My life is lived in a virtual world of distant communication with friends and strangers. This sentence will be read by a few people I know and most likely quite a few more that I do not. My presence on the internet is great in terms of time. However I am aware that I am a minnow in a vast ocean. My words might as well be stuffed into bottles and cast on the open sea.  I blog and write poetry and pretend that views and likes and comments don’t matter. This is art and I don’t need an audience but when a bottle washes up on my beach I open it with genuine interest. 

As well as writing I have my Facebook world. A happy legion of friends who would have been long abandoned by my itinerant lifestyle but are netted and subjected to my poetry, pictures and prose. This audience, captive and silent, may follow or me not. The different levels of Facebook friendship form a hierarchy that I am not savvy enough to comprehend or intrigued enough to engage with. The social niceties of these subtly nuanced distinctions are lost on me. On the Asperger Path you are either a friend or not a friend. 

Then there’s gay life. A dazzling array of apps that promise beefy masculine men that will change your life and bring you, dazed but beautiful out into the neon lit world over the rainbow. This Friend of Dorothy surrendered long ago and knows how dessicated those encounters can be. I am too fat, too out there or too gay for half of the gay community. I am also not enough of something else for a sizeable minority. Worst of all I am blanked, blocked or ignored in ways that make the harsh memories of early gay life seem like a rosy pink kindergarten. 

So here is my message in a bottle. I am virtually lost. I’m on the line and I’m on line. I’m out there, somewhere. Will you come and find me?


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