I need Twits following me?

I awoke Sunday afternoon to find the deck out back of the house covered with people. Oh yeah, the post-jazzfest party….

The last two editions of The Sunday New York Times are lying on a coffee table in the living room, still in their blue plastic wrappings, unread. I have not blogged here for 11 days. All of my waking moments have been drained by a time whore called the Xerox Rochester International Jazz Festival, nine days of music. And before that, interviews with people like Herbie Hancock and Booker T. of Booker T. & the MGs to be written, blogging for the newspaper, and making predictions on which shows people should see, plus I have a big, rowdy Weimaraner to be walked. And before that, a barbecue competition, and performing a murderous version of “Ballad of Hollis Brown” at the 24th annual Bob Dylan Birthday Bash.

And, while walking around the jazz fest, I was learning this new deal, Twittering, on a borrowed Blackberry. It wasn’t until the final day of the festival that I figured out how to CAPITALIZE letters on those Chiclet-sized keys. And I was damn sure virtually no one was reading my Chinese fortune-cookie sized witticisms like “Sicilian jazz project @ rochester club makes gutting a fish sound romantic.” But my friend Peter says I have to learn this stuff to get The Critical Mass out to those starving for wit and mayhem because, as Peter chidingly Twitted to me, “its called SOCIAL networking,” and I need Twit followers and hundreds of Facebook friends whose only connection to me is through satellites.

Yes, I have been gone for 11 days. But I am back. How can I forget you, even though most of us have never met. You are all my friends.