Thursday, January 16, 2014

Whisper to me

Whisper is a new social media web application that allows you to write out your secrets anonymously. 


I have visited the website and Android application a few hundred times since Christmas. You might better categorize my obsession with the app by understanding that I have spent a few hundred hours on it.  I have developed numerous friendships. Most of the friendships do not last more than a few moments.  But those experiences have taught me something that I never learned in my Social Psychology classes.  Nor in all my time of reading Philosophy, Ethics or Morality.

I have learned about connection.  I have learned of my need for connectivity.  I have discovered that I can connect with any human at anytime even when that connection lasts only for seconds or moments and I have discovered that the connection can have consequence.  It can have lasting impact on me and my faith and my humanity and it can teach me that I no longer need to worry about run on sentences or my use of commas because the common man and the common women does not need commas and the common folk have theyre own way of talking and WH0 ARE WE TO JUDGE>???

 and in your case it's not even what's on the outside

I feel like because I am good 
looking people stop caring 
who I am on the inside.
 they just want the 


You're cute.  Not the kinda hot that I'd skip wanting you to have a personality.

I don't know those folk, nor do you.  These are not the folk that sit around posting cat pictures and debating the merits of TOS and Deep SPace 9 ( a terrible series that never included cats to my knowledge.)

I learned other things these past days.

I learned my roommate doesn't feel the need to discuss his failure to make rent.  But he can smoke pot, and have sex with a woman and all I will do is post 7 second snap-chats to anonymous strangers I find on Whisper jerking off to frothy vaginas that synchronously show up in my Inbox.

There.  I said it.  A woman's vagina is a box.

Trapping me here in this space and time.  Squeezing the lumps in my nuts, like the growing tumor pressed against my thigh, or gushing over me like the squishy knee that props me up limp like, my exposed gut creeping forward and hanging on the conveyor belt of grocery store life that I call exisitence.

What I learned from Whispers you cannot unlearn There is a new level of social organization.

Do not visit the Whispers if you cannot handle this new level of intimacy/privacy/anonymity/fame

There is nothing to see there.

Move along.

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