thevillagecharlatan

A rash of people from my past have contacted me via Facebook lately. I implicitly connect this with the holidays; people are bored at work and trolling FB looking for ways to get into trouble. In the same week I heard from: a) the boy to whom I lost my virginity [tenth grade on eyelet comforter listening to Beck]; b) the person who got me drunk, really drunk, for the first time on New Year’s Eve 1999 after using the keys to the independent video store to sneak us into the back room for vile cocktails and Tarantino on VHS - I know, so glamorous; and c) my next-door neighbor for my first year of undergrad, an alcoholic History major who yelled at me during orientation until I cried. Due to papers and grading and such, I have no time to respond to these people with due thoroughness (read: “WTF?”). It’s just sad that our culture of surveillance denies me the luxury of Never Hearing from Someone Again.

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