Myspace
Tried to make a myspace page the other day. But then I gave up. Something about going out into the net to find a layout. Codes and generators. I grew frightened and gave up. Another day, I thought, I’ll make a myspace page.
Then, last night, a terrible thing. I discovered I had made a myspace page. By accident. Somehow, just getting started had made it happen. And there I was, half-formed, no photo, no interests, just a star sign and a Friend named Tom. I don’t even know any Toms. In the bottom left-hand corner of the page, I announced that I don’t want kids.
Well. The state I was in. Trying to close down that myspace. I think I did it in the end, I think I no longer have a myspace, and I worry about Tom, but mostly I feel chilled at what could have been.
If I had not found that myspace. If I hadn’t got there first and closed it down.
One day, I’d have woken up and Charlie would have been gone.
Hours, maybe days later, I’d have found him, crawling along the footpath, his little red elephant tucked under his arm.
"Charlie," I’d have said, "I don’t understand. Why are you running away?"
His lower lip would have done that trembling thing that it does when a toy makes a sudden, loud noise. Then he would have composed himself, turned his face away. "I saw it online. You don’t want any kids."
"What? What are you talking about! Who said that?!"
"It’s okay." He’d have given a proud, little shrug. "You did. It was on your myspace. You don’t have to explain. I’ll go live in that play area near North Sydney oval. The one with the spinning things and the drums for kids to play with? I liked it there. I’ll play with the drums. I’ll be fine."
My poor, confused, brave little boy.
In the end, I suppose it would have been nice. We’d have cleared up the misunderstanding and hugged, cried, and so on. Eventually, we might have laughed about technology and default settings, and then we’d have headed home for some mashed banana.
But still. It really makes you think.
Then, last night, a terrible thing. I discovered I had made a myspace page. By accident. Somehow, just getting started had made it happen. And there I was, half-formed, no photo, no interests, just a star sign and a Friend named Tom. I don’t even know any Toms. In the bottom left-hand corner of the page, I announced that I don’t want kids.
Well. The state I was in. Trying to close down that myspace. I think I did it in the end, I think I no longer have a myspace, and I worry about Tom, but mostly I feel chilled at what could have been.
If I had not found that myspace. If I hadn’t got there first and closed it down.
One day, I’d have woken up and Charlie would have been gone.
Hours, maybe days later, I’d have found him, crawling along the footpath, his little red elephant tucked under his arm.
"Charlie," I’d have said, "I don’t understand. Why are you running away?"
His lower lip would have done that trembling thing that it does when a toy makes a sudden, loud noise. Then he would have composed himself, turned his face away. "I saw it online. You don’t want any kids."
"What? What are you talking about! Who said that?!"
"It’s okay." He’d have given a proud, little shrug. "You did. It was on your myspace. You don’t have to explain. I’ll go live in that play area near North Sydney oval. The one with the spinning things and the drums for kids to play with? I liked it there. I’ll play with the drums. I’ll be fine."
My poor, confused, brave little boy.
In the end, I suppose it would have been nice. We’d have cleared up the misunderstanding and hugged, cried, and so on. Eventually, we might have laughed about technology and default settings, and then we’d have headed home for some mashed banana.
But still. It really makes you think.
