My Space Embargo

Above: The Remains of a Great Civilization

Trust me, I enjoy the comfort of the online social network as much as the next insecure suburbanite, but I've yet to join My Space. Actually, that’s not completely true: I do technically have an account to research bands who refuse to write press releases and to research random hookups who refuse to reveal their last names, but I’ve yet to create a profile for myself. Its not that I have an problem emotionally undressing online (as this blog surely proves) its that I’ve already invested too much time in Friendster. It feels like some odd form of cyber social climbing to switch this late in the game . Plus, I think its pretty creepy that My Space allows you to choose your top eight friends. It reminds me of that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry is vying for a top spot on his girlfriend’s speed dial---just unneeded social pressure.


Its been at least eight months since My Space first made a splash in my social circle and, so far, I’ve held firm. Maybe when the next version of Friendster/The Face Book/My Space hits the web I’ll get in on the ground level. Until then feel free to contact me by phone, e-mail, wikki, IM, text, evite, Friendster message or, even, through face-to-face contact. Just keep your My Space away from my place.