“Don’t use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry.” ~ Jack Kerouac

I agree with Jack. Don’t call me.

Do you use your phone anymore for, you know, phone calls?

Phone calls are often jarring. Rude. Intrusive. Awkward.

“Thank you for noticing something that millions of people have failed to notice since the invention of the telephone until just now,” Judith Martin, a k a Miss Manners, said by way of opening our phone conversation. “I’ve been hammering away at this for decades. The telephone has a very rude propensity to interrupt people.”~ NY Times (read the whole bit, it’s worth it—and it mentions instances when folks still call)

So yeah.

“Don’t use the phone. People are never ready to answer it. Use poetry.” ~ Jack Kerouac

I wouldn’t advise using poetry, either. Text me. Email me. If you call, I won’t answer if I don’t recognize the number. If I do recognize the number, I won’t talk to you—I’m in the middle of something 99% of the time.

And I’m far from alone. My entire generation is like this—let alone those young’uns—according to the NY Times. And it goes beyond a generational thing, more and more—cell phone companies are redesigning phones without number keys, and with touch screens, reflecting the increased use of “extras” and the reduced use of actually calling anyone.

Wanna get something done? Text. Email. Use poetry. Just don’t call me…I’m not home.

Also, my ringer’s set to off.

Bonus: while most of our real life friendships move from phone to text, we sadly grow closer to our black mirror, our trusty TV:

Sometimes, it feels like my only true friend is my TV. ⁠
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Ohhhh television, you’re always there for me. When I turn you on, you reply—unlike most of my human friends. ⁠
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When I reach out, you offer the wealth of all your channels. I sit in your glow and waste away—sad, bored, entertained. ⁠
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With my human besties mostly living in other towns, or busy, I am in my town both popular generally and lonely specifically.⁠
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I’m lucky to see my human friends once a month. I reach out and connect them with one another and wonderful things I love and then they do those things with each other and…

…I am left with dearest you, Oh Best Friend, my trusty Television. ⁠
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And sometimes, yes, it is I who am too tired after a long day fighting the good fight—it is I who fails to go out. And even then there you are, black mirror—ready to illumine, to light up, to communicate in a way better than 96% of my friends. ⁠
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And this is modern society. ⁠
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A life spent waiting to live the adventures we watch. ⁠
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This is no life. ⁠
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But you, dear TV, do not take my lack of respect for you personally. You are there, stalwart, for me. That is love.