Tuesday, September 21, 2010

La Fass Book:
Torment of the Literary Thinker

Kofi Fosu Forson

Facebook has overcome me. I find myself on Facebook several times a day. I do know why and it's no mystery. I'm home there. People like me there. These aren't friends I sit with and drink coffee talk into the wee hours in the morning. It is virtual. I understand. We don't look each other in the eye. We don't touch each other physically. We do so virtually.

I've spent the better part of this decade virtually doing projects with people as far as Liverpool. That ended. Then I found myself on Facebook which was in a sense a continuation of this madness. Madness in a sense that what we accomplish whether theoretical or philosophical is done within a literary plain of psychical and virtual means.

Even the thing that is love has become virtual. I had my first virtual affair with a Mexican girl I met on Facebook. At first I wooed her into literary thoughts on love and art. Much of this stemmed from my years of seducing women into art. Soon enough we started live chatting on Facebook. Then I got her phone number. The long distance phone calls followed. She assumed the role of lover and virtual muse. She sent me nude photographs and a video of her stripping. We even went as far as to have virtual sex which means during the live chat we began to talk dirty and promptly masturbated in our respective homes while assuming the dialogue.

My problem with Facebook is that there are very few Fassbinders and Kieslowskis to be found. And if so people rarely spend time thinking profoundly. There are those who do but many of these people pose as thinkers. They present the occasional quote from writers past. It then forms a thread whereby people comment. I find that Facebook is not a place for literary thinkers. I continue to form this literary circle of people who love my updates and build a friendship. This becomes my virtual cafe where I share intimacy, friendship and even love.

The love that exists on Facebook tends to take on phantasmagorical proportions as it did with a Polish model who lives in Italy. Once again I seduced her into my world of love and art. But ours wasn't intimated on love and sex. I sent her thoughts and opinions and she responded with Hallmark like quotes. I was overwhelmed. But the physicality was missing. This was torment as our virtual ghosts were in love. If anything it played on my loneliness. I spent time fantasizing about her. Supposedly she spent time fantasizing about me as well. This was our sexual experience a means of psychical sexual torture. I promptly told her to "kill the ghost. kill the ghost" She now is among my 400 plus friends and we don't carry on like we did.

I feel I do benefit from Facebook as literary thinkers in society do so professionally whether they partake in a literary forum, tour as writers and artists. When it comes to Facebook people are keen on being carefree almost silly and irreverent. It removes from the nature of people actually thinking. But as matters go people love my updates and this to me is enough.

I tend not to care about my number of friends on Facebook as some people have as many as 5000. What I do hope to do is find another muse to carry on the notion of projects or even one day fall in love.

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