Go back to your room, and to feel safe, put on Miley Cyrus’ “Party in the U.S.A.” on repeat.
You might wonder how my best girlfriend and I were able to date the same boy for an entire summer. Your faces are probably scrunching up in confusion right now and thinking, “That must’ve been really weird. Especially because your best friend was a chick. And he was a dude. And you’re a dude.” While in theory it might’ve been a strange decision, it turned out to be anything but in practice (at least for awhile).
I rarely saw him on ‘rec.arts.poetry’ thereafter either, although I think on one occasion like a year following our incident I searched his name on the newsgroup and found one extremely bad poem he had posted on the newsgroup [even at age 14 I knew it was an ‘extremely bad poem.’]
The Top 8- a feature in which a Myspace user could rate their eight most important friendships based on who they liked better that day-literally destroyed relationships. At first, it was fun to have your 8 best friends hanging out next to each other on a website because, oh my god, you loved them and you wanted everyone to know it! But then it just turned into an evil passive-agressive tool.
Maxime Luère‘s short film, A Life On Facebook, tells the accelerated life story of Alex Droner. Through the stream of information on his Facebook profile we see him accumulate friends and photos, fall in and out of love, and eventually grow old and logout.
Nate Young – member of quintessential American noise group Wolf Eyes. Minimalist approach to Facebook maintenance. Facebook profile picture doesn’t show Young, but a drawing in the style of Goya’s Disasters of War. Indicates the bands of which he is a member.
Tumblr users share a number of recurring gimmicks – love for Nutella, appreciation for artfully decorated cupcakes, floral print dresses, Starbucks beverages, rainy Paris passageways, and celestial landscapes of Helvetica-emblazoned skylines. They display a propensity to reblog film photos from disposable cameras…
22-year-old Los Angeles native Clay “Clayton Clayton” Hawkins calls himself the “King of Hard Pop.” He is a relentless self-promoter, a glitter-gun toting and gladiator mask wearing glam-rocker, a hardcore documentary addict, an unsung singing superstar and a fierce dresser. Don’t google him.
I went on Chatroulette for maybe eight minutes. It was winter and freezing. I was in the middle of a bout of seasonal affective disorder, just dyed my hair gray and felt trapped in my apartment. I saw a vagina, a penis and…