Replicating one's own patterns in life online is not hard. The little excesses creep in. The time consuming guilty pleasure gets too much. Purpose and meaning often elude one. Having worked on a considerable project to only a halfway point this summer, the ennui of one's own thoughts, however inspired, even become a stale hunk of reality. This time the catharsis came as Sven Stoop. 
Sven's a balding middle age guy fighting the idea of a real gut and perfectly happy wearing black socks with shorts. Glasses and goatee complete the whole Gen_X turns forty thing. It's not HalfLife, but that's what I kept calling the online first person role playing phenom known as Second Life. It's basically anonymous 3D chatting with the idea that your virtual world can make your real world seem better. But if no one ever comments on your blog, why not ? Otherwise you have to go out or join organizations to interact with people. Well old Sven met a chickie right off the bat in the Ron Paul room. Search 'libertarian', teleport. She was impressed how far I had come in my first ten minutes.
