Twitter never appealed. I hadn’t the time, or desire, to follow the trivial movements of celebrities, nor was I inclined to read a summation of my friends’ drivel. But this all changed when I discovered Twitter’s charitable gift: The gift of a voice to millions previously ignored.
I knew people liked to tweet in the misguided belief someone cared, but when examining the nutritional information on the back of a Milo tin I was drawn to a bright blue demand: “Follow us on Twitter”. I blinked twice, but the request remained. Surely it was a mistake.
As the day proceeded my Weetbix, my milk and even my new cycling gloves made the same request: “Follow us on Twitter”. I pondered the possibility that these inanimate objects actually had something to say and wanted to say it to me. So, I went into the world and found everything from handbags to horseshoes wanted me to follow them on Twitter.
I couldn’t help but wonder what these items, previously silenced by their lack of consciousness might have to say.
So I followed Vegemite.
Initially I was tentative. I’m not comfortable following anyone, aware that my interest in 'things' had previously led me down the path of obsession. But I forced the fear of court orders and yet another stalking conviction from my head long enough to read Vegemite’s Tweet:
“Nice bit of me smeared on #toast. A little left in @butter. LOL.”
I freely admit I was disappointed. This classic Australian spread, though candid, offered nothing new. But on re-reading I noticed that @butter was blue and clickable. I didn’t want to ignore the hyperlink, perchance I offend it, so I clicked.
@butter: “So much better than in the udder”
and
@butter: “@stephenfry is my hero!”
I found myself desperate for depth, searching for substance.
I followed every inanimate object I could find: @lamp, @bridge, @spring, @jeans, @carpet, @rag, @hydrant, @shoe, @chryslerbuilding… It wasn’t long before my Twitter timeline was swamped with rabid nothings:
@cabanossi: “Stuck in the #fridge. Waiting for the light to come on.”
@A4paper: “On my way to be #recycled. I could have been re-used IMO.”
@A4paper: “On my way to be #recycled. I could have been re-used IMO.”
My desperation turned to detritus as I read that @bread was crusty, and @cheese was feeling blue. I wiped a solitary tear when my iPhone announced another tweet.
My God…
It was Twitter itself.
It was Twitter itself.
@twitter: “Screw it. I’m done.”
Four words with an eerie gist. Despite my trembling thumb, I managed to respond and ask for more details.
@twitter: “Ever heard millions of voices that weren’t there? It’s over.”
Although I was struggling to understand the uprising of the incidental and the idolisation of triviality Twitter imbued, an urge existed within that feared Twitter’s demise.
@twitter: “It’s impossible to say anything meaningful in 140 characters. I’m encouraging #inanity.”
@me: “Don’t do anything rash @twitter. The #world is #addicted to you.”
@twitter: “I’m ending it.”
I immediately Googled for profound quotes under 140 characters to prove Twitter wrong. There were heaps. I started sharing tweets from @Oscar Wilde, @Nietzsche, @George Bernard Shaw, @Martin Luther King Jr.…
@twitter: “They’re all dead. All people talk about these days is what they’re eating and details of their bowel movement.”
I pleaded with Twitter to meet me, somewhere outside its 140 character limitation. But Twitter said no. It was convinced it wasn’t real in any real sense, more of a medium as opposed to something physical. I asked how anything with over 200 million followers could not be real. This only seemed to deepen Twitter’s sadness.
So I changed tack. If Twitter isn’t real enough to convene in reality, then I must become virtual and go to it.
So I extracted my soul, every part of me that cannot be touched – the intangible me.
So I extracted my soul, every part of me that cannot be touched – the intangible me.
I felt light – but I had no eyes. I couldn’t see a thing. I also couldn’t type on my iPhone. I was in the ether.
This was going to be harder than I thought.
@intangible_me: “Hello? … Twitter?”
@twitter: “You came.”
Not so hard after all.
Not so hard after all.
We embraced.
We connected.
We became one. One. One.
One and one makes… one.
One and one makes… one.
@twitter: “Thank you.”
A flash. Then another. Flames. Shapes. Letters. Lots of letters. Mixed and unclear – like a poorly pasted ransom note. But the more I observed, the more there was, the more I absorbed. The letters linked to become words; the flames formed sentences; the flashes forged paragraphs. I was suddenly surrounded by conspicuously annoyed notions, pissed off phrases, ideas, articles, journalism, books, amazing concepts and astounding stories – all exploding with impatience. Bloody hell!
The true magnificence of the situation dawned on me.
The true magnificence of the situation dawned on me.
I was surrounded by the billions of wonderful words that have been locked away by Twitter’s character limit.
Crushed by the realisation of Twitter's crime I ended my embrace with the social media, shunting all that had passed between us.
Everything had changed. Yet nothing had. But I understood.
Confused sadness.
What had led Twitter to withhold so much of importance, so much profundity?
What had led Twitter to withhold so much of importance, so much profundity?
A pensive pause then Twitter shrugged.
@twitter: “it’s what people want."
@intangible_me: “Why @world? Why?”
@twitter: “it’s what people want."
@intangible_me: “Why @world? Why?”
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