We’ve been getting a lot of irate emails and-god help us-tweets at the CH3 communications center about our recent Twitter blog. Jesus, you tech nerds are a prissy bunch, aren’t ya?
Alright already, let’s not get our panties in a bunch—we’re not giving up on this trend0 technology just yet.
Actually,after reading through a few of these Tweets, it occurred to me that they greatly resemble that hoary old Junior High chestnut, the Haiku!
We know, we know—you’ve always associated CH3 with being champions of the Iambic Pentameter, and oh brother–don’t get Anthony and Alf started on the limitations of the Sonnet as a metaphysical vehicle!! Not unless you want a couple of drunk Latino hotheads schoolin ya on TS eliot!!
But this Twitter business—it’s almost hypnotic with the brief missives, eh? For example, check this recent update we posted:
Threw up in my mouth onstage @hob thursday. Could’ve pulled it off if I didn’t spit it out and then tell the audience…learn from this!
Nice eh? Conveys the sense of place and action— clean and brief. That’s really what you people want to read on your Iphones, ain’t it? I mean, really–what I’m eating, how I’m feeling…. It all boils down to the bodily function.
I can just see this post happening in the near future:
I just Sharted!
And then –cryptically, tragically—- only this:
Hey, if that’s what you folks really want popping up on the screen during your son’s graduation, fine by me…. I can do this nonsense all day, people!
So there you are, a nice romantic dinner in that new Persian place you’ve both been dying to try. And yeah, it’s been a crazy week for the both of you- it seems like you see less of each other now than before she moved in…crazy, huh?
A peppery zinfadel breathes patiently on the table. The lavash was divine, the khoresht is on its way, and you are feeling aligned with this wonderful world.
So you take her hands in yours, look into those deep green eyes. They shine tonight, and it reminds you of the phosphorus glow of the waves, that night you first kissed her on the beach at midnight. Those eyes- the twin moons orbiting your wounded planet- they are the only things keeping you from flying off into the void.
This is the time to talk about a future, a real commitment, and so you finally say the words—Whoa—Wha?! The blackberry is buzzing between you , and hello–here’s a tweet from Alf:
The dog ate his fill of catshit, just barfed on the carpet. lol!
Welcome to the new day bitches!