Shoes, Books & Cynicism
Kate Stone Matheson
The Wax That Melts Our Wings

I’d say it’s what separates us, not from the beasts, but the bestial. Creating the future, renewing a learned past - these are reasons to strive. Writing for and with love, taking and framing an image, stretching new melodic skins onto old skeletons of song… it’s how we manage to fly. It’s how we stay you and me, not us and them.

The Wax That Melts Our Wings
Shoes, Books & Cynicism
Kate Stone Matheson
The Lady Jellypants Guide to Grace and Poise

Unlike Osk, who seemed to establish his own tactical task force wherever we lived, scooping up neighbourhood feline troublemakers as sidekicks (including the memorable ginger behemoth Watson, with whom he used to scope the street from the safety of the shed roof), Jelly has the intelligence gathering skills of a sponge cake.

The Lady Jellypants Guide to Grace and Poise
Shoes, Books & Cynicism
Kate Stone Matheson
Love Me Tender

Anyway, somewhere in between my 'and then you should've done this' and 'why didn't you say x and y, rather than z', and 'for the love of monkeys and the general public's eyesight, you didn't honestly wear that heinous shirt did you', something he was saying about the dating extravaganza we were picking to pieces finally penetrated my cloud of self-congratulatory cumulo-waffle. 

"Most people don't talk about how dates are progressing as a tender process, do they?" he asked. 

"What?"

"She said I was 'part way through the tender process' and that she was judging me on my submission. I'd like to think there was irony involved, and I think at the time I may have given an admittedly weak "haha, yesssss, quite". Looking back, I'd have to conclude, computer says no on the presence of Fabulon or other aids to achieving crisply pressed linen."

Love Me Tender

Status

Letter To The Non-Editor

Dear Facebook

As a faceless entity who already has the power to influence the liking and disliking of almost any product, photo and person on the planet, I think you need to take a long, hard look at yourself.

Because I am about to press 'dislike' on you.

I realise the relative paradox of posting the link to this blog on you, considering the vitriol I intend to spew forth in your general direction, however, needs must where the devil drives, and so on and so forth. Use your enemy.

I was a latecomer to the Book of the Face. Hard as it is to believe, given my chosen career path, my natural love of the printed word and Luddite-ish tendencies kept me away from anything that involved the words 'social' and 'media' together for a very long time. But of course, like any addictive substance, you lured me in with your promises of witty exchanges between old friends (true) and the ability to stalk complete strangers because my friends think they're hot (also true - scary but true).

But now, my dear FB, you have taken the partnership and stamped on it. Disrespect has no place in my one on one relationships, and you have shown me no love of late. Timeline... having to re-set all of my security settings ad infinitum... we could have worked it out, Booky Wooky. But no. You had to add insult to injury, and start the monstrous perversion that is, one might say, the straw that broke the social media llama's back.

"What's on your mind?"

"What's happening in your day?"

You really don't want an answer to these queries, FB. Because the answer will be both full of naughty words and ripe with criticism of your empty questions. However, since you asked:

STOP ASKING ME STUPID ARSE STUFF. NOW. OR ELSE. I CAN UPDATE MY STATUS WITHOUT YOUR HELP. MY IQ IS MORE THAN 33, AND I STILL HAVE AN INTACT FRONTAL LOBE. SO SOD OFF, YOU BEHEMOTH OF BUSHWAH, AND LEAVE ME ALONE.

I can live without you Facebook. I actually can. People may scoff at this, but it's true. I did it before - and I can definitely do it again. So you want to know what's on my mind... see the above. The reason I use Facebook is because I am interacting with people, not a program. 

Don't pretend you care facebook.com - just sit back and be the Great and Powerful Oz.

I like my friends asking me stupid arse stuff (no offence friends).

Not a machine.