You're reading a post titled “Noise.” from the archives of Big Contrarian. It was originally published on May 4th, 2008 at 09:45 PM. If you enjoy it, you should subscribe to this site’s RSS feed, or its Twitter page.

Not a damn one of them makes things better.

Every where you turn, some new service is springing up to clutter your world with noise. Flickr, Facebook, Twitter, RSS, FriendFeed, text-messaging, Dodgeball, MySpace, blogs, the list goes on. All of them seem to encourage drawing out a twenty-minute conversation over drinks into a week long extravaganza of micro-updates. If so desired, I could spend my entire life reading up on the seemingly prolific online activity of friends, ex-girlfriends, ex-roommates, co-workers and the assorted motley crew of somewhat-close-but-not-really-close acquittances one acquires on one’s adventures.

It’s exhausting knowing what everyone is up to. Exhausting just staring at the day-to-day online path my friends and family tread. The more noise I add, the more I seek, hoping for that rare occasion of signal. Fearing missing it. In a constant mode of addition, drawing in as much breath as possible for the ever slimming chance of oxygen.

Everyone’s seen everything by the time you send it. Everyone’s heard about everything by the time you mention it. And while I can appreciate the glory of an ever-expanding stream of new from which any one can drink, I can mourn the moments in conversation where two individuals passed cultural notes each one lacked. I can yearn for conversations with less meta and more data. Let me have my nostalgia.

Worse, so accustomed does one become to there being nothing new, you almost start to forget all the wonderful bullshit that makes up your week. You take it for granted that every party has already read your Twitters on how your day kinda sucked, and you bought a new hat and you were thinking about why August: Osage County is such brilliant American stage drama. You answer “What’s new?” with “Nothing much,” which, unless you just saw the person five hours ago, is a complete lie.

You forget to share, because you assume you already have.

These new-fangled whatzits and widgizmos are connecting us to our detriment. They’re turning us into boring machines of constant broadcast. 24 hour news channels with an ever smaller range of topic. We’re stuck having conversations we’ve already had some where else.

The absolute most fun one can have on a weekend is the first drink with a good friend. Those first thirty minutes of the run down and shared concern and laughter and mutual appreciation for the shit and glory of each other’s mundane existence.

And god dammit if you’re not all ruining it.