Running Into a Burning Building

Why I'm getting on Twitter in 2024

Well I did it. I created a new Twitter account. Yeah in 2024.

Why?

There’s a few dimensions to that: Why now, why X, why support that highfalutin fool of a one-time brilliant innovator who learned to love the redolence of his own hot wind and is now working diligently to melt the most expensive wax wings ever crafted?

Why now?

Because I’m chronically late no matter the occasion.

But now I have a book coming out at the end of the year and I need to build up my platforms with utmost haste. I’ve been exceedingly neglectful on this front, so now I’m playing catchup ball.

Hence the newfound regularity of these missives in your inbox. It’s all part of an evil plan to draw in a number of unsuspecting folks who might one day be tempted to read a novel about cocktails.

Why X?

It’s all about the words. Short telegraph bursts of wit and wonder. Leading interested parties deeper into the writer’s narrative. Or maybe to this substack.

Someone told me to think of X-ing like a journal of thoughts. Like the moleskines I fill with idea snippets and questions, only public. I was sold right there.

She also told me it actually is possible to be on Twitter without getting sucked into the fetid swamp…but you do have to be careful; it’s always lurking nearby ready to nab unsuspecting tweeters.

Good old days

My first venture into Twitter was a dozen years ago in San Francisco. It was 2012 and I was in grad school getting my MFA. Arab Spring was in full swing, and the Occupy Movement was building toward its loud and messy but ultimately meaningless crest.

Elon Musk was just a spark in the eye of malevolent forces stirring below the surface.

As a budding writer, I tuned into the new app for realtime updates on something that seemed big enough and global enough I didn’t want to miss it.

The Occupy San Francisco encampment downtown was expanding and growing restless, scheduling marches and bullhorn demonstrations, calling for volunteers to bring food and medicine.

All of it tweeted live. Various voices rising to prominence based on merit and value and connections.

Word went round that the encampment was about to be raided by a phalanx of riot-control cops.

I jumped on my bike and rode down Market Street to witness the historical event, absorbing the language and energy of it like a sponge.

Following tweets from some brave soul tracking the police maneuvers on foot and reporting live so the crowd could avoid getting kettled. Following the professors and civil rights lawyers observing from the sidelines. Following SFPD as well to keep up with the official stance.

All of which culminated in my master’s thesis—a novella with no verbs, about students sparking revolutions through time.

So what’s the point here?

Sure Twitter has changed a lot since then—much of what once made it priceless now flushed down the thirsty toilet of one man’s endless vanity—but it still has plenty of positive uses for linking people together to share ideas and hilarity.

So anyway…if you’re still on X, follow me and twit with me…til the bitter end.