Zabatious Blog.  Click here to skip side menu and go directly to the main body. fuck the

activist gig

what was it I was doing again?

Recently Read

Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America
The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym of Nantucket & Related Tales
Death Masks
Summer Knight
One Salt Sea
Grave Peril
Late Eclipses
All That Lives Must Die
An Artificial Night
Fool Moon
A Local Habitation


on the needles

in my head
stache addict

their lives
ninja journalist
red head press
colleen anne
the cunning james
inky knits
d'wan's brain
high vark
the capacious hold-all
abbie the cat
no impact man
starting from scratch

stitch 'n bitch army
the gogok
knitting knurse
gambling & whoring
can't sit still
miss knit
knits and pieces
magic knitter
sweet little domestic life
transference of addiction

currently stalking
amanda palmer
clarine harp
brenda dayne
franklin habit
stephanie pearl-mcphee
tim ralphs

ikea dreams
1 mandal bed
1 mandal wardrobe
1 ethel rund shower curtain

me like-y!
male contraceptives
another girl @ play
melanie mauer photography
le cadavre exquis
unamerican activities
christmas resistance
all about my vagina
voluntary human extinction movement

Honorary Kiwi

did I do that?
The AntiCraft
nz in 2003
life with nadja
wish list
Zabet Groznaya

btw, I power Blogger

and you are visitor #
Site Meter
since 02.01.01

design © 2002-2007 by
zabet.groznaya at gmail dot com

Subscribe to
Posts [Atom]

.: 12.04.2009 

The Subtle Cruelty of Facebook

You find someone from your past and friend him or her. The memory accepts your request and becomes a real person again. You share in their joys and triumphs, their letdowns and sorrow. They share in yours. You build new images of the someone you previously only knew in a single context.

More memories appear in connection, a vast network of shadows and tricks of the light that make sparks in your mind. One of them is bittersweet. Your cynicism overtakes you and you make mental wagers as to how long before a binary wall is built to obscure you from view. A few days pass and you seriously consider going on the offensive. In the end, however, you reconsider. You think it's been long enough. You think you've got a shot. You think the kettle could be put on and a cup of tea shared and things could just be comfortable again, friendly and funny. You don't push. You don't send messages, write on walls, or request friendship. You just let the bittersweetness linger in a familiar way and hope it resonates.

And Facebook, in its hardcoded, gentle politeness, doesn't mention that you are not, apparently, bittersweet in kind. It doesn't point out that your memory is actually busy living its own life. It doesn't so much as whisper when the wall is built.

All this you find out on your own, months later. When you thought things had been going so well.

Labels: , , , , ,

thus proclaimeth the Zabet  2:08 PM   0 comment(s)


Post a Comment

New Wizard Rock Shirts!
by Zabet