As the 70’s neared the end of its run and the powdery, white smog of the 80’s hung in the horizon, I was happy with taking walks, snapping pictures with my Kodak Instamatic, listening to music, making mix-tapes, writing, and recording myself performing skits a portable cassette tape-deck.
Being a creative, loner-weirdo was kinda my trademark.
Thanks to the invention of social media, I’m still doing the same goddamned things I was doing 40 years ago. The Internet: For creative, loner-weirdos, by creative loner weirdos. And exhibitionist-introverts everywhere united in their rejoicing. Alone, in a publicly private display of passive enthusiasm.
I am really into compound-words, aren’t I?
If there were an Internet when I was a teenager, I feel certain I would have fallen for some predator’s scam, run away from home, and gotten myself abducted & murdered. I mean, let’s face it – I fit the profile. Troubled home life, daddy-issues, molested, hormonal, depressed, manic, compulsive… and by the time I was 15, I was pretty drunk & slutty a lot. Promise to get me the hell out of Pittsburgh and away from my fucked up parents, and I would have done anything you asked. I would have been an Internet-killer’s dream come true.
So, I’m grateful that never happened.
As a pragmatic person, I hate to waste anything, especially my time. That becomes exponentially more profound with each passing year. I consider “wasting my time” to be anything I’m forced to do, isn’t fun, or makes me uncomfortable. So basically, if I’m not happy doing whatever I happen to be doing, it’s a waste of time. And I don’t like to waste my time. I think of it as trying to live how other mammals might live. A dolphins don’t have to waste her time listening to her brother-in-law tell some mind-numbing boring story about straw. And elephant would never be expected to send mashed potatoes to Georgia through the U.S. Postal service. A bonobo wouldn’t continue a conversation with a woman who was too emotionally wrought with guilt at the thought of spaying a pregnant cat. These things are all wastes of time and why should anyone willfully subject themselves to such nonsense. These are all reasons I would rather be home alone, in the privacy of my Internet access, willfully avoiding the public while still being a part of it. Still taking walks, snapping pictures, listening to music, making playlists, writing, and recording myself performing skits on my computer-phone.
Humans are strange creatures; such a needy, greedy, and invasive species.
Even me.
1988. “Oh, you need a live, topless model to practice your photography? Well, I mean, I hardly know you, but this seems legit. As long as it’s artsy & tasteful, what could go wrong?”
Man I was dumb.
