Around Which Leaves Fall
This wasn’t supposed to be an Away Message. It was to be an IM, or an e-mail, or a monologue. But IMs require the audience to not log off in the pause between the last letter of my last word and the enter key. E-mails- with that Christmas morning of finding a present under the tree, having a subject line, a movie trailer that hypes interest, demanding that the message live up the promised premise- e-mails require investment of a reader, who must bate their breath and click to open. Monologues require enough shame to read a script, enough trust to give a script over to an alien performer.

There are so many media, all of them different: e-mails, mass e-mails, IMs, texts, phone, voicemail, facebook, basement. But sometimes the timing just doesn't fit, the medium just doesn't match. It's a shame about the message, but there's nothing to do, except acknowledge and accept it.

I think I like this message after all. Enough to give it an evocative title and cast it into the air, into whatever medium may receive my words, around which leaves fall.