INTERVIEW WITH A YOUNG MANHATTANITE WHO RECENTLY RETURNED TO FRIENDSTER AFTER HAVING LEFT IT WITH MUCH FANFARE MONTHS AGO.
Q. We hear you reinstated your Friendster profile. Did you think we wouldn't notice?
A. I was hoping to slip under the trend-police radar and claim I never left. (I also shaved off some years from my age in the profile. Did you notice that?) But really, once Keepers of the Hipster Vanguard like Casey Spooner jumped on my maiden "get off the Friendster" bandwagon I immediately wanted to join back up. I resisted, mainly because of some press in the
Philadelphia Weekly and it was purported that Salon wanted to do an interview too but naturally that fell through. Personal integrity issues kept me off. Now I can't believe I've sunk to answering your questions again.
Q. Why did you come back? Was it the testimonials? The hot 23-year-olds? What?
A. Life-devaluing depression. I have absolutely nothing to do at work and the shitstorm of my routine existence was proving too much to cope with rationally. I was naming daily suicidal urges like hurricanes. So I started seeing a therapist, she put me on Zoloft, and then made me try online dating again. It was either Friendster or JDate. Have you seen those Jew girls trolling the personals? Pretty fuckin' beat.
Q. Have your social prospects improved since you returned?
A. Yeah but it has nothing to do with Friendster. Honestly, I think it's the Zoloft. I'm now back on the downtown bar circuit with newfound confidence, or perhaps a complete lack of self-awareness. Either way, it seems to be working. I even hooked-up with a 21-year old art school student. The government should air-drop meds over Manhattan like napalm.
Q. Do you think you've compromised your street cred by returning? What would you say to the arbiters of cred in your defense? Should we meet you at Pianos later?
A. My street cred is sling-and-arrow-proof chainmail armor. It's so shiny and magnificent that even your mortal reflection would look like Naomi Watts in it. If you want a more modern metaphor for my cred then I'm the track marks on the arms of Johnny Thunders and Richard Hell, a Vice Guide to Fukin' Shit Up, and "Been Livin' On The LES Since You Lost Your Virginity In A Midwest Basement" all rolled together in a Rosario's frankie-n-cheese. Nothing short of being caught on a sex tape with Rosie O'Donnell could damage me.
Q. How many people are in your network now?
A. 500K the first day I came back after connecting to just 10 friends. That's more than twice what I left with when I had over 40 "direct" friends. I'm sure there's a sociological point fused by logistic regression to make here but my head hurts and I feel like taking a nap.
Q. That's a lot of freaking people. Do you think you're up for that kind of action?
A. The comeback party was over before you could say, "experiencing technical difficulties." My fascination with the second tour of Friendster duty lasted for about a week. I wrote some messages but girls weren't nearly as forthcoming as before.
Q. Are you now more or less fashionable than instamatic jockey Terry Richardson, who recently
bailed Friendster for the same reason you did months ago?
A. If I was able to persuade Frankie Rayder or any other model to drink Negroni and pull her pube-peeking panties down a wee bit while I snap photos, then I wouldn't be searching the goddamn Internet for one more minute.
