I have a Facebook account. And sometimes I correspond using Facebook — although it seems much less efficient than old-fashioned email to me. (Did I just type “old-fashioned email”? Oh, wow.)
But I don’t write on my “Wall.”
For those readers who are hopelessly out of touch, the “Wall” is a Facebook feature where you tell all your friends simultaneously what you’re doing right now. It’s always third-person, present participle: “Jay is going to the grocery store to buy bananas.” And the posts are generally about that interesting. And as my life is more boring than most (“Jay is typing yet another blog post.”), I don’t bother.
Nonetheless, there is a multi-million person market for knowing who is going to the grocery store and when. It must be a generational thing. And I have some young-generation readers. So I thought, what would today look like if I had time and energy to write on my Wall?
Jay is waking up and feels like dirt. Jay should have gone to the doctor yesterday even though Jay thought he was too busy.
Jay is checking his email while he shaves. Yes, Jay is addicted to his iPhone.
Jay is reading an email in which a preacher who preached revivals at the congregation where he grew up accuses Jay of being a “sectarian.” Jay thinks that’s the pot calling the bathtub black — you know, because Jay is as far from being a sectarian as possible whereas the preacher is not. And bathtubs are usually white, unlike the proverbial kettle. Jay is realizing that while this is funny to him, he’ll never be able to say it in a way that’s funny to anyone else. Oh, well.
Jay is reading another email. This one copies an Alan Highers email in an internet forum where he questions whether Jay and his dad are on the same page doctrinally — and Br Highers alleges that Jay “leans in a different direction” from Guy N. Woods (or maybe he means from Jay’s dad). Jay is astonished that his relationship with his father is of interest to an internet Bible forum and smiles to himself knowing he and his dad are on the same page. Jay has been going in a different direction from Guy N. Woods since college, maybe sooner. Jay has never thought Woods’ writing on the Holy Spirit made sense. Jay is thinking it’s strange that Br Highers assumes that Jay’s dad could not have been friends with Br Woods unless they agreed on doctrine, as this is not how Jay was raised.
Jay is reading yet another interesting email, this one from a retired tax professional regarding misuse of the housing allowance at some Christian colleges. Jay thinks he’ll look this up when he gets to work as it may be of interest to many readers.
Jay is waiting in line at a fastfood joint to get a biscuit. Jay really wishes he’d gone to the doctor yesterday but maybe he’ll feel better after an unhealthy breakfast.
Jay is reading an email from Edward Fudge declaring his post on “Contemporary Christian Music and the Apocalypse” “Fantastic!” Jay would be ecstatic that his spiritual hero likes his post, but Jay feels too lousy to feel ecstatic. Jay thought this was a risky post because it is such an unconventional way of arguing and thought maybe it wouldn’t work. Jay is relieved — which takes much less energy than ecstasy and so remains an available emotion.
Jay is checking out housing allowance rules at the office and discovers that the email he received is right. Very interesting stuff.
Jay is going home, too sick to work.
Jay is watching the room spin round and round and round from his sickness. The bed is completely unmade because no one knew he might be coming home sick and it’s laundry day at home.
Jay is reading email waiting on the bed to be made. Jay gets lots of email.
Jay is reading an email about an old post “Romans Taught Backwards.” The reader says he’s an “independent Baptist,” which he says is lot like the Churches of Christ. “It was like moving from a candle-lit corner to a room flooded with light. Many thanks for your effort and thinking.” Jay is wishing the room would stop spinning so he could enjoy the compliment and look up “independent Baptist,” because Jay has no idea what that means.
Jay sees a pingback from an unfamiliar blog referring to another of his old posts. Jay is wondering what a “geranium kiss” might be. Jay is discovering a reference to Bob Dylan too obscure for even Jay to get — and Jay is a big Dylan fan from way back.
Jay finds antibiotics delivered on doorstep and is excited — or would be excited if he weren’t so sick. But if he weren’t so sick, he’d have no reason to be excited. Jay is deciding that he is too sick to ponder the paradox.
Jay is very tired, especially of speaking of himself in the third person. Jay promises never to do it again.
Jay is going to bed.
Jay is drifting off to sleep, pondering the meaning of being praised by a Baptist while begin condemned as sectarian by a sectarian preacher. Another paradox. Jay decides his head hurts too much to think further on the subject. Maybe there’s material in there for a future post.
Jay is asleep.