Party in a Shared Google Doc
Metadata
Highlights
- The social behaviours, rules, and rituals of other shared public spaces are on pause. In their absence I find myself role-playing them virtually in slight and silly ways. It’s like gently exercising something that for now lies dormant.
The other day a friend and I took a Street View city break to Athens. Starting at the airport train station, we pretended to set our bags down in front of a Greek WHSmiths while we checked our guidebooks to plan a route into the city. Reenacting these intermediary moments, the ones that are slight and easily forgotten sometimes feel the most evocative. (View Highlight)
The early commotion of the hallway has calmed down, and anonymous animals spread out across a growing number of sheets and rows. Some people make bonfires in the garden and start toasting s’mores. Others race each other to the bottom of “Sheet 14.” The cops have appeared on “the front drive”. I briefly stand alone on the dance floor tab. I change the queued-up karaoke song to Ginuwine’s “Pony” and dance my cursor solo around the floor.
I feel a creeping FOMO, wondering if something more fun is happening on another sheet. I click from tab to tab chasing the echoes of conversations. (View Highlight)- I’ve been here before, but just not in a spreadsheet. The feeling and memory the scene evokes are so familiar. The quiet end of a party where two stragglers, friends who didn’t know each other before the night began, sit chatting with a sentimental familiarity that comes from being tired and/or tipsy. I sit with them briefly before they say their goodnights. (View Highlight)
Party in a Shared Google Doc
Metadata
Highlights
- The social behaviours, rules, and rituals of other shared public spaces are on pause. In their absence I find myself role-playing them virtually in slight and silly ways. It’s like gently exercising something that for now lies dormant.
The other day a friend and I took a Street View city break to Athens. Starting at the airport train station, we pretended to set our bags down in front of a Greek WHSmiths while we checked our guidebooks to plan a route into the city. Reenacting these intermediary moments, the ones that are slight and easily forgotten sometimes feel the most evocative. (View Highlight)
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The early commotion of the hallway has calmed down, and anonymous animals spread out across a growing number of sheets and rows. Some people make bonfires in the garden and start toasting s’mores. Others race each other to the bottom of “Sheet 14.” The cops have appeared on “the front drive”. I briefly stand alone on the dance floor tab. I change the queued-up karaoke song to Ginuwine’s “Pony” and dance my cursor solo around the floor.
I feel a creeping FOMO, wondering if something more fun is happening on another sheet. I click from tab to tab chasing the echoes of conversations. (View Highlight)
- I’ve been here before, but just not in a spreadsheet. The feeling and memory the scene evokes are so familiar. The quiet end of a party where two stragglers, friends who didn’t know each other before the night began, sit chatting with a sentimental familiarity that comes from being tired and/or tipsy. I sit with them briefly before they say their goodnights. (View Highlight)