Well, this sucks. I won’t sugarcoat this or beat around the bush (a phrase that, when thought about for even half a second, is wildly sexual).
I have been blocked.
By who, you ask?
A stranger.
Why, you ask?
I do not know. For revealing the truth about the phrase ‘beat around the bush’? A good guess, except I literally just published that and time travel is ‘just not there yet’.
A dramatic reenactment
There I am, Saturday morning, doing my classic bumble tumble through the internet jungle listening to lofi classical waiting for a brigade of caffeine to burst into my brain and scream “LeTs GoOoOo!”
It’s fun, this hour or so I have before I get mad at myself for wasting it – here’s a link and there’s a post and hey look at this hot goss about how much this one person thinks that this other person sucks. Now, you should note that this drama doesn’t come to me on a silver platter. No, I must deduce it from context clues like a lil drama detective, clicking here, clacking there, and yes, now I’ve got it. I know whose feathers were ruffled and why, and I know as well who is in the right and who is wrong and also hey now here's a recommendation for something on Substack that's right in my cue zone I am clicking and I am about to read and – what the heck?
No – this is wrong.
“You are blocked”
Refresh the page.
“You are blocked”
Blocked? I am...blocked? No. This is a mistake. i don't even know this person how could I be blocked.
I refresh the page like I'm saying, 'can you swipe it again' to the waiter at a restaurant who just said my card was declined. My card could not have been declined, ‘tis simply not possible. I am a tax-paying highly esteemed member of this community. Larry, tell him. Larry god damn it where are you going? Larry, I offered to be your son’s godfather! Who cares if I’m Jewish, Larry, so are you! What, we can’t have Godfathers come on Larry. Larry!
I am stunned. How can this be? Me? The guy that everyone likes? Blocked? I open an incognito window and test the person’s page there (‘maybe he blocked everyone?’).
I can see the page.
I am. Blocked. Why? What did I do? I don't even fucking know this person why would they block me. ME?
Did I do something? I check my email for their name, perhaps I one night drunkenly, slovenly sent them a real piece of my mind. But I do not drink and I am not, as best I can recall, sloven. Nothing. No emails.
so then why the fuck am I blocked?
I cannot know, and yet I must. I consider writing a well thought through, kind, and generous email to this person:
Hey man! Alex here, you probably know me because, well, this is gonna sound crazy and obviously I know it isn't true because how could it be, but for some reason – some glitch – it's showing on my screen that you...blocked me? lol i know right? Like, why would anyone block me I'm one of the good guys! I'm a real little idiot guy who goofs around and is loved by all. I was gonna contact Substack directly and just see what was happening – these sorts of bugs happen all the time (I used to work in tech, can send you a quick CV if you wanna see/are hiring), but I figured it might be better to just hash this out the two of us so as not to give this thing any more of a Push into the pubic consciousness.
I don’t send it. Not yet. I need time to think about this. To brainstorm. Finally, I understand why people hire crisis management teams. I consider making a Notes apology explaining that although I obviously did nothing wrong, i am so very sorry and I do beg that everyone please unblock me.
I take a day away from it all to reconnect with what matters. I call my friends and family for the first time in a long time, and I spend a few hours on the phone with each of them asking if they have any idea why I might have gotten blocked.
They don’t.
I’m at a loss. I am lost. I am loss.
I can't just be walking around saying hi to people knowing that someone on the internet blocked me. That'd be insane and frankly, dangerous.
"Hey man, how are you!" a good friend would ask as we walk by one another, each holding our iced coffees.
"I'm ok…listen I think you should know. Someone blocked me online."
They'd scream and drop their iced coffee and run run run and never return.
This is absurd, of course. Say I'd been blocked by this guy for a while? It'd all been fine until I found out about it, but nothing had changed. So why would I get bummed now?
There is a book called The Courage To Be Disliked by Ichiro Kishimi and Fumitake Koga, which perfectly speaks to my obsessive tendencies that flare up here. I mean, I used to be so defensive and sensitive that I'd freak out whenever someone would give me what felt like even the slightest hint of criticism.
And what bigger criticism is there than the ONLINE BLOCK. It says, 'not only am I not interested in you, I want to ensure with 100% guarantee that I won’t ever see you again. It’s sort of like hiring a private security firm to make sure that no Alex content can ever make its way into your party-feed.
