A Comparison of Facebook Friendships and Marketing Value

Sometimes you just want to roll through your entire friend list and tell everyone “it’s complicated.”  Facebook, the Biggest Brother of them all, makes its money trying to unravel those twisted threads into usable marketing data.  I imagine that if they used underemployed humanities majors to sort that out instead of multi-million dollar computer algorithms, it might look like this.

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Interface

I’ve always believed that people are fundamentally separate.  I envision us as tiny pilots in our own skulls, desperately slamming buttons and pulling levers to make our bodies walk and talk and touch.  I try to tell people about the fact that I live in my head.  Before I can say “and I think you do, too,” they start giving advice on how to “get out” and “live.”  I don’t know how to talk about it without someone hearing “please help me” instead.  I don’t know why it sounds like an insult to be in your head.  I love my head.  It’s where my brain is.

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Dear Person at the Party

Fun party, right? I said, FUN PARTY, RIGHT? Sorry, did you say something? I can’t – I SAID I CAN’T HEAR YOU! Fuck, this music is loud. Wanna head out for a smoke? I SAID – fuckin’ Christ… *Shakes cigarette pack, gestures toward door*

Ah, that’s better. So uh, this is officially the part where I run out of things to say. I think you’re cute, or at least find you interesting in some way. I wouldn’t have bothered to bring you out here, otherwise. Do I look interested? I’m trying to look interested. I mean, I AM interested, but I’d sound like a crazy person if I just turned to you and said “I’m interested,” right? So I have to LOOK interested. Without looking, you know, INTERESTED. With emphasis.

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What It Means to Not Be Alone

She came back from the jukebox a dollar lighter.  She turned to the man on her left and said, “Today, I need some patience – so I’m playing Patience.”

I poked through my shy exterior with drunken poetics – “We used to pray to a god, and now we pray to the jukebox.”  It sounded clever at the time.  They got me free drinks afterward, so it must have seemed clever to them, too.

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Make Me Understand

“No one understands.”

I hate that sentence. It calls up the last three brain cells I have left from high school, when I said those words constantly. When I hear it, I remember how much time I spent hating others for ignoring me just because I wasn’t talking to them. That’s the problem. If no one understands, you’re not being very clear. You’re probably not even being a little clear. You might even get off on being cryptic, because you think it’s the same thing as “deep,” whatever you think that means. I only say these things because I’ve been these things.

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