The Fourth Wall

Somebody broke through the fourth wall.

Somebody reached from beyond the ephemera, beyond the electronic realm and into my reality.

Until recently, my interactions with you, my fellow bloggers, readers, have only been through comments, lurking and stalking.

For the most part, you only exist in my head where we are all attending a swinging, virtual cocktail party, discussing the latest must-see, must-do, must-trash. Paris Hilton’s ears must be ringing.

As with any congregation of bloggers, a group of people are discussing the latest meme.

(A meme of course, is a “thought virus,” which I think are popular because they’re mostly egoistic, self-serving, so about me, me, me. I don’t think it would be so popular if it was a "youyou," would it?)

In this virtual cocktail party, you are like the photo in your profile, the one you have chosen that best represents the you-ness of you: the studied casual attire; the brainy, come-hither expression; the diffused lighting; everything that says “slutty intellectual” (or is it “intellectual slut?” I get confused sometimes).

We converse animatedly in our natural stances: my chin casually resting on my fist, face tilted up and right (my best profile) with a small smile; you, looking over your shoulder, gazing slightly to my left, your mouth frozen in mid-laugh. Or, if you are a gay man, you are shirtless, your elbows raised, palms resting at the back of your head, biceps flexed--the classic gay male pose--as if auditioning for a underarm deodorant commercial.

Then, one day, I received a package.

A box from Amazon! It was a surprise. I wasn’t expecting any deliveries, otherwise, I’d have shaved my pubes for the UPS guy.

Later, after I douched, I quickly opened the box.

It was a book, “Dry” by Augusten Burroughs. The book was on my online wishlist. Jimi Sweet, a fellow blogger, looked it up and sent it to me. Jimi’s blog is one I visited for his amazing eye in photography.

I am always curious about other people’s wishlists and I never fail to check it out when I see one posted in a blog. I think a wishlist says a lot about you--your taste in music, books and movies. But I think it mostly says “greedy motherfucker.”

But mine of course, is posted here just so I remember all the stuff that I would like to buy for myself in the future. It most certainly is not meant for people to buy and surprise me on a special occasion like a birthday or Christmas or because it’s Tuesday.

I am not so obvious. If I wanted my friends to buy me stuff, I would do the proper thing, you know, by laying a guilt trip on them.

Things seem a little different now. Maybe it’s because the world is smaller somehow. Before Jimi, you were all ions bouncing around in my LCD screen.

Now, I don’t know what it all means.

But I hope it means y’all are gonna buy me more stuff.

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I've finished “Dry”, that's next.