I have a love-hate relationship with Twitter.
As I write these words, I have deliberately quit out of the app on my laptop so that I don’t have the temptation to toggle over to it, indulging an eight-second distraction between typed lines of this book review.
It’s also freakin’ hilarious at times.
But I also know that it’s a RT-laden, hashtag-driven, self-indulgent miasma that I will certainly get sucked into if I’m not careful.
Since January 2018, the compromise that I have struck with myself is that I allow myself access to Twitter (and other social media, too) in very limited doses.
Said another way, he’s a heady mix of Jason Bourne and Bruce Wayne with a taste for three fingers of tequila and Korean porn stars.