Fakebook by Dave Cicirelli Read Free Book Online Page B

Cicirelli It definitely was! Thanks so much.
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    Dave Cicirelli
Leaving the city of brotherly love…Which I got none of from my actual brothers. The family is pissed…
    Oh, and I was planning on staying longer, but then shit went down. See I was in west philadelphia, on the playground is where I spent most of my days. I was just, you know, chillin’ out maxin’ relaxin’ all cool. Shootin some b-ball outside of the school. But then…

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    Jennifer Davis …a couple of guys they were up to no good started making trouble in your neighborhood. You got in one little fight and your mom got scared she said…
    2 hours ago via mobile · Like
    Ralph Cicirelli Dave, Your Mom said “COME HOME. You’re being an idiot. I’ll make you Lasagna.”
    2 hours ago · Like
    Joe Moscone You were better off avoiding that shithole of a city entirely; it’s America’s equivalent to Mogadishu.
    2 hours ago via mobile · Like
    Kaedi Flanagan Joe, I can always count on a good laugh from you on these Dave posts. Keep ‘em coming! Oh, and Dave, your updates are hilarious, too.
    about an hour ago via mobile · Like
    Dave Cicirelli No, Joe…That was Camden. That’s the place I didn’t hike through…I ran through it. Haha.
    about an hour ago via mobile · Like
    Mark Cicirelli Bro, you’ve got to earn this love. By the way, word of advice: don’t steal Mike Tyson’s tiger. It’s just going to end badly. Trust me.
    about an hour ago via mobile · Like
    Dave Cicirelli And Mark, as always you give sound advice. I’m not doing this for your approval, but perhaps, when I return one day you’ll be able to say a kind word to me without guarding it with sarcasm.
    It’s not easy being the artist of the family.
    45 minutes ago via mobile · Like
    Joe Moscone Oh for Christ’s sake, Dave. Maybe you can take a waaambulance cross country?
    32 minutes ago via mobile · Like
    Dave Cicirelli What is it Joe? Is it that you have no depth, or is it that you only pretend to have no depth. I can’t tell.
    less than a minute ago via mobile · Like
    With this, I was ready to figure out exactly what it was I’d started. I began to see Fakebook as a real-time, virtual On the Road in the form of a twenty-first-century “War of the Worlds” broadcast. It was an entirely new medium of storytelling—a medium meant to capture your passing thoughts as they happened—to an audience that didn’t know it was an audience.
    But this new medium needed different rules and different goals than a movie or a novel. I wanted to push my story into strange, impossible-to-believe places. To do that required a longer, more disciplined approach, and I needed to respect the timeline of actual events.
    Six months, I decided. Fakebook would go on for six months, giving me the chance to end it on April Fools’ Day. It was enough time for my online persona to start living a different life. We needed to be different people.
    And to write a different person, I needed to get inside my protagonist’s head and acknowledge the realities of his life. I needed to start treating the situations, as absurd as I was going to make them, as real events happening to a real person.
    It had been fourteen years since I’d created my first online persona—back when AOL CD-ROMs were growing the Internet a hundred free trial hours at a time, and “GarbageM0n” navigated a dozen open Instant Messenger chats like a twelve-year-old day trader. I thought it was appropriate to write Fakebook that way—like an insecure, emotional teenager in search of meaning and afraid of screwing up.
    After all, this Fake Dave walked down the road every day, getting closer and closer to Amish country, less and less sure about what he’d do once he got there, straying from a plan that no longer mattered. He was cut