Does anyone read anymore?
I mean, does anyone pick up a book? Write a letter? Have real conversations?
I bought a cellphone a couple of years ago, which means that I no longer actually talk to people on the phone. I send text messages. I speak in text. I learned this new language because when I did not join the collective I got left behind.
I found I was living in a ghost town and it was creepy.
What made it worse was when I figured out where everyone went:
They all went to live inside a five inch long piece of plastic where they have actually created lives.
And from what I’ve seen in the headlines, they even have sex on them. Not like in the old days with the 900 numbers that connected you to a Brandy or Candy ( come on guys, REALLY? ) for five dollars a minute.
And when people lose their phones, well, I’ve seen people loose their children in airports and malls and stress out less. Really. Someone walks off with the baby…its ” Oh my God, Oh my God ” Lose the phone and if it’s not back in their hand in five seconds they’re either keeling over with full on heart failure or getting ready to take a swan dive on the tallest building they can find.
I miss blogging- but I’ve noticed that if I post a picture of talking cats or some trite little thing that came off of a paper place mat- those things get read. I write something, not so much. I’m no King Or Dickens or M.R. James, but when I write that’s me. My thoughts, my feelings. I thought people trolled Facebook because it was a like a sneaky way to get into someone’s head.
When I put out my writing, the OPEN sign is in the window, the Welcome mat is in front of the door and the dog big dog is in the back yard.
Here’s the deal.
The stuff I put on my Facebook page started out as a joke.
I read ( IN A MAGAZINE…A PAPER ONE ) that anything you put on the internet will live for ever.
So, I decided it was be super funny to fill the web with as much Jack-Assery as possible- take that Future Archeologists!
But I miss the old days and I’m afraid of the new ones ahead.
So I’m writing again.
Given the choice I’d rather leave my writing behind and have people guess what made me tick or who I was based on that then to have someone find my phone look at it and say…
” Here she is. “