The Architecture, the People, the Laws, the Lovers on Facebook

By TRB

You have heard this tale before in some form or other. It begins with meeting the most beautiful girl in the world - as so many of these things do. My encounter with such a woman occurred near my home she was just walking down the sidewalk and saying something. It sounded like she was depressed. I forget what it was now, But like so many of the usual men I can not resist unusual beauty. I approached her and was almost startled by her beauty. Was she an actress, a model perhaps. My mind was racing as I tried to come up with something positive that might make this woman happier.

But I couldn't. And even though I still see her around and can say that her mere presence brightens my day, I know better than to try to get to know her. I am simply outclassed. And besides I have so many wonderful friends who say they would do anything for me, so I feel quite secure in my general well being.

I don't know if you ever had the experience of the tree hut; some as many as three stories high. You learned a lot from your friends up in those trees. How their parents were treating them, the various rumors of a stagnant upper class neighborhood where children really worried about whether dad made Partner or not. Boring.

And when your friends became too big for the tree house, there was always the field out in the middle of nowhere, where you could sit around drink beer, complain about school, talk about various colleges in which you might become imprisoned. And maybe if everything happened in the correct order you would find yourself alone with the girl who you had loved all the way back in the tree house days and you and she would experience something special together.

And that was your childhood - a progression of places to meet with your friends to pass the time, to get the word out, to listen to some music and talk about your favorite musicians, to develop strong friendships and maybe even fall in love.

But those days are over. or they are supposed to be. You have already done all of that. Adults can always join the VFW, the Masons and a dozens of other clubs if they want. But they will never get back to that "our gang" mentality of the tree house or of the field out behind the cemetery. As an adult, married or divorced you have responsibilities you didn't have back when you were rolling around in the grass with Judy or Darlene or whoever she was.

Maybe you have children and they have children too. The world has changed for you forever. And each passing year it will change a little more and you will make the adjustment and get on with your life. And while you are doing that you could join a community right between the covers of your lap top computer. You will see photos of the residents. Speak to them via computer messaging in various configurations. You may even get to know and like some of them, miniature pixelized images that they are. If you don't watch your step you might even fall into cyber love with one or more people along the way.

And to think, all that technology, all these years later and I still miss my tree house buddies.

You could actually touch those people, listen to them, see their expressions change when they spoke. It was unusual to be taken out of context because the tree house and even the old drinking hole were more intimate than Facebook will ever be. When you are on Facebook the rules are Facebook rules.

Facebook itself seems like a slightly Germanic and possibly insane Mayor who wants to know everything about every body who lives in the town. I mean everything. Perhaps this is because there are so many of these Facebook communities all around the world and they are just trying to keep track of who is who. I have heard there are hundreds of millions of us in this Facebook theme park and our minders like to keep a low profile to enhance our experience.

I can't tell you how my page came together, because I forget. Then it just sort of grew organically with a bunch of people I didn't like. So one day I deleted two-thirds of the community and began over. I have seen those Facebook pages where regular people have thousands of "friends;" I didn't want that. As a writer who has had some success I was told I could have a page of my own that no one could access. They could just press a key stating whether they liked it our not.

I wanted a community though.The really pathetic thing about that statement is that it's true. My idea was to keep it at 100 or so people, never more, and give them all a chance to get to know one another. You can see where we are going here. Naturally some people would like other people more than they should in this dramatic but virtual world. Their frustration would be great. And half of them probably wouldn't even have the guts to meet. Let's face it, some on Facebook don't use up-to-date photos and that 28 year old guy with the dreamy pixel eyes could just as easily be someone like myself, a 61 year old man whose own daughter is older than twenty-eight.

So there is this relationship part of Facebook that is rarely if ever successful. Then there is the friendship Facebook relationship which consists primarily of many communications taken entirely out of context so that many are left with slightly hurt feelings over events they can never be sure actually occurred. It can be good too, but like any relationship, you have to work on it.

So now I am back in my tree house, totally pixelized, playing records, having a good time, being called upon by friends through these communication devices which hang from what I like to think is the ceiling. In this "space" I tend to be very spatial, so it is normal that I would create this "structure" where there is none. Invisible architecture. Suddenly a red light lit up on the ceiling Someone has sent me a message.

I always have the feeling that I am sitting upstairs in what I imagine to be their office. So I go up there and I answer the person. Then they have nothing to say in response, so I just can't sit there at the desk waiting for an answer. This is a community where no one answers you immediately. Seriously, you say "good morning," and an hour after your breakfast they answer "Good morning to you too."

Usually, I go to my room. My room, which Facebook insists on calling my "profile" contains a lot of photos from my life but, as a former photographer and journalist probably only 100 or so photos, when I have 20 thousand. Somehow, I get the feeling of being completely alone when I am in this room. Suddenly the message light is red; the original message sender has finally come up with an answer to my reply. "that's right," he says (writes) but I was looking for a more complete answer.

I had run all the way upstairs for nothing.

One of the things about my site is the number of beautiful woman on it. I honestly can not remember saying, Hey Michael, why don't we just load the page up with the most beautiful women in the world and see what happens?

In fact, I didn't do that. It seems though, that I did it one time with one friend. On Facebook, whatever it is, you only have to do it once. I befriended a professional model. From that moment on Facebook kept sending me potential candidates for "friends" who were usually connected to this one professional model. Now I have a modeling agency.

But models are great. You know you have no chance. She lives in Spain or somewhere. Normally she would drop a quarter in your coffee on a street corner thinking you were a beggar. Models like music and clothes and style and art and are far more intelligent than anyone understands. I understand. Some of the most intelligent people on my Facebook page are models.

There is always the aging rock star or the even more peculiar rock star impersonator (usually very cool people), and the writers, and the DJs and the pro photographers, actresses, dancers, and the poets, and the - well, let's say they are a mixed bunch, my Facebook friends. But I like them all. I still have that sense of community thing - which I have been told makes no sense in cyberspace. But that's all right.

If this doesn't work out, I am building a tree house, a big freaking tree house, outback.