As I may have already mentioned I just don’t get Twitter. Oh, sure, I don’t know how to use it, either; how to use #tags or even how to direct a tweet to a specific person. My single contribution to twitter so far has been a single tweet I did when I was so beyond drunk one evening that even clips of cats barking weren’t cutting it. I have no idea where it went; just, uhm, out there? Into twitterspace? Luckily for you, you can now see it because I’ve added my tweets to my sidebar, not because I intend to do any more but in order to show you how drunk I was; when I tell you that I wasn’t even being ironic, or attempting humour you’ll understand. I really was that drunk that I thought something had scrambled a photo of me and turned me into an egg.
But more importantly I just don’t get it. I get that the purpose – essentially – is to ‘tell people what you’re up to right now’ or some such soundbite. What I seriously don’t get is why the fuck I should be interested. I love my kids more than life itself and I can bore you stoopid just with tales of the times they pooed in a cab, but if Boogie started sending me random messages from school telling me that numeracy was, like, totally boring, or Poodle is kicking her under the table, I’d unfollow her before you could say I send you to school precisely so I don’t have to deal with this inane shit for at least 5 hours a day.
The BoogieMeister does send me random text messages throughout the day but only until I figure out how to, once again, block his number on my new phone.
I just can’t bring myself to be interested.
I have a long-standing – and quite inexplicable – crush on John Cusack (I also have a shorter-standing but less inexplicable crush on his sister, Joan; her mouth is fascinating, is it not?), but despite following him for about 6 months and checking out his tweets on an at least vageuly regular basis, he has yet to write a single fucking sentence that has, as a bare minimum, been worth the eyeball energy it took me to read it. Never mind fucking interesting.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not suggesting that John Cusack is somehow unique in being duller than a Bush family gathering. Far as I can see, he’s entirely within the same ballpark as everybody else tweeting about their breakfast burps and the amazing joke somebody managed to tell that was a bit funny.
But I’ve moved beyond it. I lamented it for a while (why? why?? WHY?? can’t I be normal??) but hey, I am who I am. But then I read today about twitterers (?) who are so ‘influential’ that they are starting to receive ‘goody bags’ from companies and marketing people and stuff and part of me – the crappiest, most venal part – wants some of that. Wants to be considered ‘influential’.
Shit, which feminist doesn’t?