Missed Connections

You: black pick-up, waiting for an advanced green; me: waiting on the curb under my pink umbrella. The prog-rock rattling your rear-view mirrors shook me to the core. Message me, let’s have oysters and read poetry by starlight.

I don’t know art. But I know what I like. I like what I can relate to.

A couple of months ago I read an article about artist Stacey Williams-Ng who used her friends Facebook status updates as the inspiration for paintings. I love this idea. You can easily see the diverse demographic of folks on Facebook. There are those who disclose a little too much, those who use their updates for socio-political diatribes and campaigning, and then there are those who use their crafty little one-liners to the best effect, being poetic, sagacious, sarcastic and daringly witty.

They are also, incidentally, the people who thrive in the Twitterverse, my other home-away-from-home. It’s not just an abyss of otherwise useful time. It is a study in humanty, in the human condition. Kvetching, whinging, waxing, preaching, tweaking, freaking, gossiping, gorging, and a myriad other wonderful noises.

Exhibit B in the gallery of social wonderment: Craigslist missed connections. It is like the meeting place for the lonely-hearts club spelling bee drop-outs. People write poetry for perfect strangers! Poetry! For strangers! My love of all things bizarrely human (stemming, I allow myself to believe, from a solid liberal arts and anthropology background) keeps me going back. And to be perfectly honest, I would love to see what an artist could create from the inane, brutally misspelled, emotional meanderings (wink-wink, nudge-nudge).

I know you read Missed Connections too. Maybe you secretly hope you’ll see yourself in one. Maybe, like me, you are obsessed with the human condition and cannot get enough. Do you agree, is this art?

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