Last week in Los Angeles I participated in a live Q&A as part of an ASCAP expo on songwriting. When the topic of Twitter came up, I explained my waning interest in it being part of my daily life. By no means do I think it’s over as a medium altogether, but I do think that the days of “Twitter: The…
A few months ago, I happily read this post by the lovely John Mayer. Gone were the constraints of trying to a) convey who I am and b) say something funny enough to warrant a response - all in 140 characters (I usually need roughly 150 for that, plus some wing dings, so you see my problem.)
But I couldn’t do it right at that moment, obviously! I probably had a test to study for or whatever it was that I did way the fuck back when I used to be a college student (read: two weeks ago). So I put it off until the next day, and then I realized I rarely write in my ~*~tumblr~*~ and what if JM couldn’t get the context he yearned for and then didn’t follow me?
I still don’t have that context. However, I’m going to tell two JM anecdotes and hope they suffice in convincing him that if he ever needed a place to sleep, I would give him the memory foam off my bed and let him sleep on my floor, and also let him use my towel warmer in the morning. Or whatever friends do, I don’t know.
1) In 2007, I went to a concert of his in Boston where he said some profound things between songs. After this, I got extremely (clinically, I believe) depressed because I came to the unbearable conclusion that due to the astronomical number of people that love JM, it was statistically very unlikely that we would ever become friends. This is really funny to me now, and it was then too, because it reminds me of the emotional dysregulation present in the video of the 3 year old sobbing over Justin Beiber, and yet! for about ten days, I was melancholy and passed the time by youtubing things like, “John Mayer talking at a concert.”
2) This past winter, Nadine and I saw JM in concert again and I had to take a prophylaxis SSRI for 3 weeks beforehand to avoid a repeat performance of ‘07. Before the concert began, I decided to make a poster that said, “I’LL DROP OUT OF MIT FOR YOU. CAN I HAVE A HUG?” Except I forgot to get a sharpie, and so had to use the only one sold in the convenience store across the street from the venue, which was a fucking mini key chain sharpie. Long story short (but why start now?)-Nadine’s boyfriend convinced me that I didn’t need to color in every single letter because obviously he’d be able to see it, and anyway, he probably wouldn’t read it.
Of course, he did read it. And do you know what he said?
“All I can read is…MIT drop out…hmm I guess you did drop out of MIT, because I can’t read your sign.”
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