I fritter away precious hours dog paddling through the murk in the Web Swamp, checking out You Tube videos featuring performances by the young Lennon Sisters, and examining black and white pornographic photos snapped in the late 19th and early 20thcenturies.
It’s a typical day to this point.
I watch the Lennon Sisters sing How Much is That Doggie in the Window, Zippedeedoodah, and Mockingbird Hill. I watch the Mockingbird Hill video three times.
“Tra-la-la tweedlee dee dee it gives me a thrill…”
At the third viewing I experience vague warmth in my nether region as memories bubble to my aged surface. Continue reading
According to a note in Harper’s Magazine, a study was done at Oxford to determine a date on which the number of dead people on Facebook might outnumber the Facers who remain somewhat alive — somewhat alive because, if you indulge in more than 30 minutes of social media time per day, it is questionable if you live fully.
Half alive, I go to Google and seek more info.
Sure enough, according to researchers laboring on the small isle whose residents once decimated and dominated countries and cultures around the globe, the number of dead people on Facebook will outnumber the living by 2070. If Facebook grows at its present rate, say the nerdy necromaniacs at the Oxford Internet Institute, Facebook could include at least 4.9 billion no-longer-here members by 2100. Continue reading
My friend, Bart, tells me that he’s found the love of his life.
This is the fourth time he’s found the love of his life.
I’ve taken in more than a bit of THC, and I‘ve been drinking my best friend Tito’s homemade vodka since 1 p.m., so allow me to make a correction. Not about the loves, but about Bart.
To be accurate: I have an acquaintance, Bart, who informs me about his new, and allegedly everlasting love.
“Everlasting” is obvious to folks like Bart, revealing itself upon first glance or introduction. I am puzzled: in my experience love is something that changes and develops, with setbacks and surges, with work, over time. But, what do I know? Continue reading
It’s spring in Siberia With a View.
Spring brings a welcome change after a hard winter, and as the snow melts I discover analogies everywhere I turn. Cheap and barely supportable insights sprout anew, like the weeds in my lawn.
Foxes are fucking.
As a result, it’s a good time to exhume a limp version of the pathetic fallacy, and apply it for entertainment’s sake. I spend most of my waking hours, uninspired, in a basement office and studio, my social life consisting of a daily trip to the grocery store. If I can’t attribute human characteristics to elements of, and entities in nature, what is there to live for? Plus, for me, the fallacy plays in both directions in terms of attribution and personification. Can a basement dweller ask for much more than this? Continue reading