The year was 1993ish. Loose Moose Theatre was at the Simplex, a former cattle auction room with raised seating around the stage. I was in high school and would go see Gorilla Theatre 10 or so times a year. I had no idea about Micetro on Fridays or of the people I now know, who were part of the company at that time. I only went on Saturday nights when the cast is made up from those who have attained "gorilla" level in experience.
My favourite improviser was always Graeme Davies. A moment that sticks in my memory was a solo scene-to-music which he initiated by waking up in the morning to the hillbilly heehaw music the sound improviser played. His face was rubber and he square danced around the stage like a cartoon. It's one of the perfect moments in comedy that I have filed away. That one scene wouldn't have been memorable if the rest of his stuff wasn't brilliant, either, which it was. I think it may have been what solidified one of my own fundamental comedy tenets: Commitment. To everything, to the words and character and body and the accept/give connection with everybody else. IMO, you needs it. It's one of my goals for sure.
Anyways, I friend requested him back when the theatre did the first of an annual homecoming event and he came out to retake the stage. Back then people were more generous with the online friendships. We sat in the waiting room together? Let's be friends! For the past few years we've traded likes on statuses or articles every so often. Each post of his that I read is filtered through what I know about him so far, from back then as the funny performer and now with what he posts. It's nice. An informal acquaintanceship with a person whose creativity I've admired for over 20 (!) years, shimmering around in the ether. He's not the only person out there that I now have a loose connection with, he's just an example and, quite frankly, the shiniest. There's a lot of people in my extended networks. It's actually freaking me out a little. I'm still over the 50% mark on the introverted scale.
Facebook has created a few new classes of relationship. Since the site is so pervasive and ever present in daily life, I think it will be around for a while longer. I guess me and Graeme are on track to trade occasional "likes" for... another decade? Two? Everybody getting to know each other better a little at a time yet never forming anything tangible? That's a new addition to the Eskimo list of words for Love, which must cover lesser relationships like "we nod when we pass each other on the tundra". They didn't have this version of rapport back in the, uh, ever.
Sociologists, get on it. (My arrogance is in thinking for one second that this hasn't already been studied to death.)