Facebook statuses, I write.

http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/842545

http://www.morguefile.com/archive/display/842545

‘I’m bored of writing,’ I write, into the accusatorily blinking Facebook status box. I drop the words into it’s post-box slot and release them into the abyss. I semi-pretentiously wonder what to write next, as if Facebook matters, as if it matters if I have quality thought out here.
No. Every day it more and more resembles a lost-and-found prison, painted in clinical blue, where some passers-by with hangovers typing in their memories and contacts from the party the night before. People sometimes lose themselves in here.
Even we, the cute ‘Facebook generation’, see the low-level fun of self-aggrandising, self-deprecating statuses is diminishing. There’s nothing to prove any more. Relationships move on, people forget, people don’t care, or if they do, it’s weird; we get it now. There is a time and a place for passive-aggressive messages. Was it ever Facebook statuses? Perhaps it was always post-its on the fridge.
Sponsored posts and company pages become the realm of the employable social media writers. The nostalgic innocence of idealistic University students indulging in vanity is swept away. I mean, grow up. We’re adults now.
The only people who give their statuses any (unpaid) thought any more are, like, professionally branded ‘writers’, or… people who don’t know much about Facebook, really.
Amirite?

B0ring Tweets vs Ricky Gervais; my appreciation, your treat.

Adapted conversation from when I introduced funny guy The Bunnybeater to… @b0ringTweets Versus @RickyGervais

Here’s Episode 6. It’s a particularly good one. Episode 7 was a bit of a let down after that, to be honest.

B: “I don’t understand.”

A: “You don’t understand?”

B: “I…I’m starting to be entertained by them, but I’m not sure why. But, not hugely entertained. Just a little.
“It’s odd. Perplexing. It’s like a joke I can almost grasp, but not quite.”

A: “Exactly! … When you actually laugh, that’s when you’re in trouble.”

B: “…You’ve actually laughed?”

A: “Right. So. If you read Boring Tweets you’ll see how its funny Gervais is trying to push his limits. Like a test of will. He caaaan’t keep up boringness. And Boring Tweets takes his time, it’s tense… Its like. That can’t possibly be manouevred to be more boring. But he trumps Gervais every time! The Olympics of being boring, as it were… And humour is basically playing with expectations, after all?
…Not that im really into it and thought about it much or anything.” *whistles*

*serious silence*

A: “It’s just so unfunny its funny, okay!”

B: “Oh you’re so very English.”

A: “How’s that very English?”

B: “The ‘so unfunny it’s funny’, the actively trying to find humour in being deliberately mundane. It’s a very specifically English trait.”

A: “Well… it is! I suppose Gervais captured that awkward social small talk unbearability in The Office. I love it because, well, it’s… kinda soothing. Reassuring. The mundane. Yet also so irritating. And that tension is the funny. You want it, but you don’t. You realise what a waste of time this is. You feel – really feel – the futility of life, spent in these boring (but not bored) moments watching the trusty monotonous photocopier machine repeat in The Office’s cuts or the pregnant pause for thought as Boring Tweets is warming up to say something utterly, resignedly, but addictively and hypnotically, pointless.
Isn’t this the very tragi-comedy of life itself?!”

LOOK. I’M DEEP.

A: “You know what else is pointless?
.. A blog post on this conversation! Yes! I love pointless blogging! It’s reassuring!”

*30 secs later*

Afterthought: Ya know, it’s not just the genuine believability of boring tweets, it’s the consistent cadence and right rhythm perfect for Twitter. I did linguistics of dramatic script at University for one semester and that paper would have had a field day on this.