Continued: how weird is it to have mutual awareness of certain factual-aesthetic affinities, learned through the Internet, between you and someone else, and even share the same physical/real-life milieu, but still lack the requisite introductory interactions to begin a legitimate, real-life exchange? Meta-knowledge and free flow of information we have, the ability to act upon it I haven't (yet). Can't say hi, we're not even Facebook friends yet!

But, if you do try to talk to me, don't talk about my job that I see you at: and twice, even. And, drunk or stoned. You can do better, right?

If we're going to make a story up (which is exactly what I'm doing right now), let's at least make it a shade progressive and existential, like some fine modernist cinematic prelude that I know you'd appreciate, or, at least believe you would, based on the movies I've seen you rent. (You see what I'm doing here? I just imagined ideal circumstances based on divined knowledge! What's real anymore?)

The Internet has introduced infinite possibility in physical life, to the point of deliriousness; it has convoluted and expanded what used to be the simplest and most direct of feelings -- the semi-amorous crush. Our judgement hasn't gotten better; we just think we know more, and destroy ourselves under the weight of this new, unbearable, infinite, anxiety.