Twitterku. Haiku's focus on 17 syllables feels akin to the 140 characters of Twitter. Somewhere someone told me that that Eastern desire to capture what the world is differs from my Western need to capture what the world symbolizes. I often have these tiny insights during my day—seeing the world for what is rather than what it might be—and Twitter feels uniquely suited to deliver that insight.
Essence of Wiffle Ball. It bounces on air, wiggles on its way, too unsmooth to be called curve, its path uncertain, its arrival all mystery. (140 characters)
Twitteriphanies. Most times I am far from reaching any understanding, but now and then I grasp something. These epiphanies tend to be tiny things, able to be contained (only?) within those 140 characters.
Dogs bark and mailman leaves—six days a week—and that is why dogs bark at the mailman; they think it works.
The Saeco Automated Espresso Machine never hits a home run with its brew, but can be counted on to deliver singles, time and time again.
Twittvenery. In her blog "Thoughts in the Weeds," Trina from Bryn Mawr, PA writes about The Venery Game, in which participants make up "names for a host of groups." She writes, "We might, for instance, say a coolness of yuppies, an incision of surgeons, a mess of adolescents, a didact of deans, and so on." I can imagine a twitter of tweets emerging from this "game," and maybe even eventually a book, similar to SMITH Magazine's Six Word Memoirs.
My Twitter Project, as I so cleverly call it, is entitled 140 Characters, each "character" defined by a tweet. Of course, there might be legions of Twitterites tweeting their twitteriphanies already. My hope is that writers (shall we call them a quiver of quills?) far more brilliant than I will, instead of looking how Twitter might recreate the experience of "story," look to discover within the space of 140-characters all the ways they might enlarge it.