A Memoir is Not a Status Update

I wonder how that specific writing experience would be different. Because of the public spaces that are always open. The readers that are just a Publish button away. And the endless opportunities for release. All of this at a memoirist’s fingertips, even if she is not ready. Even if she wants to be alone.

Twitter Poetry

Mission District, San Francisco

Sifting through my digital detritus
some rare moments of light
while others
speak only
of the weight
I wish to escape

A Fragmented Web

Ras Shaitan, Egypt

Just because I follow you on X, Doesn’t mean I’ll follow you on Y or Z. If my internet is composed of many rooms, Why on earth would I want the same people in each one?

Tiny Bits

Small moments on Twitter are fascinating, because they reveal tiny bits about the people who share them, and in aggregate, reveal entire patterns of human behavior and emotion. – Doug Bowman, “A Love Letter to Twitter” I agree: I enjoy those tiny, unexpected moments on Twitter the most: when I learn of other people’s quirks and fears and imperfections. Their other masks. I’m reminded of past musings on my favorited tweets, and the idea of crafting and curating our own universes.

Publishing on High Notes

I publish something on a blog when I have something to say, when a point can be made. I’m quiet otherwise. But real life happens in between status updates, doesn’t it? The mundane and uneventful, the low points, the days I feel ugly and inadequate — I wait until it all passes, until something crystallizes from the buildup. So I’m here to comment on what feels like nothing in particular: the ebbs and flows, the in-between, the bits that add up to create the plot points of my life. That’s the thing… Read More

Creating Our Own Narratives

weaving narratives

What we post in these moments of proclamation on a site like Facebook is a byproduct, a projection. Instead, life happens between status updates.

Instagram Has Ruined Me

Alhambra, Granada

Then I opened Instagram, ran a filter over it, and posted it — to send it off into the world to be liked and viewed for its moment of glory, and to shortly after join the stream of other Instagrams disappearing into our Internet wasteland.

Still Thinking About Now: On Twitter and (Real) Time

bananagrams

I think of the expiration dates we stamp on produce at the supermarket. How when we place items on shelves, we instantly date their freshness. I think about tweets in the same way: once unleashed for all to see, how long can they sit before they’re irrelevant? Before they’re kicked out of the conversation of now?

Instapaper and My Ideal Intellectual State

My Ideal State

Read Later. I’m unsure what this means now. It’s become less of an action, and now some kind of blessed, magical place. An ideal state far in the horizon, to where I put stories and ideas and information for me to consume and synthesize to make myself a better, more informed person.

On Everything and Nothing & Reading and Not Writing

typewriter-square cropped

Sometimes I envision my Twitter feed as rushing water: my presence is a dam, and each tweet is debris making its way downstream. It’s now a challenge to let information simply flow—to let tweets swim by without me seeing or interacting with them.