new old profile cast rings reviews linkers random notes email layout host

� In this diary, I record my life as a transvestite. Perhaps it will help somebody else, who finds their lifestyle doesn't quite match that endorsed by the 'tranny mafia'. Well, I've been there... and survived. The debriefing starts here.

�loves: All kinds of stuff that society thinks I shouldn't.

�hates: Microsoft. Obviously.

�reads:
secret-motel
artgnome
enfinblue
stepfordtart
ten-oclock
boombasticat
lawliiet
annanotbob
fifidellabon
my-serenade

Lynn Jones
Becky
Samantha

Antisocial networking
1:03 p.m. -- 2010-01-25

So... I received an invitation from an old friend, who wanted me to network with him via Farcebook. This is somebody I should really have stayed in touch with, from my university days, so of course I obliged.

I had never been a Farcebook user before. I tried Myspace once, when it seemed like that was the future of blogging... but then all I ever got there was friend requests from stupid teen garage bands, and I ended the experiment.

So. Farcebook. Or should I say Facilebook? It's incredibly content-light. (You probably know all this already. You might even prefer it that way... but I was stunned.) A flock of tweeting, twittering... twats. Entries free from any attempt at depth or humour... or meaning.

"Aaron Ampersand: is enjoying a ham sandwich. Nom nom!"

Do these people really think that we give a rat's arse? Even if Aaron Ampersand was my best buddy in the whole wide world, or the biggest celebrity since Jesus... need to know, people. Need to know.

I have yet to see an entry longer than a single line. I know one can cram a lot into a single sentence, but I have yet to encounter the James Joyce of the Farcebook world. Mostly it's ham sandwiches.

Still, I re-established contact with my friend, at it turns out he's still in touch with a few other people that I used to know. (And now my inbox is filling up with their ham sandwiches, and notifications of their approval and support of each others' ham sandwiches and ham sandwich-related notifications.)

The great thing about Facilebook, though... is stalking your ex-girlfriends. Or at least, seeing what they're up to, for research purposes I mean. Lucy's there, for example. In fact, no sooner had I created my account than I had a friend request from her. I'm not quite sure what the etiquette of that is, but I 'accepted' her. (Just as she once accepted me, as it were. This is the only lover to whom I have ever revealed my transvestite side. As such, she'll always have a certain... fascination... if only as the girl with whom I crashed and burned so spectacularly, in the end. But she wanted to be my friend.)

I fear that Lucy (mother of two) will look at my life - or what little of it I choose to share at Farcebook - and consider that I've achieved nothing in the years since we split up. That whole parental "having kids is so very rewarding..." thing. Well, whatever. Why should I care what my ex thinks of me?

But I do. And that's weird.

previous - next

|