Twitting

I have joined. Twitter would have me add "joined an online network" or perhaps even "an online conversation," and I don't know why I did.

I do know. That was a lie. I want attention. Feedback, praise and intangible love.

But I don't want to work for it. 500 people can join twitter and do nothing to gain large fandom. Everyone else seems to need to hustle for it.

Do I find someone similarly aligned and @ them? Say something controversial? How do I increase myself? It's all cheesy right?

Facebook is more innocent. I'm friending you so I can look at your pictures late LATE at night. Perfectly harmless. Twitter is asking people to listen to your words. Constantly. Follow my life. Early Truman show. My thoughts and activities are worthy of you stopping the act of living your life, to see how I am living mine. Whatever you're doing is not as important as a shortened, poorly summarized version of my doings or musings. Freeze and take in the greatness that is me.

Also curiosity. How do people express themselves in this fashion. Fair enough. Glimpse into what they read, what they respond to and how they go about their days. Time stamp of those people.

How much to disclose.

Already a desire to splinter myself into different twitter personalities for... protection. Sports, sex, film. Isolate people's interest and shield myself from side curiosities.

Inception

Blind and squawking I come to you dear internet. Fuck there are a lot of blogs. Lot of people chipping waiting for someone to fly back and nourish them.

And why? Gold stars of school? Motherly hug? Pat on the ass from coach?

Venture out to the cold dark forest of the internet seeking a bit of redemption, positive feedback to get us through the day. We come to learn from each other's experience, see the world from another perspective, TK, but mostly to bitch. Our species most predominant trait. Chief activity. We have evolved into dissatisfied animals, the only on this Earth. We have conquered and eliminate predators and TK and now we're not happy with what we have.

Electronic confession booth. Well I too have not done right. Wish to be judged. As long as it will bring a response. Cast me down and shun me if only to know you still see me out there. Special enough to punish.

Ask you — who do not exist — to pay attention, to split your already burdened time on me. I'll give nothing back.