As some of you already know, I hate Twitter.
One could argue that it is reactionary and irrational for me to spend actual energy hating an interface that hasn’t done anything to me. No one is putting a gun to my head and making me tweet, or read other people’s twits, or listen as they recite these twits in my ear in low, menacing tones.
And it’s true. I’m not being forced to do anything. But the nagging sense of the whole system’s fucked-uppitude won’t leave me.
Cause it seems to me that Twitter–this tool dedicated to “keeping everyone in the know”–is so popular precisely because it makes others think there is so much more to us that they don’t know, and that this unknowability, somewhat paradoxically, makes them feel they know enough about us to want to know more. Even though they still don’t know anything.
It’s like the whole dirty mess of humanity’s existential crisis being hung out to dry on a global clothesline.