In the absence of friends, I create art. Years ago, this wasn’t a conscious choice. I just did it. But eventually, the choice becomes intentional and self-aware. Even if it takes 31 years, like it has for me. And now I see it clearly. Am I really choosing writing over people?

On a Thursday night, I’m tired and energy is seeping out of me. I’m at the place where it’s easy to mistake exhaustion for boredom. I ask myself: should I call a friend or plug in brain biopsy and talk talk talk to Facebook Live? Friend or Facebook Live? Friend or type in Notes app? Friend or scribble on back of city water bill?

Why don’t people (as friends) matter very much to me? They matter very much as readers. But not just as people. To walk, to have a beer, to have a talk. It’s not that they don’t matter at all. They do. If I’m in the mood. But 3 times out of 5, I’m in favor of writing and creating.

Why do I conceptualize community for community’s sake as a line of computer code that doesn’t compute? Why do I primarily view people as tools? Tool to babysit, tool to jump a car, tool to discuss diction and grow Diary, tool to discuss podcast, tool with book recommendation, tool with plant medicine, tool with restaurant recommendations in Atlanta.

Have I become a cyborg?

Even casual conversation for a Happy Hour drink, I want to be stimulating, challenging, educational.

In the absence of friends, I create art. Or maybe vice versa: I create art, and therefore cultivate very few friendships. Friend-time or write The Alt Dad Diary and wait for likes.

Friend-time or write and wait and hope and squint eyes together and pace wait more for Patreon supporters.

What does friend mean? Is it like unconditional love without the romance? Or if it’s conditional love, doesn’t that reduce the friend to a tool you use to get what you want? Last weekend, Kate pointed out that I’m a taker, and not a giver. Which is probably true. And something to work on.

Last night, I played this game with EllieRoo called Pull The Ball, Throw The Ball.

The dog leash is clipped to a ball that looks like a cage, except it’s in the shape of a ball. I throw the ball and then use the leash like a fishing line to pull the ball back. I say good girl when Ellie figures out she can pull the leash and get the ball. It only takes three times. Is this cruel? What am I trying to teach her? Why does she need to know the mechanics of connecting objects? To become smarter? To use this in her art? Why? Isn’t the race to smartness a race to isolation? Isn’t the race to learning a race to isolation? Maybe it’s just a predisposition I’m now seeing in myself that I need to be vigilant of and monitor motives and examine the example I’m setting in order to not put her in the same precarious position as me.

Have I, the hermitic introvert, used writing and technology to become some sort of human-indifferent cyborg? Or am I being absurd?


>>>GALAXY ANNOUNCEMENT Even though you didn’t sneeze, may all the gods bless you. Can I ask a wee favor? Let’s celebrate and share this sizzling cerebral cortex x-ray by SHARING SHARING SHARING. Click Share on the bottom right of this post and spread the seed. SHARE with your friends and family and sisters and the co-worker with the weird hair cut and boss/mentor who is a little on edge these days because they’re unsure about their station in life and even with your kids who are scrambling in the mud and dialing their brains into VR simulation one Snap at a time. SHARE SHARE SHARE. I’d ask for money on Patreon, and tell you that’s also a huge way of support, but I feel kind of bad asking for money, but listen how do you get money in the beginning without asking? I know the answer is get better content and/or be patient, but I think this content is good and I’m trying to be patient. If you have any suggestions, I’m all ears.


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