I hate myspace
It’s become apparent now that life’s forward march has destroyed the social networks of childhood and college, I can no longer avoid having a myspace page.
But i really don’t want one. I like the concept, but after blogging intermittently for a few years (though in obscurity), I find the myspace interface bewildering.Every time I want to search for a friend, I stumble about as name searches yeild thousands of “danny smith,” for instance; additional modifiers, though, yeild zero results.
It took me forever even to figure out what I was supposed to do with my profile page. I’m programmed by the journalism profession to produce coherent content: stuff with news value, or a coherent point, something.
I’ve only recently figured out myspace is more like a campaign poster for class president at Ridgemont High. Something to tell a little about yourself, has a list of all the folks who appear to like you and — for God’s sake — makes you look cool.
It’ll come to me eventually; but I don’t expect to enjoy the process. It’s a necessary evil, I suppose, and I can’t imagine ever devoting the amount of creative
energy pride terror anguish to a myspace page as I aim to on the casefiles.
But I see its utility. Now if I could just find that danny dude’s page. I left my jacket at his party and I was too trashed to remember where his house was.
It was a dark road, and I’m pretty sure there were some trees ….
UPDATE: Anguish! That was the emotion I was looking for! Oh, and by the way, it’s good to be back. I know everyone has missed me in this recent hiatus. Well, everyone that was here before. Which was, ya know, no one. Except you, Lulu!