After the ridiculous lovefest that was yesterday’s post, I feel I owe everyone a round of snark. So we set forth into the anticlimactic linkfest that was Twitter.
Everyone was talking about the Twitter. I read the Wired article and made a noise that sounded very much like “Pleh.” I read the New York Times article and felt justified in my snobbery (bless you, NY Times, for indulging my superiority complex). And then I got to blogging, and it all went to hell in a handbasket. James and Harry were talking about giving in to the Twitter. Naomi was talking about how NOT to use Twitter, and when Naomi lays down a gauntlet like that, you are honor-bound to pick it up and smite her briskly across the face with it. In the most loving way possible.
The point is, while I may not be a sucker for the printed media, I am evidently easily persuaded by the digital bloggery. Twitter became that guy in your class who you hadn’t thought was cute until you realized everyone else had a crush on him. I caved. To Twitter I went.
In the Beginning
All was sweetness and light. Twitter said delightfully funny things, it introduced me to all the people it knew. We talked for ages, in little 140-letter vignettes. The Twitter cared about my business and helped promote my blog – so sweet. The Twitter wrote me haikus. It is possible this is because the Twitter was incapable of sonnets, but I was not to be troubled by such trifles. I was enamored. I braided daisies into crowns and sang love songs, people. The Twitter was so good to me.
Then There Was Turmoil
Twitter stopped communicating with me. Someone would send me a message and three minutes later I’d get it. I would find myself with only part of a haiku that I was sure had a preceding part, but I couldn’t find it, and Twitter couldn’t find it, and the Tweet ‘and then fell off a snow bank’ really needs an introduction. I realized very suddenly that Twitter possibly had a drug problem, or was off its medication. I would have been concerned, but the other problem was that I was getting tired of the Twitter. Its conversation had ceased to sparkle. It was repeating stories it had told on our first date. It was boring me to tears.
Then There Was Smiting.
Twitter started to boot me randomly out of the house. Other people too. The Tweet galaxy was all full of people calling into the blackness. “Hello! Are you there? I’m not there. I’m here.” We began to sound like bad Emily Dickenson imitators. “I’m Tweeting – in the Twhirl. Are you – Tweeting here – like me? Are we both – fucked – and speaking – to no one? – Stupid Twitter. I – want bacon.” Then Twitter got all passive-aggressive decided it couldn’t handle my shenanigans and wiped all my old Tweets, which was really just uncalled for. It started to play games with my head, and then I would yell, and it would go off and sulk and not talk to me for days, and we continued in this destructive cycle, neither of us willing to admit that we were just not meant to be. No we were not.
Then There Was the Flood.
I dumped the Twitter. We had a lovely little affair, but it was just one of those things. Just one of those nights. Just one of those magic flights. And now I’ve begun to quote Cole Porter, which just goes to show how damaging this relationship was. It hurts a little still. Inside.
I may sometimes go back to the Twitter, but it will only be to use it shamelessly for blog promotion. Yes, it’s cruel to do to an old flame, especially when you know it secretly still wants you, and you know perfectly well it can’t have you back. That is just the way it is, though.
On another note: Heading over to the Twitter randomly for the first time in about a week, I discovered that James does not, apparently, love me every day. Why, James? How can this be so? What day was ever a wrong one with me?
That’s the other thing about Twitter. It’ll rat you out. Is it any wonder I dumped it?
Subscribe. Lambasting to be continued.