I forgot my automated teller code.
I was born in a paper sack, in the bottom of a sewer.
I had to eat dirt clods for breakfast, my family was so poor,
My daddy was a waitress, my mama sold bathroom tile.
My brothers and sisters all hated me,'cause I was an only child.
I got the blues so bad.
Kinda wish I was dead.
Maybe I'll blow my brains out, mama.
Or maybe I'll, yeah, maybe I'll just go bowlin' instead.
I'm just a no-good, scum-sucking, nose-picking, boot-licking,
snivelling, grovelling worthless hunk of slime.
Nothin' but a low-down, beer-bellied, bone-headed, pigeon-toed,
turkey-necked, weasel-faced worthless hunk of slime.
I guess I've got a pretty low self-image,
maybe it's a chemical imbalance or something.
I should probably go and see a doctor about it when I've got the time.
Guitar!
Aw, make it talk, son, make it talk.
(guitar solo)
Okay, now make it shut up.
Plagues and famine and pestilence always seem to get me down.
I always feel so miserable whenever I'm around.
I wish somebody would come along, stick a pitchfork through my brain.
I'd flush myself right down the toilet, but I'd just clog up the drain.
I got the blues so bad,
Kinda wish I was dead.
Maybe I'll blow my brains out, mama,
Or maybe I'll go bowling.
Or I just might go bowling.
Maybe I'll just rent some shoes and go bowling.
Maybe I'll join a league, enter a tournament,
put on a stupid-lookin' shirt and go bowling,
Instead.
-- Weird Al Yankovic, "Generic Blues"