The internet, It's a compulsive itch, something to do to maintain the boredom, to procrastinate over doing something that matters -- as if any of us ever have anything to do that matters. I can feel my brain turning to swiss cheese. Check facebook, check gmail, check phone. It's strange to think there might be anyone out there listening. The internet is like a modern day message in a bottle.

Except once you throw that message out, it boomerangs back to you with comments attached. And you read them because you're compulsive and not quite ready to set aside the war over what, exacatly? Maybe that's why you can't let it go. You never quite understood what it was really about, anyway.