Technotribe?

Posted on 28. May, 2010 by admin in Brandon Faber

Today I hang my head in shame.

I’ve been lying awake at night, struggling, grappling, fighting with my inner self – how could I have let this happen? How could I have been so careless, callous, unwittingly witless, insensitive towards progress, immune towards technology?

How could I have betrayed my generation in this way?

It’s not easy admitting guilt. You second guess yourself, time and again. You want to reach out to someone, anyone, a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, a bastion of sanity to confide in – yet, alas, fear guards the truth like an official government-sponsored inquiry into the so-called arms deal.

I’ve hardly slept for months.

I’ve become immune to the laughter of others, instead choosing to hide my shame in dark corners of obscure coffee shops – away, out of sight, out of reach from the long arm of modern justice which surely searches for me – constantly.

A life on the run is like an election poster without a smile, like an SABC report without prejudice, like the Sunday Times without its politically inspired mamaparras . . . it’s no way to live.

Darkness engulfs your days, nightmares ruin your slumber, claustrophobia finds you wherever you go – but the thought of revealing the truth, telling all, tearing away the mask of self-inflicted shame is just too heavy a burden to bear.

I’ve tried finding solace in reading ANCYL press releases and watching Parliament TV but, even that, failed to make me laugh. I yearn for a smile, for freedom, for the sustainable upliftment of my social wellbeing.

I’ve sat, quietly, weighing up the pros and cons of confessing my terrible transgression to my family, my friends and my fellow citizens. The conclusion being that it is better to live a life free from internal damnation, a life free from the stresses of keeping secret that which torments my soul, than continuing down this path of isolated shame.

Oscar Wilde said, “It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution.” I draw courage from the words of such a literary genius. I draw inspiration from the knowledge that “confession is the first step to repentance” and, with that – I am ready to beg for your forgiveness:

“Forgive me Generations X, Y and Z, for I have sinned . . . I do not own anything starting with an ‘i’”

Like a blind man at a Swingers Party you will find me on Saturday morning, browsing through music stores for CDs of days gone by and times present. My phone is not smart enough to tell me where the nearest pub is. My laptop the closest thing to that pad from the guys in the Apple orchard.

I think Twitter (for anything other than news) is for people with nothing to add to society. I think Justin Timberlake can have his lunch without me having to know what it is, how it tasted, and where he’s going for next for cocktails.

So, people, here I stand before you, armed with nothing but a phone to say “hello” and a few CDs to bring to your next braai.

With any luck you still use wood to make that fire.

Maybe we could even forget about the Wii and have a chat?