Of late, the boys have started this group message thread to whittle away the hours while pretending to work and yet still reap the benefits of a real paycheck. Like all the best Seinfield, the thread is mostly about nothing: BSing each other and counting down the minutes until happy hour. Since my phone has sold its digital soul to the ‘robot devil’ (i.e. it broke), I could not read these messages or in truth comment on them. Luckily, last Easter I lost my cellphone down a storm-drain while stomping on it with my right heel. It will not be missed. My subsequent purchase of an iPhone opened a doorway to a whole new world of texting and communication. Moreover, I can now chat with my brothers while they work during these June days and I contemplate my next blog post in my PJs at home. Teaching does have its merits.
The following conversation delved into how my presence has affected the Groupchat (as they dub it) for better or for worse. If you, dear reader, find these conversations interesting, I might try to post a few more now and then.
I refuse to give in to the Twitter-machine. To me, the humorous, insightful, and sometimes insipid mini-comments that Twitter distributes to the world best serves . . . well, interesting people. I mean, if you’re going to follow the day-to-day goings-on of anyone, only scientists (“Hey I cured cancer!”), entertainers (“Hey, I have spoilers!”), or vain-glorious reality stars (“Hey, I have chemistry!”) could truly benefit. Lifestyles of the poor and unemployed simply cannot compete. Unless of course, they don’t feel particularly encumbered by ‘truth’ and ‘honesty.’ Then it’s a different story . . .
Left to my own devices while shopping with Mom and Katie, I occasionally shoot texts to my sister while stalking through the mall, watching people and staring into stores. In this post-Borders and -Waldenbooks dystopia, I am left to buying a fruit shakes and browsing the gadgets in Brookstone — one of the last monuments to disposable income, where even a tabletop billiards table seems impossible to live without.
The texts simultaneously offer a creative output for my energies, while annoying my little sister who’s eager to hear from Leo, her boyfriend, about dinner: Continue reading