I went to school with the person who wrote Dear Diary. The second one, I think. From Kindergarten to 12th grade, I think. And then she also went to a nearby college and lived in my ex’s dorm. And I should have spent way less time with my ex after she became my ex. The Editor-in-Chief of the mag also lived in the building. At least I know he used to have the position. Not sure about anymore. Her building had few rooms and shared a kitchen and a couple of bathrooms. It was called a “mod” or something.
It’s largely a ruse, but I do love question marks.
What lay behind those curvaceous characters, in this case, was: I’m not sure I understand how you got from “anonymous playground of hipster bullies” to telling everyone about the people you’ve lived with and describing the nature of their lodgings. It’s nice to know, certainly — a connection of human minds and lives around the globe, or something — but if we ever met in a bar I’d be concerned about asking you any direct questions, having seen your response to what was a fairly closed statement.
I don’t know, maybe I misread your intent. It read like a really bizarre instance of unwarranted namedropping, which is a thing that leaves me all shivery and consternated.
Oh, I was mentioning how I knew someone who wrote for Vice and the editor-in-chief long ago. I didn’t mention them by names and I’m not sure if it’s considering name-dropping if I’m talking about people who I don’t actually care for. But I’ve been known to get off the subject quickly. You seem to get shivery and consternated very easily.
After reading this, I then wasted a few hours reading Butler and DiTripeano. Franzen has more talent in his stool than either of you sophomoric, pretentious gasbags. Road to nothing fucking college boys. I’m swearing off this site before I puke. So long fuckers!