Credit: Found On Internet

About twenty to thirty people in a sunny outdoor stage in a wooded glade.  Some finely crafted Goths are dancing Smily Raymaker takes the stage in Bryggen. Mum Raymaker claps her on. With whoops and shouts.

As a ballerina couple pirouette around each other, Smily Raymaker sings acoustically; she coughs and splutters apologising for her voice. She sounds great - the stream is very clear... have to turn it up a lot, as she was a a little quiet. Then when she moves the mic or something it is all way too loud.  The flaming wings I am wearing start to feel a bit gaudy for this gig. And my girlfriend is seriously underdressed for an acoustic folk gig. But that is… if this was First life.

Second Life is a weird place. After about two hours of me and girlfriend wandering around this place on our first interweb date. The need for geekdom and the absence of any episodes of Battlestar Galactica series 3 have driven me underground into that growing community of Lynden. When I signed up there was only 200,000 people here. Today there are 4 million users and 1 million in the last 24 hours.

The Press and advance in broadband have changed it. A lot busier last time I walked around here. Back then all I met was Domokun with a rather odd train of one dimensional Imperial Stormtroopers following it around. Now second life is like a giant Erotica Show where almost every person has a busty lingered female as an Avatar. And the range of bodies, clothes, houses is astounding. Although not for wannabee Angels. Amazing that the need to capitalise pervades in a place where it means nothing.

Nichola has has managed to get herself tarted up in a red cabaret outfit and I am a porcelin white freak with some black dragon tattoo’s and flaming wings.

Maybe I am the one overdressed for a low key bedroom folk performance. Smiley continues to aplogise and make excuses for her voice (Which is a good voice maybe ruined by the continuing apologies). She finishes on a good rendition of "House of the Rising Sun". To rapturous applause. I can’t help be jealous of the white griffin's nice feathery wings.