Social Media Addict

[Comment Left under a video titled “480p”. Consisting of vines, viral clips, and memes stemming from 2015-2018 (roughly)]

TL;DR This was the internet when it was as it transformed into what it is today: which is EVERYTHING and EVERYWHERE. I do miss this time in my life but, I have no regrets saying that I’m glad that man I used to be is dead.

When the internet was at its most impressionable and its most destructive. Not because it’s our fault. But because we lacked the ideological courage to refuse these things and wonder how damaging it could be if we prolonged these “good vibes”. This was when companies paid attention to the public. I wish this wasn’t so.

Here we are. A new generation of sarcastic ironic little dips**ts whose life’s purpose is virality and without the stimulation of parents to police the amount of content they consumed, the internet idols became their biggest motivators to learn their game instead of the game of their own reality first.

How much does a young persons whole life cost in data?

We cannot go back to before this time, when we were left to ourselves. The right to be bored. Before we had to fend for ourselves in this internet jungle of “like, comment, and subscribe”. NOW, it’s a rule of law… memes are a source of income instead of little funnies we all saw. Having inside jokes with complete strangers is long but a forgotten memory and is now what creates a profile of open mindedness in a society that values its obsessive nature to be blissfully unaware of the outside world.

What exactly makes ‘good content’ especially for someone like me that is abhorrently consuming nothing but fodder until there’s a reason to stop. I cant tell you how I know it’s good, I just know I enjoyed it. Doomscrolling is the least of my worries. But if I do it every day and tell how I feel, maybe one day I’ll look back and see what what wrong. Hopefully it’ll look like a regret. Or better, a sign of improvement. Or worse, the ramblings of a mad man. The words etched on the walls of various poster boards of the void itself. I’m not genius, I have page, of course im not a genius… but if I was, I would put it in the form of a book or a journal away from the vast online nothingness that is the internet culture.

Today, was one of the days that made me feel as if there’s no fixing it. This made me think of Emily from Naples. A random addition on Snapchat. Various aliases of a man who desires money from me, a man yearning for connection. Me, a man who is bored. That’s what I get for posting my Snapchat on various dating apps. Yes there is no shortage of scam content. But I sure showed him. Don’t worry everyone, a scammer didn’t get me this time. Hoo-hoo. What a good joke. Here’s where I decided to write to him…

“THE BLUE ELEPHANT”
[the following is an abridged version of the message sent to ‘Emily from Naples’ addressing the scammer who uses various aliases to get small amounts of money through means of conversation]

I see you as a di****ad, it’s not your fault you do this. You’re forced by circumstances in trying to lie your way into my wallet, You feel as if it’s a right to take from innocent people, especially Americans. Knowing you’ll never EVER be me and where I am. That pi**es you off to no end. Hoo-Hoo. I see you di****ad, forget the charade of Emily from Naples… Hoo-Hoo. I’m talking to the man from a war torn country no one will ever visit or see, one that I’ll never go to. That’s your leverage over me. I know your game and you failed. Yet im the one who exacerbates pathetic notions in giving you the time of day by responding to such nonsense. It’s my fault. I love chaos, I need war, and the argument of such with the world at large. There’s nothing I can do to stop it but knowing you’re trying your hardest to keep the charade going. It won’t happen. The ant beneath my boot has more to offer their colony than you do in a given week. Addressing that there’s a possibility within you that feels that you’re RARE. A Blue Elephant that got what he’s been clamoring for for years. The anguish you went through, hungry nights, and evil nightmares of people who do more harm than you. Maybe the shots in the air following the screams and shrieks of hollowed halls filled with women who are left childless. The man who got his free $20 from another single American man who’s so lonely and dumb, he felt the need to do so in order to avoid feeling guilty. That’s not me. Im a man who knows too much and will do nothing to help you. Stop with the short answers di****ad. I know you’re there. Hoo-Hoo. You are the child who plays a game of bluff and disguise And until you decide to think for yourself.
You’ll always be in debt to me.
Good luck.
See ya in two weeks under another moniker. Hoo-Hoo. Di****ad. Hoo-Hoo.

Poly Styrene is an interesting character in the world of punk rock. Especially that big boom of the 70’s. The allure of punk overtook the poor girl. Damn shame too. As unique as she was, she had a problematic mind. She was anxious, depressed, later bi polar, all type of psychosis that, at the time, maybe wouldn’t have been the best suit for someone going on stage. Definitely not a whole lot as far as the medical team could do or withstand. Sitting in silence, in a decrepit apartment with various folk including John Lydon from the S*x Pistols. She gets up to go to the restroom. For an hour, the looks down the hall. Come to find her beautiful thick locks of hair were all gone. Shaved head to impress THE punk rock guy. No one said a word.

