I started out needing an out from my ordinary writing, which has to be much more restrictive than my mind, fingers, and spirit desire. Second Life seemed like a place to create a role that was me, but not me, and do the things that are me, and not me. It allowed me to speculate on philosophy of existence, and spurred my writing.
However, it hasn't for some time, partially because fewer and fewer interesting people are entering, and more and more it is a grind of a few places and pleasures. New technology and another wave of improvements might change this, but from what I have seen, probably not. M can be rereplaced by P but that's not the root of the problem. Second Life is caught: it is hard to be yourself, and even harder not to be. Flashes of the real person glimmer, and fade. That which was out of reach years ago, is still out of reach. Second Life has gone through its cycle and is fading, as I felt it would even as I first pushed through.
However, the same topics interest me, and still are unfulfilled in ordinary life. The same problem with writing about sex as a spiritual activity that Second Life had, is general. While virtual worlds are more visible in how people enact and expose their libido, the problems are the same. The desires are the same, only the navigation of them changes.
For the same reason there is a need to write fiction. Two novels stare back at me, unfinished, a bed unmade, creates a troubled sleep.
So later this month I will redo this blog, and see if there's light at the end of this particular tunnel. The world is still the world, we are still sexual beings, and there is a great mass of sexism to cut through, there is a great mass of racism to cut through. Consider this list of most beautiful women. All are white, except two, who are white with enough color. No Latinas, no Asians, no dark Africans. Out of 3 billion women in the world, 2.5 billion do not qualify for their taste. Those of us who don't, aren't oblivious to this message.