The stable, midlevel urban creative type produces himself online as an egoless cloud, holier than the oafish net, feeling nothing as he tosses links into the ether. He studies the moment with unfeeling anthropological distance, but is not himself a part of the madness. To feel things online is to hang a degrading “Kik me” sign on your back. In the moments of weakness when we do succomb to digital release, we slam our screens shut in post-climax shame, clinging to the supposedly more real space of the IRL.
Not himself part of the madness, hmmm. From Negotiations at the IRL/URL Border.