The tendancy to write extensively about the internet, whilst you're on the internet, writing for people on the internet, is very high, so I've been trying not to. It's really not terribly interesting. WIth the infinite number of distractions available online to waste your days, it's not surprise that when confronted with a blank slate and fuck all going on outside the four windows of your mind, and th four walls of your room, that you're bound to end up posting youtube links of people mistaking John Cusack for Kevin Spacey (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yXF8Lhvjqa8)
and then talking extensively about the world that surrounds you, rather than sits infront of you.
So I've tried to avoid it, but its like sitting in a fishtank with a giant child-eating squid in the corner, it's such a behemoth of life that probably now exists as a parallel to getting out of bed and drinking a coffee and walking around the park and digging the allotment, rather than a seedy alternative, that it's a waste of time me trying to to talk about it, even though it's boring. Posting links and clips and realplayer streams of bird noises and George Lamb interviews is like anonymous 'show and tell' classes where everybody tries to show off their best 'find'. Boring. But of course, it wouldn't be one my posts if it wasn't possible to tie it all nicely with self-indulgent silly string, and turn it all around so I'm discussing how much I hate everyone and my conviction that everyone hates me, so here goes. I have had experiences in my life, particularly when I was a student, and I guess this started at sixth form, where I've found myself taking an instant dislike to somebody, within the first minute of meeting them. Taking a first impression and running off with it for eternity, with the intention of never speaking or hearing from them, or even seeing their face ever again. This has been a largely successful operation, rarely are there sleepless nights where I pontificate if life would be much improved if the idiot who turned up to watch Eurovision with us in 2005 were my friday night pub allie, or the ignorant fuckface friend of the guy I knew in the third year who liked Nick Cave and promptly forgot my name were living in the room adjacent to mine. I really don't, and in honesty, the first time I've thought about this degenerate specimins of human sea slime was three minutes ago, trying to remember where I met them. It works both ways of course, I'm still friends with Grace and Gareth, and even though both of them are on the opposing sides of various seas and oceans for the majority of the time, both were people I decided within seconds as being people I wanted to know for the rest of my aching days.
The point is, of course, with the advent of social networking, is that the average Joe can now make his deductions on whether he's going to like or dislike somebody without even having to meet them. By which I don't mean going 'Oh he looks like a wanker" because someone turns up in the laundrette wearing an Oasis beanie hat and a lumberjack shirt, I mean evil, conniving, slighly creepy and maudlin factbuilding, so that you can just avoid having to meet certain people altogether. Take for instance, this girl that I currenl have listed as a 'friend' on Facebook. There was a ridiculously contrived reason as to how this utter non-event of a friendship came about, but basically, I've never met her, am never going to meet her, she doesn't know who I am or how she knows me, but I have confidence in my convictions that she is the worst person alive. This is purely made on selfish unfair judgements; She likes Ross Kemp in Afghanistan, has joined groups about supporting the troops in Basra, she likes "all music but queen have gotta be my faves" she spells 'with' with a 'v', and has pages of horrible poems and quotes that would Mother Teresa shit herself. In a word - awful. All her picture are of her binge drinking on a Friday night and photographing the evidence. And I don't feel any modicum of guit about any of this becuase that's what you're supposed to do, and that's basically what it's for. It's the eradication of blind socialising, and it's great. Again, it works both ways, because somebody could fabricate the perfect profile to suit your tastes, and for for it to be a sham. I've long since learned through a combination of 3 years as a student, and spending too much time on the internet, that people who like the same music as me are not essentially, going to be an interesting person. I used to think that if somebody had a good band on their t shirt, (and also used to hilariously argue that this was in any way better than wanting to form sexual relations with someone because they had a good haircut) but I've seen the errors of my ways. But even so, I still look at people I don't know on the internet, see that they like The Black Heart Procession and making mix CDs and assume they're going to be AMAZING, conveniently forgetting that I like The Black Heart Procession and making mix cds and I'm certainly not amazing. It's an awesome world of paradoxes, and I never want it to stop.
I'm assuming here that I'm not the only person who does this. Far from it, I'm going to assume to that you'll be hard pressed to find someone who doesn't do it. I imagine people do it to me. Few people look as much of a fool as I do when I'm in the library or in the pub or especially at work, and so if they're trawling through their friends archives of boring nights out or odious friends lists, they're probably going to come across me, and go "oh, there's that guy with the really badly dyed hair and eyeliner who's always in the Pen and Wig (or worse, out clubbing on his own) let's have a butchers at what makes him tick. And then, the next time we cross paths and don't even make eye contact, they've achieved enough of a personal profile of my interests, activities and general lifestyle that they can tick off the box that marks ever wanting to engage in a conversation with me in the future, and our lives continue. What a wonderful world. It's made the world smaller, rather than bigger, and yet another thrilling reason to read Steven Pinker books and listen to slowcore.
On a related note, this was the first 'first night' of Big Brother since the very first one that I didn't watch. I'm not making some sort of pathetic statement by saying this, that I'm somehow above the level of watching Big Brother, but I'm just trying to make a concious effort this year not to waste an hour a day for thirteen weeks, when I could use that time reading, or listening to music, or both. Unless of course, I fall in love, in which case I'll clamp my face to the table, tie my legs together and stick matchsticks in my eyes and lie motionless for three months watching every last minute if it means someone might want to hug me at the end of it.
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