WHENEVER I WANT

Kat says….

Apologies for the delayed response, but it isn’t easy to construct a retort to a post that essentially ended in bestiality. Even more troublesome than the fact you can find such things on the internet (the discovery of bestiality with a romantic anecdote must have involved a horrifying google – what did they/you ask to uncover that? I don’t recommend speculating, as I just did, ew) is the fact that as I read your ‘subtle’ description an advert for the Hollywood rom-com, based on the story, flashed through my mind. Can’t you hear the voiceover now? “A love that knows no bounds…” etc.

Right, I’m officially putting ‘it’ to rest now.

I’m electing to pick up on your presentation of the internet, as you so very delicately put it, a ‘fucked up place.’ Despite my prudish reaction (English heritage, as ever, at fault) to the F word (both the television show and the profanity) this is probably the best way to describe it. Furthermore as a subject choice for an online blog, I suppose it is a form of virtual metafiction we’re indulging in.

I forget the source of the article now, but a while ago I was reading a review of a recently published collection of letters between a famous author and various friends and lovers. The journalist adopted a nostalgic position remarking that nowadays such a collection would be almost impossible to amass, thanks to the internet. Unless (like me) you obsessively print out and collate favourite emails, articles and images much of our online communication is devoured by cyber space. A few interesting projects could evolve from this; is anyone documenting 50 Cent’s tweets, for example?

This has been partially and somewhat tragically actualised in the form of a book. ‘Twitterature’ residing within the traditional bright orange, penguin classic hipster packaging are famous novels broken down into tweets. The interpretation of Dante’s inferno: ‘I’m having a midlife crisis. Lost in the woods. Should have brought my iPhone’ is what my Dad would call witty, sure. It’s a mildly good and albeit depressing giggle, as it’s hard to ignore that reducing one of the world’s greatest books to a few one liners is akin to google imaging the Taj Mahal and subsequently feeling as though there is no need to actually go.

It’s true. I’ve developed a middle aged disdain for the internet’s ability to replace genuine experience with various online versions. Don’t get me wrong, I’m as hypocritical as the next fake-glasses-wearing hipster and I recognise some benefits of the virtual world. Crikey, these days I can even eliminate the worst social interaction of all. Ordering takeaway. When completing this activity, it’s a blessing that human contact is now rendered defunct and I can do it online. You’d be surprised how much the posh English pronunciation of the phrase ‘92% extra cheese’ is misunderstood over the phone/at the drive thru. As with most good things in life, however, there is a curse to the blessing. The curse, of course, is that now I get all the extra cheese I want. In many ways I’m strangely proud to be heading for a Henry VIII ‘lift’ onto my steed.

Right, I’m off to Wikipedia existentialism.