On Friends (Who Are, Let's Face It, Probably the Only People Who Read This)

It is not easy writing a blog when you are not a somebody. I imagine it must be easier for someone who’s famous, because they look at their stats, see that legions of people are reading their stuff, and have a real sense of having had an impact on those lives, no matter how small. A fan base is a cool thing.

It’s nice when you have a fan base outside of your friends. I have no such thing. According to Weebly Stats, I get, like, forty to eighty views on my blog a day, but these figures are notoriously inaccurate, and the number of actual views is probably far lower. 

(Okay, admittedly, when I wrote about The Salem Willows Horribles Parade, I supposedly got, like, 300 views, because some folks who are far more popular than I am--and have far more friends--shared it. That was really nice. Of course, once again, that number is probably inflated, but it was still a lot more than I usually get...so it was still really nice.) 

I have probably not helped things along by unfriending virtually everyone even remotely associated with my childhood in Great Neck, New York. 

Some of these people were really, really not happy with this. It is amazing how hurt some people can be when you unfriend them. 

Look, let me put it this way: in Great Neck, a kid who was a peer counselor repeatedly asked me why I had not killed myself, and why I was not receiving hormone shots, as I looked a great deal younger than I was. I almost included a link to his page at the hospital where he works (he's a doctor), but then I figured, nah.

I at least give him this: he did not try to friend me.

There were many other incidents like this involving many other people. In most schools, it would seem, there are those handful of kids who everyone goes after. I was one of those kids, and did not have telekinetic powers, unfortunately. 

This can make you have problems with your hometown. It can also cause the slightest reminders of your hometown (read: people from high school who were Facebook friends) to bring on a great deal of bad memories. That’s just the way it is. 

But anyway...back to friends reading my blog (not Facebook friends, but real friends with whom I happen to be friends on Facebook). Right. That’s what I was writing about. 

Here’s the thing: I so wish that my friends blogged more. I also admit that I kind of wished that they blogged in the glib, lightweight style that I blog, where the paragraphs are short and the words are simple. 

It is a complicated world...I like some glibness from my friends every now and then. 

What I’m saying is that when you blog and know that you’re readership doesn’t go beyond your friends, it’s kind of like you’re writing this letter to yourself and a couple of other friends. It’s kind of like writing a newsletter for maybe ten people. I like learning about little things going on in the lives of my friends, so I guess this is a way for friends to find out about what's going on in my life.

It’s amazing how much more stuff is newsworthy when you’re just writing for ten people. 

Two days ago, my dad and I went and saw “Jason Bourne.” There were many shots of computer screens with a lot of computer code on them, and large computer monitors with world maps indicating that large government agencies were spying on people. 

People hit a lot of computer keys. A lot of them. Matt Damon beat people up and drove cars really, really fast. 

Tommy Lee Jones looked ancient. 

Midway through, I turned to my dad and said “Dad...I have no idea what is going on this film. None. It’s kind of like a visual representation of a really paranoid person’s mind as they spend the entire weekend alone, doing crack.” 

He laughed.

"I was going to say the same thing,” he said.

See, if I didn’t know you, you wouldn’t care. But friends like this sort of thing. And it goes both ways: if you’re my friend, I find that a bit of news about taking in a film with your dad the kind of news I want to read about. 

Speaking of which, we checked out “Mr. Holmes” yesterday. When it was done, I turned to my dad and excitedly said “that film was perfect. I mean, plot, dialogue, theme, acting...that film was so good that it was life affirming to think that people can create something that satisfying.”

“Yep,” Dad said, nodding. 

“This is really awesome,” I said. “I mean, here I am, getting over a divorce, and I’m here with my Dad, watching this awesome film after having seen a terrible film the night before. I mean, I love seeing any film with my Dad, but I tell you Dad, seeing a film like this, as opposed to ‘Jason Bourne’...life is good.” 

“Yep,” Dad said, smiling.

That is what is new at the moment. Nothing dramatic. Just saw an awful film with my Dad, and then saw a great film with my Dad. 

And oh, yeah, came home from being out of town for a few days, and the person taking care of my cat--whose last visit was two days before I came back--closed the bathroom door, which is where the litter box is. My cat used the futon as a substitute for the litter box.

I can laugh about it. I take this as a sign that I’m coping with post-divorce life pretty well.

Besides, compared to having someone in high school repeatedly tell you to kill yourself? Small potatoes. 

So. Yeah, that’s my news for the moment. There will be more. 

Perhaps most people have no desire to read this. Friends, however, do. 

For giving my writing some sort of purpose, I thank them.