gabby's playhouse

a gabby schulz & ken dahl internet repository

11-3-15

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6 Comments on “11-3-15”

  1. I love this! This happens to me quite a lot, much to the puzzlement of people around me. I miss you on Twitter, but I know it’s a terrible cesspit, so I can’t really wish too hard that you’d come back. But, I do.

    I’d love to see these diary strips printed and have great hopes and dreams that Sick (and more!) will be published soon. Anyway, I hope you’re well, Gabby. I love your work.

    • eyyy twitter! hi laila. i miss twitter sometimes but it was murdering my personal brand, and also my soul, having that much access to so many people’s bad opinions and anxiety loops. toward the end it just seemed like i was arguing with a bunch of other people who also spent all their time alone staring into their phones feeling slighted and were using twitter as a surrogate for love. it’s bad stuff. i feel a lot better now that i’m a lot less informed and a lot farther away from the private thoughts of statusmongers like m*** b*** and hysterical brutalists like p*** g******. i miss people like FTF and bryan tho — and you, naturally. but it turns out that having absolutely no social contact, digital or meat, isn’t so bad. as bad, anyway.

      thanks for saying hello though. it’s nice to know i’m remembered (besides all the people who remember me as a complete asshole). quitting twitter was hard because it made it clear that the connections i thought i was making with other human beings there were 99% illusory or disposable, and that most people just considered me a (admittedly caustic and unmarketable) caricature of negativity. i now spend most of my days tamping down my opinions about the world with irl coworkers and roommates, steeped in a persistent private hell. maybe i should get some fast-food sponsorships & start vining!

      anyway i hope you’re doing well out there. tell twitter i say hi.

  2. “I’m going to be 60 soon,” I thought to myself. “Shit, I’m already 57. What the hell have I done with my pathetic life?”

    This seemed a realistic assessment of my situation for nearly a full two minutes before I remembered that I’m actually only FORTY-seven.

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