Monday 11 July 2011

I +1 you

Cheerful, advert-packed and privacy-invading Facebook.  The addictive hashtagging stranger-stalking fun of Twitter.  The gleaming white and gaping white and empty white of Google+.  And now this very blog.

So, accepting that I can only wring a finite amount of amusement from my just-in-Zone-1 existence, where should I put the best bits?  Should I scatter the jokes and highlights around each of them?  Or should, say, Twitter be a masterwork of vas deferens-damaging chortledom, whereas Facebook could house all my upsettingly prosaic mind-jetsam.  'I seem to have run out of milk'.  'I quite like some of Coldplay'.  'At what point should I go to the doctor with it?'.  Etc.

Or should I post the same thing on all of the platforms, ensuring that every single person I electronically know is exposed to the same level of brain-alteringly witty give-that-man-more-sex banter?  This would however mean that anyone who knows me on more than one forum would get bombarded by a face-hurtingly repetitive barrage of identiupdates.  YES I KNOW YOU HAVE RUN OUT OF MILK.

And this leads to the problem of terminology.  I follow people on Twitter.  People can be my friend on Facebook.  People, very few, very damaged people, are the audience of this blog (or, as I like to call you, traffic).  Not sure what it's called on Google+.  Perhaps you circle people.  But, given Google+'s design ethic, any text describing this would be in white on a white background.  It's sooo empty.  It's like spending a Wednesday in a caravan filled with foam.

So, anyway, I have decided that where I place things will depend entirely on their length.  Tiny thoughts: Twitter.  Mediocre-length updates: Facebook.  Cascading logorrhea: here.  Which leaves what for Google+?  Quite.


Yes, you *do*.


2 comments:

  1. Posting a comment on my own blog, just to see if it works. Honest.

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  2. I *do* like this...although I doubt Mao would. You can put my dedication in working out how to post here down to the epicness of your blog, or the mediocrity of Britain's Next Top Model, whichever you're more comfortable with. J.

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