I signed up with Facebook on August 3 and quit yesterday after 4 weeks. Too "busy" for me and cluttered in a monochrome way, and a reminder that there was a reason why from high school and college and afterward, the dozen or so people in my email address book were all the real friends I cared to sustain electronically as in the flesh on long-distance occasion (I own no telephone), our mutual doings tossed off once a quarter or so, among my link-addict's encyclopedic forwardings. As a big-picture summary portal, I much prefer my customised iGoogle page, which more resembles a library periodical room laid out like Commander McBragg's globe-laden study than the hyper-caffeinated neon jungle of Facebook.

I did have one Facebook episode that stood out head and shoulders in a life since 1998 lived almost entirely online. On comments beneath the link-post of a mutual friend, I "met" a freelance magazine writer whose work I had enjoyed here and there in decades past, and we discovered over the same thread developed off and on there between midnight and 3:15 am a batch of mutual interests, which set me to Googling with my free hand, so to speak. A firecracker-string of parallels between the writer and one of my favorite pseudonymous bloggers revealed itself, a fact I revealed to him in turn slyly and with unmistakable insider's hints, before, as Oscar Wilde's Gilbert, from The Critic as Artist said, "the night wearies, and the light flickers in the lamp...", in our respective passive dropoffs from the thread. I assured him of my tight lips, and to the best of my knowledge, the only peepers to have seen and grasped the coded import of our exchange were those of our mutual friend from the blogospheric elsewhere. It was like meeting a supercool dude at a party, then upon heading to the gents' with your laptop, finding he had also turned you on to half your favorite web pages over the last decade. I could have downed an entire keg at that point. Thanks, Facebook and Google!

I blogged on the whole Facebook-exodus trendlet under the headings Facebook: The Final Frontier-Filled Goodriddance, or, Big Brothel is Be-otching You, and No Thank You for Being a “Friend”, or, Every Time You Go Away, I Love You Even More, and, after the old 1930s publishing chestnut about the surefire bestseller to be had under the omnibus title Lincoln's Doctor's Dog, explored in a brief excursus the canine equivalent to online-portal obsessions, with Exhibit A family-snapshot support.

Posted by: Scott Lahti on September 1, 2009 8:00 PM

monsieur blowhard:

Linking right back at ya, I think you'll really enjoy Alexi Wasser's blog. She writes well, is very witty, and likes to bone. If a post seems too verbose-skip it. There's some great stuff in her archives.

She did a promo video for the blog which captures her attitude pretty well.

Posted by: Bealu on September 1, 2009 10:33 PM

Facebook is a social network site for people who have a social life -- that is, lots of inter-personal drama that they are required to constantly keep the pulse of.

Therefore, it is not designed for anyone over 30, as they largely lack social drama in their lives, at least compared to their adolescence and young adulthood (for which they are grateful). And it is only somewhat useful for those between 25 and 30.

Mostly it is for high schoolers, college students, and those who are wasting their first few years after college "finding themselves." These are the social environments that are volatile and high-pressure enough to require you to continually stay abreast of what's going on. When social life becomes calm, there's not much news to check up on.

The idea that a 40 year-old NYT columnist and her 40-something peers constitute an "exodus" is risible. They simply figured out that their social lives are too boring to have to constantly check Facebook to see what's up.

Posted by: agnostic on September 1, 2009 11:44 PM

From "Carnac the Magnificent: Turban Renewal From the Cutting-Room Floor", The Tonight Show With Johnny Carson (NBC):

Carnac [presses envelope to brow in feigned divination, with insider's smirk upon catching high-octane fumes wafting from Sancho Panza on loan from Anheuser-Busch, Publishers' Clearinghouse and StarSearch: The Next Generation]: "Morning Links"...

Ed McMahon [attempts regaining upright posture, and recalls mortgage and contractual obligations]: HOHOHOHOHO!!! YES!!!... "Morning Links!!!"

Carnac [tears then blows envelope open, reads slip enclosed as Ed fights off wandering Alpo-promo dog "friending" his leg *avant la Facebook*]: What is the inevitable and organic byproduct of Evening Roughage?

[cue stock footage of galloping, foaming Clydesdales after Doc swallows last mouthful of "homemade" brownies in rousing band to sleepwalking through break theme]

Posted by: Scott Lahti on September 2, 2009 12:15 AM

Is an idiot savant intelligent?

Posted by: marik on September 2, 2009 1:27 AM

Oh agnostic, you're adorable. I'm 11 years past 30 and have reunited (online and in person) with many, many old friends in the past couple years, as well as continued to keep in touch with them, all solely due to Facebook. In fact, a few of us aging musicians have even formed a little band and have planned and played practices and gigs using Facebook. It's also a wonderful tool to share pictures of kids with far-flung friends and family.

In short, it's nothing less than a revolution in communication. Much less cluttered than MySpace. So once again, aggie, I must remind you that life does indeed remain interesting past the age of 30. You'll see when you get there.

Posted by: JV on September 9, 2009 1:39 PM






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