Day One Without Facebook

Day One Without Facebook

9:10

Well, we have arrived. It’s Wednesday morning. Off into the abyss I go, into the darkness that is life without Facebook. Four or six weeks, I don’t know yet. I haven’t disconnected my account yet. I’m thinking about it. I’ve been threatening to leave since last week, and now is the day that I must do it. So I will.

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9:18

It’s done. Deactivated. They keep all your information, so it really doesn’t matter. I can come back right now, or in three months, and my page will be as I left it. Wonder how long they keep people’s pages?

It’s like people who die. That drives me nuts. Once they find out that somebody is dead, that page should go down. I remember a few years ago, I was like, hey wonder what happened to so and so? I clicked on my friend’s page to see that he was still on FB, didn’t read his timeline, and sent him a message asking him where he was living these days, and that I was thinking of driving up to Waco, that we should hang out.

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Anyway, a day or so later, I got a message from his ex-wife informing me that William had passed away several months before, that they were keeping his page up as a reminder of his life. Since then, every time somebody dies, I’ve noticed their FB page stays up. What the fuck? How am I suppose to remember who’s dead or not? Some of these people I only know peripherally.

In my case, I’m still alive, however if I die in the next few weeks, my page will gone forever.

Why was I on FB to start with? Mostly, networking. I have come to use FB as my contact list. I don’t have everybody’s phone number or even their email addresses. I can find just about anybody on FB, and when I’m looking for evasive writers to invite to some event that I’m putting together, FB is amazing.

However, I am a peeping tom. I’m guessing we all are, though I can’t talk for everybody else. I scroll down and read article after article, look at people’s personal pictures, read about their days good or bad… and it’s fucking addictive. And it’s like a great source of material. It’s almost like FB has become my second brain.

If I don’t remember how I know somebody, or what they look like. I can just look them up on FB. That’s good and bad. However, my brain is constantly on, I’ve noticed, in a way that is not healthy for me creatively. And that’s bad.

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Instead of thinking of my next poem, or wanting to put a thought down in my notebook that will potentially develop into another thought and then an essay or a poem or a story, I put the thought on my timeline in the hopes of getting lots of “likes” and reactions from my “friends.” In so doing, I basically kill the creative process at its roots. I don’t allow my mind to wander subconsciously. I stay absolutely conscious and aware of everything that I think and write. That seriously limits my creativity. Some of my best moments come from a state of semi-consciousness. Most of these thoughts are benign, and will lead nowhere, however some are exactly what I need. By constantly staying in a state of awareness, I severely cut a significant stage of the creative process.

9:42

I haven’t been gone ten minutes, and I’m already wanting to share articles online. This one article about Cher dropping the F-Bomb every few minutes dissing DT while introducing HRC to a fundraising crowd in Provincetown, Mass. There’s something special in my heart for 70 year old ladies who curse like sailors. I really like them. Seriously. And I think we should have more cursing 70 year old ladies walking around.

9:59

It’s like part of my nerve center has been cut off. I no longer know what the herd thinks. And fuck me, I’m gonna have to go out into the world and talk with people to find this shit out by myself, and by god, I’m only gonna get to find out information one person at a time, instead of a thousand people at a time per second.

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It hasn’t been an hour yet, and I think I might have to reconnect.

No. Nope. I can do this. Though it might be worse than quitting drinking for lent—I couldn’t give two shits about Catholicism, you know what I’m saying, it’s a manner of speaking, not of faith—I will endure! It’s the cyber-cleanse! Reconnect with the biomass, with the meat generated hardware, sometime referred to as human beings.

11:17

Walked the dog. Sent out a couple of emails to people for whom I don’t even know if that was the correct email address—trying to book Malvern Multiverse, the poetry reading I host every fourth Tuesday of the month for Malvern Books. How the hell am I suppose to get in touch with people without FB? Like I was saying, I walked the dog, I talked with a Austin City Utilities guy outside, and sat down with my neighbor for a few minutes, now I’m back inside my apartment, and I don’t know what to do with myself.

It’s like I have to either write something, or read something. I don’t own a television, I don’t have cable or anything, all I’ve got is my tiny laptop computer, and my even tinnier cell phone screen.

Instead of working on my next book, I am here on this blog, and I’m even thinking that I should be cleaning my apartment.

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My next book is a novella. I’ve never written anything longer than a short story. It’s about this loser-dude man-child in his late thirties who finds out he’s half space-alien, and though he’s spent his whole adult life getting high and working for his mom at his dead-end job that he can’t get fired from no matter how drunk he gets or how much he fucks up, he finds himself in the middle of a galactic crisis and everybody from planet Earth and the rest of the Universe wants him dead because somehow he’s the key to saving the human race & galactic peace. And that’s simply not a fair place to be for a dude who likes to get high all fucking day long.

(Pictured throughout this post are books I’ve either finished or read a few pages of in the last 24 hours. Truth be told, I started “A Confederacy of Dunces” a couple of days ago, and have been reading “This Lost World” off and on for a few weeks. However I’ve made much better headway in the last 24 hours. Today is Thursday as I edit this junk and am about to post it.)

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Oh, and if you could find it in your heart to buy my books, that would really help, and certainly make my day. Both my books are available online and locally at MALVERN BOOKS

I’m also selling The Rollin’ Chateau, PM me if you’re interested:

Craigslist

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