Notes from a Walkman Junkie: The Poetry of Shirtless Men
Those who know me are quite aware that my technological benightedness extends well beyond the world of musical devices (which is limited to CD players and ipod broaches). I did not own a computer or a cell phone until about three years ago… (pause for *gasps*). I have always fully resisted the steady momentum to move forward and change (technologically speaking) my ways or non-ways, as the case may be in regard to communication. I truly miss the ‘olden’ days of writing utensils and rotary phones and find the replacements (emails and cell phones) depressing and often distasteful.
I have decided that the next time anyone starts to ‘text’ someone at the table in my presence I shall pull out pen and paper and begin composing a personal letter… “Dear Henry, It seems like ages ago…”this is the same basic concept, just far less offensive and results in the enjoyment of someone receiving a delightful and nearly extinct hand written letter. I have always and will always prefer hand written letters to emails and the very notion of someone being able to get a hold of me at ANY time via cell phone sends me into a sudden and overwhelming panic. I feel compelled to physically hide myself or at the very least to hit the floor and remain very still. I desperately miss the idea of ‘not being home’ as a sufficient reason for my non-availability. My reluctance to join the masses in their communication advancements (or at least well beyond my ‘pigeon carrier’ equivalent methods) finally came to an end through the insistence of my family and friends to buy a computer. This was a time in my life that due to unpleasant circumstances (I won’t bore you with details… yet) when I was living alone and far from family and friends. I was encouraged not only to get a computer, but also to join the unknown mysterious worlds of social networks as a method of being more ‘in touch’ with all of my favorite people.
I shall give you an idea of just how completely ignorant I was to all of the new(ish) social networks springing up at the time. I can recall a girl that I worked with telling me that she met her new boyfriend on myspace to which I replied, “Is that a bar?”, and lets face it, it is. I too eventually joined the likes of myspace and much to my horror, immediately started to receive ‘friend requests’ from countless strange men ALWAYS pictured sans shirt. These requests were often accompanied by a very charming message. Something along the lines of, “Hey baby, I bet you give great head”, “I wanna see your tits”, or perhaps just a simple, “I think we should fuck.” Now, I am paraphrasing and perhaps not doing the shirtless men’s poetic prose justice, but I think you get the gist of it.
I will say that once I figured out the privacy settings and such that the shirtless men’s messages ceased (or lessened), and I then discovered myspace to be a glorious and abundant place to find and enjoy music. I started and continue to collect hundreds of ‘bandfriends’ and have found it to be most gratifying. One of the first bands that I took great pleasure in befriending was Let’s Go Sailing, which can be described as a quietly magnificent indie pop band full of rainbows and fairies… with a dark side. Right up my alley. I should mention that I now could not possibly imagine living without my computer OR cell phone. That said, I still continue to write handwritten letters and pretend that I am ‘not home’ when I don’t feel like talking. I do however, love to send an occasional ‘cock’ text here and there.