Face Book Angst
So I get this note or ping, or wall scribble or whatever in my email account through Face Book from a guy who was a friend in Junior High. I’ve always liked him and I was glad to hear his life is going well. He gave me just a quick rundown of the last 20 years and asked why it took me so long to “friend” him. This is my response.
Ben,
Please don’t take my sad inability to get my shit in gear as a statement of my regard for you. In fact I like you very much and was stoked to hear from you. Currently my two issues are that my home computer has been dead for 6 months and so I can only face book at work. This is an activity frowned on my employers, who as a rule suck in biblical proportions but in this case I get their point. The second issue and this cannot be underestimated for the pain in the ass it is, I am a Tecnotard.
nlike a Luddite who hates any form of technological advancement and would be happiest if we all still lived caves and were forced to scrape the skins of the animals for our clothes with nothing but our teeth and a “Can Do” attitude, a tecnotard loves tec, but has the unhappy disability of not getting it at all. I love cool gadgets! and I long to let my fingers diddel the keyboard of a computer/ i anything with the sublime confidence of Mozart composing a birthday piece for a beloved mistress while swilling champagne, in the nude, from her pink satin slipper. Alas I am more technologically a lined to a 12 thumbed Chimpanzee doing needle point in a high wind.
Face book in particular has been an angry God who promises joyous reunions with long lost friends yet has mostly delivered constant pokings with sharp sticks wielded by people I’ve been avoiding for decades. Some of whom I’ve slept with.
o please know that I am glad to hear from you. That none of your successes are a shock to me because I’ve always thought you brilliant, talented and funny. And I hope when you are in town with your Lovely girl that you will at least have a drink with me.
s to your questions about my welfare…
Me, I’m fine. I work for a toy company, which is not as much fun as you would hope. I live in Oakland by the lake in a huge dilapidated, ramshackle house that I share with a house mate who is another artist, two cats who still don’t do dishes and my love life is best described as the seventh ring of Hell, but I own a nice little bar and Inn there so it’s not so bad, lots of locals….
Good to hear from you, write me any time,
J