For all I criticize the world wide web, for its pervasiveness and sticky addictive grasp, for its tireless attempt to whittle all relationships down to the same casual and flippant basis, for its creepy cataloging of details that might want to be forgotten, I’m not volunteering to give mine up anytime soon. Or ever.
Some of my closest friendships began online but are now very real and important parts of my life. The potential for actual, lasting connection is beguiling but possible. That’s a sentence straight out of 1996 and I might as well be trying to justify time spent in an aol chat room: I’m not telling you anything you don’t know. Me writing this blog and you reading this blog is us at the internet lovers conference.
How else could I shamelessly spam all virtual pals and lurkers with so many of my musical crushes? Sorry if this is a repeat for some of you, but I am still pretty high on these fellows. I feel younger when I listen to them, their fresh earnestness sort of sweeps me up, the way music can do, and I forget how old and matronly I am these days, until I stop listening, and then it’s like that jarring shock of stepping off of a moving sidewalk, and I remember. So I keep listening. Plus, what’s not to like about a talented, multi-instrument band and hand clapping? I like hand claps in songs almost as much as little bits of whistling.