The Exception

I find Twitter really gross, because I crave anonymity and disconnection and, you know, aloneness a good bit of the time. And this 21st century hunger for ACCESS freaks me out (I don't have a Facebook or MySpace profile). Obviously I write on this blog, but I know my audience is a pretty closed circuit and there's a difference between openness and overloading everyone with a torrent of insignificant, obsessive personal information. I write about things and experiences in essay form and showcase musics and images; I don't regale you good people with artless "blurbs" about what I am doing and eating and thinking minute by minute. But, then again, Twitter is simply a format, and smart, fantastic people can do smart and fantastic things within its bounds. At least, Chris Walken can. Here are two recent tweets:

I claim to be frightened of horses but do so only to get out of attending parades. It's peculiar but has served me well. The horses get it.

I made a little pimp outfit and put it in the yard. The bluejay hasn't come back since. Some weird shit going on with the squirrels though.