In yesterday’s article, we discussed how the internet can bind old friendships. Today, we’ll examine why meeting virtual friends in person often leads to disaster and misconception.
Continue reading → Death on the Tethered Vine: Breaking the Virtual Bond
When we consider the depth of the internet, we often foment shallow thoughts of the world compressing time and space as we become more distant from each other. We reach for tethers and tendrils and often come up with an empty grasp.
I receive email pleas and scams all the time but, the following letter was especially interesting for its wonderful pretend warmth and cunning, hazy, directness. I am posting it exactly how it was formatted and spelled. For a moment, I thought this was a nice note from the eKaterina I know, but, alas, it was not from her. Take the following note — edited down a bit to remove repetitiveness — as a warning and a wonderment.
by Noemi Szadeczky-Kardoss
It was Sunday evening again, and on every Sunday evening, I wanted to die.
“Cindy! Where are you?” I heard my mother’s voice calling me.
I was in the living room watching an episode of my favorite TV show that I had recorded on the Friday before. I knew my mother wanted to say that it was already eleven, and that I had school the following day, but that was something I didn’t want to hear. On Sunday evenings, I just wanted to bury myself somewhere and not come out until Friday, or drink some kind of magical medicine like Juliet, so that I could sleep deeply for days and wouldn’t have to do anything.
“So here you are hiding!”
by Greg Van Belle
He followed the stairs that curled down, around, and under themselves into a part of the building he had never seen. Depressed blue lockers lined the walls. Her office was two doors down, the only one open and occupied.
“I’m lost,” he admitted.
“I’ve been lost before,” she replied.
by Mark A. Johnson
I remember when
you used my records as a scratching post.
Jimi Hendrix had gashes across his face
and holes in his guitar.
And you woke me at three that morning
to tell me you were cold,
and I let you under the covers, forgiven.
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