NCOD 2005 - The Facebook

So, you know those awkward moments where you’re standing with a whole bunch of people you really don’t know that well. You’re dressed relatively nice but edgy enough that if your conversation were a little less engaging you’d look ridiculous. But you’re losing your self-awareness in the attention and the growing comfort. Then it slips from your mouth, a name, just a name that means nothing to you but a jerk comment earlier, a bad haircut last week, a poorly handled social situation. You drop the name and the dismissive negative connotations it carries for you. and the room stops. Suddenly you know it, you don’t know who he is or what he did, but you know it. You’re standing on holy ground and not only did you not remove your sandals but there’s shit on the bottom of your shoe.

Well folks, I’ve got the feeling now is about to be one of those moments. You see, i know a lot of people are in love with him. And god knows the gays would be lost without his presence. In fact, I know for a fact that most of you are quite intimate with him but I’m afraid my tolerance’s been worn through and I am done. Its not to say that I don’t know him well, that he hasn’t served me dutifully and I too have not been at one time or another entirely obsessed with his abilities, his connections, his infinite power to amuse, but folks I’ve just got to say its over, I utterly hate The Facebook

Yes, I took his name in vain, the Facebook, that bastion of repressed sexual energy unleashed across your screen in grand displays of blue and white. That e-mail crazy, definition happy contraption that got you that number, that connection, got you invited to that party, hooked you up with that study group, gave him the right to know your favorite movie, gave her the information to follow you home, gave you the information to follow him home call him up and mail things to his POBOX, the Facebook.

Now, why you may wonder am I taking ish with the facebook, what did he do to me that hurt me so badly that I would denounce him in front of all of you. well, I can’t sya it wa ssimple, that I can point directly, I can’t say it was even personal to him, maybe I’m taking ish with the broader spectrum of his class. Yes, taking ish with downlink, gay.com, even MySpace. You see, there is something in me that resists the cartographer, there is something unmappabl;e, irreducible, something outside of my interests, my quote, my personal statements that I would rather control. There is something about me that resists product summaries, that resists being shopped through like so many brands of yogurt. Something in me that doesn’t want to be easymac and maybe just isn’t so good and cheesy as to fit into blue boxes.

There is something in me that resists being defined. Now, this is a coming out piece its true and I’m not trying to come out as a hater, not trying to come out as an RA or as a defender of the complexity of the individual. All I’m trying to say is when you ask me what I’m looking for I hesitate, when you ask me what I’m interested in I draw a blank, when you ask me who I’m interested in, I just don’t know. You see I’m gayer than most, I’m sure. More likely to date a boy than ask him to play ball. I’m masculinely handicapped and fashionably experimental, I’m diva crazed and I act, sing, dance and paint. I rate 27 on a purity test and am a verifiable homo. But I come to that box and I hesitate nonetheless, I hesitate to confess my interest as one in labels, in dualities and catories