Tag Archives: Twitter

Something Spontaneous Sounding

He opened up his unnamed Evernote folder and flicked through the scraps he had collected. “One of these has to make a good tweet,” he said. Once he got to the end, he cycled back to the first one. During the fourth pass through the jotted ruins, he looked at the empty chair and sighed.

The Horror! The Horror!

Awoken from my dreadful slumber on the Devil’s Day, mine leering eyes did most suddenly happen upon the writhing, ranting, roaring masses of the web, violently screaming in frenzied fits of ecstasy broadcast in one hundred and forty characters or less at the sick injustice of Kim’s marital collapse, an act which shunned both sanity and sanctity, consuming the civilian concerns of a world engrossed in the Pagan traditions of change and revolution on that day.

I put my phone down and went back to bed for five minutes. But it wouldn’t go away.

iWake

The first thing I did when I walked in the room was make a bee-line towards her parents. I wasn’t prepared to face the brutal truth of the situation, so I embraced them instead. We kissed each others’ salty wet cheeks, and gave our best apologies, uncertain of what else to say.

As I was preparing myself to continue down the line and shake her older brother’s hand, I noticed a flash of light in the corner room. I turned around, and noticed Aaron kneeling over the casket with his iPhone out. I excused myself from the receiving line, and darted over to him, lifting him up by the shoulder pads in his suit jacket.

“What the hell are you doing?” I hissed through gritted teeth.

“What?” he replied, dusting off his jacket. “I was taking a TwitPic of the corpse. You know, just in case like, people couldn’t be here, and they wanted to see, maybe say some prayers at home. You gotta embrace the technology, man. Even in a funeral home. It’s no longer a local culture, you know?”

I refused to justify this with a response, and instead returned to my place in line, offering my condolences to her brother, and sharing lighthearted, humorous memories from the time we lived together. We laughed, however gingerly, as we reluctantly celebrated a life that had left us too soon.

Aaron, meanwhile, stayed focused on his phone. I shifted my position in an attempt to welcome him into the circle and encourage him to join in the conversation, but everyone grieves in different ways. “Whoa — did you know this place has a FourSquare deal?” he said, without turning his attention from the screen. “15% off your bill every 3rd check-in!” I excused myself from the rest of the group, and dragged Aaron away with him. He hardly even noticed, instead allowing himself to be moved with minimal force, until finally, he dug his feet into the ground. “Oh…” he said, letting the word hang and reverberate from his mouth. “She’s the FourSquare Mayor of her own wake. I guess that makes sense, I just…wow. I never thought about that. Do you think it would be rude to steal the mayorship? I mean, if I check in tomorrow at the funeral, I’ll have it, but I don’t want to like, hog the spotlight or —”

Without warning, I snatched the cellphone from his hands, shut it off, and put it in my pocket. “Get it together, and pay your respects,” I told him, and made my way towards the bathroom. The Men’s Room door opened up into the larger hall, so I carefully shut the door behind me, trying my hardest not to disturb the other mourners or even alert them to my presence. For some reason, urinating at a wake always seemed rude to me.

Unfortunately, it seemed that I had forgotten to lock the door, and as every guy knows, it’s nearly impossible to stop once you start letting it go. No sooner had I started then another guest opened the door without a knock — leaving me exposed with penis in hand to the rest of the wake. Under normal circumstances, I think she would have appreciated the embarrassment, or at least gotten a kick out of it, but it was difficult to explain that to her grieving parents.

Productivity

9-ish a.m. – I arrive at work
and the first thing I do is check Facebook,
where I’m having a “respectful” argument
about the “Ground Zero Mosque.” On Twitter,
Tila Tequila’s accused an ex-boyfriend
of nearly choking her to death.  Google

News has nothing about it. But Google
Images shows Tequila hard at work
at being naked. And what ex-boyfriend?
Isn’t she gay? Meanwhile, back on Facebook,
I’ve posted a quote from Ebert’s Twitter
page about Mt. Rushmore. My argument

being – just for the sake of argument –
WE defaced the Sioux’s “sacred space.” Google
it if you don’t believe me. My Twitter
following has plunged. I guess I don’t work
as hard to make “friends” as I do on Facebook.
I mean, I’ve even got some ex-boyfriends

on my Friends List, even the ex-boyfriend
who dumped me on my birthday. No argument –
he gave me a card first. It’s okay. Facebook
is one big happy family. But Google
is great for schadenfreude at work.
I wish more people I know had Twitter

pages. Because I have found that Twitter
is just like middle school, where ex-boyfriends
get blocked by ex-girlfriends, and everyone works
really hard to be clever, and some arguments
take up your whole feed. It’s better than Google
if you’re keeping track of who’s dead. Facebook

is good for that, too. Speaking of Facebook,
someone who unfollowed me on Twitter
is still my friend there. Weird. Time to Google
for mean girls from high school and ex-boyfriends.
Are they fat? I make a good argument
for restricting internet at work.

By work’s end, I’m satisfied that at least on Facebook,
I’ve won the argument. I gained two followers on Twitter,
and found one fat ex-boyfriend, with many thanks to Google.