Poly Styrene is what happens when you disregard your mental well-being and choose the world that is not your friend to begin with. A world you know nothing about. Strengthening that idea that the less you know about something the more confident you feel about it. Quite the unfortunate set of circumstances for sure. A woman of talent however, a woman in a male dominated delapitated state of music culture. Patti Smith, The Slits, X-Ray Specs, Siousxie Sioux, to mention a few that paved the way for many a women to come. That… was more than enough to be proud of when you view any picture of any women from the past punk rock years. That big boom was a dangerous time and they were survivors of something fierce.

I hope Poly Styrene got in death what she couldn’t get in life.

A studio portrait taken today in 1977, can you name this much-missed singer?

TL;DR The internet culture is a mess of people in hell who post pictures of what Heaven may be like.

Today I saw not much of anything but things that left me inquisitive. Why post anything at all if it’s drivel nature rings for nothing to me? Who am I watch? I often think about how others think. The trolls and the army of satirical soaked citizens looking for a laugh at anything that pops up is always horrifying to me. 2016-2017 was the influx of this whole charade we call the internet culture. It’s robust how no one questioned the rise and existence of uploads that we engaged in. No one asked “is this REALLY THAT good for me?” Or atleast no one knew what was happening. So they ignored it. A clear sign of the decline of rationality, the black streak across a whole generation of people. Those who are smartly at the forefront of the impact of the internets entertainment value, divulged into a group of people who remain “catching a vibe”. Looking forward and being “positive” without ever wondering what was in their head to force them to be this way. It was scary to face. The man in the mirror is sometimes the cringiest person in your home. Who is that?

Unfortunately, we still remain in that position looking back at the desert and wondering where the lake the used to be. The search for the vibe is lost. Now amongst all of the creators (now influencers) trying to catch a break. The break never came. Internet virality is a fickle mistress with most of them dropping like flies or move on to something else within 5 years. Everyone. 5 years. Jake Paul’s Team10 scam website brought in million from naive young “investors” (children) waiting for some sense of security in knowing a creator (influencer) would give them the keys and helped them drive their own car for a while maybe creating a millionaire themselves. Knowing they got fu**ed on all front. With videos that were vague, boring, or common knowledge that could’ve been found for free if googled smartly. Content creation is as different as writing a novel or a song. “Write something you know you fu***ng idiot” but instead it went “first let’s decide what your YouTube channel name should be”. However, With that millions Jake Paul decided to f**k the sport of boxing. Gaining more money. This whole thing was a waste of time for anyone who doesn’t care about Jake Paul. Yet he got out engagement because we were ALL so curious. If the circus is in town, and a content creator was up against a lion, I’m showing up. Only to find it being two men in a lion costume. Time and time again. It’s entertaining to some degree. Maybe next time there’ll be an actual lion. That’s our curse as a group of young people. The curiosity that blossoms into hours, days, months, years, decades, of trying to “see what’s out there” I tried to warn everyone. I tried to warn them. But here we are. Engaging with things that don’t concern us. With people who don’t know. On a platform that is extremely abused by corporations who could care less but show this slightest interest in public safety that passes for our favorite internet people to keep going and show us a fake sense of love and belonging. Generations of people who are clamoring to this idea of belonging and can’t live without it. Without them. No independence. No plan B. All people. Not just democrats or republicans or young or old or those with autism or totally fine wether you have cancer or diabetes wether your dad died or your dad makes content with you… everyone is dependent on the internet. We suffer because we lack the ability to communicate with ourselves first and utilize problem solving to take action without the obvious answer. I get it. I shouldn’t.

Hopefully we let this charade go… hopefully we will choose to live raw, clean, and healthy. Away from the rest of the world in the palm of our hand, with all of it gunk and dust, Away from the power of the comments section.
There’s something beautiful out there.
I hope to find it one day.
I hope it’s quiet.

What’s on your mind?

I’ve been looking at this status bar for years. Yet I never know what to put there. A lot is on my mind as of late, I’ve been reading a lot more books. Which means naturally my brain decides to write in a frantically obsessive manner. This way of living happens whenever I’m into something that I find some sense of enjoyment in that invokes a “hyper-fixation” as one may call it. I’m far from autistic, I don’t know if I have A.D.D. or A.D.H.D, and I can’t figure it out without a doctor. Atleast I’m sane enough to not be a complete social media addict, and self diagnose, creating a giaGANTIC Eye roll from my constituents. I’m bored at the end of the day and I just need something to do. I wrote this trying to figure it out. Why I do this.

It’s a long post… one that keeps the commoners away. Or assuming someone finds this….
“I ain’t reading allat”
“Bro just yappin”
“Said a whole lotta nothing”

I hear it now. ‘Whats on your mind?’ Indeed.