•February 29, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Today, I cut the cord.  I deactivated myself from the perpetual Black Hole that is Facebook.  Although I know this is only temporary, it feels good.  Facebook is a horribly addicting service in my life.  I find it to be my biggest addiction in life: more so than gibs, alcohol or Phish.

Fat gaggers of Facebook all day

Facebook was originally something I never wanted to use.  I can remember back in the Fall of 2006 when I first made my account, I was pretty insulting of the whole social media thing which now has Planet Earth by the balls for the foreseeable eternity.  This was a time when Myspace was king and the overall tackiness of the whole system really turned me off.  Facebook seemed a little cleaner, didn’t start playing an annoying song when I went to someone’s page, didn’t have some obnoxious skin plastered all over the background and self-repeating 12 times over & seemed not too involved.

Even still, I hated it.  My girlfriend at the time would always post cute girlfriend things to my wall and get annoyed when I didn’t respond.  Bottom line was that I wasn’t even checking the thing, I had my own life outside of it all.  Then came the chat takeover when we all stopped using AIM.  “Okay, now I have a reason to be on here.  I still don’t like this Facebook, but I’ll deal…”

Then once my relationship was over I realized, “Oh shit.  Well, if I’m going to be single, this is probably something I should use”.  So I immersed myself more into Facebook.  I started thinking, “Hey this ‘aint so bad.” as there was a sheep-ish comfort that came along with the growing social acceptance of Facebook.  I then started a page for my radio show, started commenting on people’s updates more, “liked” some pages, etc.

Eventually Facebook got real boring.  This is where trolling saved the experience for me.  Not taking Facebook as serious as everyone else really made the joint more enjoyable.  I started noticing just how many really took the Internet way too serious.  Then there was that Fall where Facebook bombing ran rampant.  Leave your account open, be subjected to worldwide humiliation and ridicule.  But alas, that was only fun for so long too.

See ya around, Facebook.

Now I’m just sick of the whole thing.  There’s still people on the service who I don’t like seeing.  However, to avoid 8,000 text messages of, “Why did you delete me from Facebook?!”  I choose to not “delete” them as “friends” and hope to just ignore them.  There’s also a handful of people who I wish I could still communicate with, who choose not to communicate with me, or can’t due to certain circumstances.  Seeing your faces on Facebook only serve as a sad reminder as to why we no long talk and that bums me out.  I’d rather not be subjected to that.

I will miss the hilarious statuses, witty comments from the Huckleberry Freakbox’s of the world and the like, but I’m dipping out for a bit.  More time to focus on reading and writing for this blog.

P.S. – I know.  Cool story, bro.

Curving the flats

•February 20, 2012 • 1 Comment

For the second day in a row now, I’ve awaken from a stellar dream and was lucky enough to have the images and memories still lingering in my head when I hit the keyboard this morning.  Unlike yesterday’s dream, which I ended up making a poem loosely based around, today’s dream was more to the point.  After thinking about this dream, it brought me to the topic of today’s blog.

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Christopher Columbus: A bigger scumbag than perviously thought…

•February 19, 2012 • 1 Comment

I’ve always been a massive fan of history, especially U.S. history, so it was a god-send when recently I was turned on to Howard Zinn’s A People’s History of the United States.  In the book, Zinn tells the tale of how our country came to be not through the normal lens of your average classroom history book, but really delving into topics often left off those textbook pages.  The first portion of the read, naturally, recounts the tale of how Christopher Columbus found the Bahamas…err America…the West Indies…Asia…okay, really just the Bahamas, sorry to spoil Santa Claus for you.

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Mornings on 54 Cabot Street

•February 19, 2012 • Leave a Comment

he stares at the clock above his bed
a quarter life, already dead
a college degree sits above his mantle
but his empty bed is too much to handle

girls come on scene by scene
and just as quick, they’re off the screen
except for one, who stuck around
but now she’s neither lost nor found

just a different life, a different chapter
he turns the page, but sometimes after
he’ll turn it back and reflect upon
the times elapsed for which he longs

her golden face inside his dreams
no matter how many years it seems
the haunt won’t shake, the feeling can’t fade
that insurmountable female shade

gives way to morning and the day’s anew
he glances up, at the clock askew
and crawls back deep into pillow seams
where he can script his life in dreams