// rohitsrealm.com / archive / 2006 / 04
Considering my long and unabated exposure to the world of current events—my father read multiple publications daily even before the Internet—I suppose it was only inevitable that I would too one day succumb to the slippery slope of obsessive news junkie-dom. You can't say I didn't try, though.
As the perennial--and incorrigible--techno-elitist spendthrift, life is--and always has been--first and foremost about obtaining the latest and greatest newfangled gadget, often even taking precedence over the expenditures I have become better known for recently: obscene bar tabs and overpriced clothes. Thus, it should surprise no one that one of the most highly anticipated events of last fall for me was the chance to finally obtain the grand daddy of all newfangled gadgets: the coveted BlackBerry.
As many steadfast readers of rohitsrealm.com must have noticed, it's been a while since I wrote a compelling piece accosting the scourge of our society, the cancer that threatens to destroy us all slowly, painfully, unrelentingly -- dirty, crazy, drugged out bums. Fortunately, Brandon has stepped up, complementing my somnolence with three separate entries discussing the repulsive behavior of said scourge. Today, my much cherished sabbatical from the odious world of the bottom rung was brought to an abrupt and revolting end, when I went to pick up some sensitive documents for work in the Mission District.
Perhaps twenty years from now, as the pressures of mortgages, marriage, middle age, and mediocrity mount, I will look back upon the decisions I took in my early twenties with a mixture of regret and nostalgia, simultaneously pining for and revolting against the licentious lifestyle that came to embody my yuppie years. Certainly, the same cannot be said for the self-righteous hordes that look upon my actions with contempt and condemnation today, secure in their oft-preached, rarely practiced virtues of purity, security, and monogamy.
Perhaps the future for me holds nothing but repentance, but for the moment, there are no apologies, no remorse, no contrition. You see, dear reader, for my colleagues and I, philandering isn't so much an indulgence as it is a necessity, borne not of desire, but of decree.
The Wall Street Journal last Monday had an interesting article discussing the travails of modern breakups in the light of the pervasive technologies of the 21st century, and moreover, the ends to which people go to delete, both metaphorically and literally, their former significant other (a/k/a exso
) from their lives. I don't think it should surprise any of you that I have something to say about this, considering it has to do with two topics near and dear to me: technology and (the failure of) relationships.
