My name is Dan, and I have a Twitter feed.
I thought I had kicked the habit. Really, I did. I mean, I was never a terribly prolific Tweeter — Tweeterer? Tweetist? — to begin with. And deep down, I do sort of resent the intrusion of yet another social networking tool that reduces communication to truncated pseudo-English — or as I like to call it, webonics.
Is your day really enriched by knowing that I'm over-caffeinated in the morning, reading FailBlog in the afternoon when I really ought to be doing club listings or craving a cold beer in the morn, er, after work? Probably not. By the same token, do I really need an up-to-the-minute rundown of how your day is going? I like you guys and all, but I'm the kind of fella who likes to leave the mystery intact to some degree.
So I had basically stopped Twittering. For like a good two weeks. Maybe longer. But every day, I noticed more and more people following my (then dormant) feed. And I started feeling guilty. Not guilty enough to actually start using Twitter again, mind you. But guilty just the same. Is this what it's like to be Catholic?
Anyway, today I finally succumbed and unleashed a few sub-140 character brain dribblings into the Tweetscape. And you know what? It felt good. Really good. Like that first beer in the morn, er, after work. And that's not all.
After acquiring a small cadre of followers over the last couple of weeks, I found myself checking in to view their brain dribblings too. What's worse, I started to care. (My 7D predecessor, Casey Rae-Hunter, tweets like Robert Pollard writes songs, which is to say non-freakin'-stop.)
Then came the tipping point, when after being forced to wait several seconds because Twitter was "over capacity" — WTF?! NOOOOOO! — Daryl Rabidoux posted a link to a YouTube clip of late San Diego outfit No Knife, whom I'd never heard of but fell immediately in love with and promptly downloaded an album via eMusic. (Pinback fans might recognize the drummer.) Here's the clip:
If this keeps up, I'll be broke in a week. Damn you, Twitter. Damn you!
Aw . . . I can't stay mad at you.