It’s freaking me out that C.S. Lewis and Louise Nevelson are following me on Twitter. Didn’t they die? If they were alive I’d be oh, so happy to know they were following me. Me, one of their lowly fans. They were genius.

But how would you feel if one of your dead heroes was following you? Like Elvis or Marilyn? You’d say, “Don’t follow me, go back to your eternal rest. You lived your life. People followed you when you were alive (although not on Twitter) and you might have followed people too. That was your time. You did it. Now is my time. Because I am alive. And when you’re alive you can do these kinds of things. So don’t follow me from the grave.”

People who died in the second half of the 20^th century shouldn’t follow anybody. They haven’t been dead long enough. Maybe people from the first half of the 20^th century is okay. Like, okay, Victorian dead people can follow me.

It’d be okay if Sherlock Holmes or Miss Marple followed me. They’re fictional (aren’t they?) and better yet, they’re British — that’s a whole different game.

But not C.S. Lewis and Louise Nevelson — although Clive and Louise, if you’re reading this, I want you to know I do like your work. But no, don’t follow me. Besides Louise Nevelson reminds me of my mother. And I don’t want my mother following me either. At least not in this life.