com. creep
with the permission of a woman whose apt wit, psychic eyes and perchance to becoming a loud-but-loving party animal, I did it. following years of dick giving me the verbal nudge to join, of temptation to snoop, of wondering what so&so is up to or the events & company that are missed, I finally took a gander. Sucked into the void, (person after person, picture after picture) it dawned on me that I had done none of the things on the ever-growing things-to-do-before-2nd-semester list and I had basically lost an hour of my life because I am a creeeeep. not a very good feeling. so, despite satisfying a craving, it remains in stone: I will never, ever join facebook. ever.
they asked us at ckut why the dissociation with myspace and all things like it. I shied away from the answer lest be called hypocritical, but made the point that it was owned by fox and was thus the antichrist of democratic journalistic integrity. or something. the truth is that communication shouldn't be commodified.
& you know, it isn't even that, that isn't even the biggest beef (though it is up there); the issue is time. how many hours can be dedicated to creating, preserving, and creeping on such social networks? on maintaining the illusion of status or sociability? of uploading your life? of staying current? of signifying? & you know, I am not trying to be an elitist here. it is equally pathetic that a myspace account can be traced back to my name (operating for the sole reason of craving the brilliance of one mr. rob vilar from time to time, who makes me feel inspired and with purpose.) & you know, there are a good many people (whom I love, admire and respect incredibly) who follow their own sets of facebook rituals each day & good for them. & you know, maybe it is unique that a person can fall off the face of the earth with their clan, but feel just fine the next time they visit. perhaps it is old fashioned to enjoy a letter in the mail, an unexpected phone call, a random drop-in, a knock on a door. maybe it is because all these gestures are physical, as opposed to technological.
--- --- --- pause.
It is nearly 2009 and so am deleting 2007 from my intensive, collective, photo memory. I am going to commit them, little by little, to the blogosphere where they may live forever. Here are a couple faves (pt1) before they go:
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loco
they asked us at ckut why the dissociation with myspace and all things like it. I shied away from the answer lest be called hypocritical, but made the point that it was owned by fox and was thus the antichrist of democratic journalistic integrity. or something. the truth is that communication shouldn't be commodified.
& you know, it isn't even that, that isn't even the biggest beef (though it is up there); the issue is time. how many hours can be dedicated to creating, preserving, and creeping on such social networks? on maintaining the illusion of status or sociability? of uploading your life? of staying current? of signifying? & you know, I am not trying to be an elitist here. it is equally pathetic that a myspace account can be traced back to my name (operating for the sole reason of craving the brilliance of one mr. rob vilar from time to time, who makes me feel inspired and with purpose.) & you know, there are a good many people (whom I love, admire and respect incredibly) who follow their own sets of facebook rituals each day & good for them. & you know, maybe it is unique that a person can fall off the face of the earth with their clan, but feel just fine the next time they visit. perhaps it is old fashioned to enjoy a letter in the mail, an unexpected phone call, a random drop-in, a knock on a door. maybe it is because all these gestures are physical, as opposed to technological.
--- --- --- pause.
It is nearly 2009 and so am deleting 2007 from my intensive, collective, photo memory. I am going to commit them, little by little, to the blogosphere where they may live forever. Here are a couple faves (pt1) before they go:
-----
---
---
loco
posted by Loco at
5:16 PM
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