The book says that how people feel about you is simply not your task. You cannot control it. It's up to them: you have nothing to do with it.
He’s right, of course. I watch some NBA basketball and realize how important a part of the game ‘blocks’ are. They are rewarded, a rarefied skill. If someone had 3 blocks in one game, they were jesus christ superstar. Hakeem was the best, or so a few top ten lists tell me. I don't watch basketball that much anymore because I'm busy watching over the internet as a whole to make sure no one besmirches my good name nor god forbid blocks me.
But I realize, then, that blocking is okay. Blocking is good. It’s an NBA skill!
But wait, being blocked is still bad.
Anyways! I definitely still figured out the lesson, so if you’re the person who blocked me and are reading this, please know that I am very much healed. I am better. Whatever I did before I won’t do again.
No, I’m joking obviously. I realize now that anyone and everyone will be blocked by someone, sometime, somewhere. I’ve just blocked a few people just to prove that point.
I’m cool with it now. I love it. So go ahead, block me. Block away. Just let me know ahead of time if you don’t mind! Just so I know. Larry? Larry what the fuck did you just block me Larry I know your debit card’s PIN you dumb fuck.
Here’s a question — movies have trailers. Books do too. Even products. But why not short-form personal memoiristic essays? Here’s a first of its kind trailer for my next essay, coming to an inbox near you this Thursday.
A TRAILER FOR “First to Die”
“Wait, so improvisers just…never get paid?” I asked, backstage at the Hideout Theatre, my dreams of becoming a rich dude who did really good improv fading before my very eyes.
This was Austin, 2011, and everyone was laughing as if I’d just asked why volunteers don’t get paid to hang out with old people. It’s community service - you should be honored to stand in front of a crowd and do make-em-ups for 25 minutes based on the suggestion of “Dick Dynasty.”
“The murder mystery dinner dudes are always hiring,” one veteran said, adjusting his bright blue tie in the full-length mirror that stretched the entire wall of the green room.
***
Murder mystery theater is basically if “sleep no more” and an escape room moved to the suburbs and had a baby. Plus, you get dinner.
The setup is simple. About 45 people show up for dinner. Someone dies, two detectives run out and tell everyone to relax - it’s going to be okay, but someone has been killed and the murderer…is here among us. Over the multi-course dinner of chicken or fish, salad and bread rolls, more people die, clues are revealed, and finally the guests have to all guess who did it and why.
It’s the type of thing that’d make my Soviet parents go ‘huh’ and my grandpa very angry. ‘They’re pretending? That something bad happened? So they can solve it?”
But for Americankies, as my grandpa would say, it’s a fun atmosphere to let loose, slurp wines, and see what its like to be a realtor instead of an accountant.
I don’t remember auditioning as much as attending a rehearsal where I watched and nodded overeagerly for two hours until Mike, the guy in charge, then asked me if I was free next week for a show. Hell ya.
Paid subscribers will get the full version of this essay on Thursday. If you want to read it please subscribe!
Comments!
Has anyone ever blocked you either for no reason or for A Reason? How did you find out about it? Are you okay should we form a support group? I’m fine though it would be a support group for you.
You guys still like me, right? I feel like you get it but I don’t know maybe let me know.
Larry if you didn’t block me can i still be your son’s godfather? sorry I called you a dumb fuck i didn’t mean it pinky promise
Thoughts on this whole essay trailer thing? Feels like it could be a thing? But how can we profit?
What if they blocked you bc they are envious of your work and what you have created here and it’s “like looking at the sun” as I’ve heard you say about some (i.e. Tim Heidecker). Let’s spin it as a compliment, you’ve made it!
Alex that image!!! I was laughing my head off before I even started reading.
I'm sure I've been blocked a ton that I don't know about but if it was someone I came across that was meaningful to me it would hurt for sure. I recently was online heckled by someone who is not a stranger which made me feel like I finally became a 'real-internet-person' who had a hater. I write self help stuff and she suggested, very unkindly, that I was a hypocrite as I never supported her. I was bewildered as we were never friends and I haven't spoken to her in 40 years. Block and bless is what I did for her.
Maybe Larry at least gave you his blessing as he blocked you?
An excellent read, thank you. I will never block you!