Posts Tagged ‘social media

10
May
19

You Don’t Bring Me Pleasurrre…Anymorrre

***

This one goes out to all you tech heads running this space.

You don’t bring me commeeeents.
You don’t lead me to lasting friendshiiips.

You hardly show me anything helpfulll, anymorrre,
When I log in during the downsiiide of my solituuuude.

I remember when this was all fresh and new;
And, flashing signs promised so many pleasing options.
You used to welcome me with that little light.
Now, I’m lucky if it ever shines.

When it’s good for you, WordPress,
It still sucks for me.

Well, you just roll over;
Roll out your new format
And tell me to update my technology.
Because you don’t bring me pleasurrrre, anymorrrre.

It used to be so simple. [Used to be.]
But, nothing ever is.
Just like breathing in all of the pollution,
Your place is littered with lousy biiiz.

WordPress, I’d say I remember all the things you taught me,
But then, I learned them before yooou.

I learned how followers are often nothing but cons, mindless drones and thieves.
And, how LIKES mean next to nothiiing.

Well, I also learned how to limit my usage
And apply my time to better thiiings.

But, honestlyyy, what are better thiiings?

So, do you think I could learn
How to tell you goodbye?

Because you don’t lead me to lasting friendshiiip.

You don’t confirm my work has valuuue.

And you don’t really bring me pleasurrre…anymorrre.

[But, I’ll still be posting here until divine intervention points me to a better alternative…until the love runs out.]
lyrics by Alan Bergermeister and Nellie Emerald, sung by Barracuda Heartstrings

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08
May
18

F-Book Stalking and Reliving Old Wounds

****

So, it’s like this.  I don’t use the site/service I prefer to call F-Book.  You know what I mean.  The place you profile people, poke them, stalk feeds, etc.  I’ve heard enough agonizing, annoying stories about the place.  So, I keep my distance.  And, for the most part, so does my family.  Yet, there are those who find their reasons and do all…that.  They may not have their own “page,” but they’ll still dig into the pages of others, of people they used to know just to see where they are now.  And, if people actually thought to look for me?  Well, too bad, so sad, you won’t find me there.

My sister decides to show me pictures of people we used to know when we were kids.  If these are former classmates of hers, I’m okay with it.  But, I still think it’s wrong if she’s not actually reaching out to these people.  That’s just stalking…or ghosting.

But, when she shows me people I shared a class with…people I used to think of as love interests and/or friends…people I lost touch with…who have now moved on, married, had kids…….

It’s like I’ve been in prison all this time.  It’s like I missed out on life.  It’s like I’ve lost them all over again and multiple ways.  It’s hard to just brush it off and say I’m not bothered or discouraged.  I’ll likely need time away from seeing more of…that…to forget about it, as aging is likely to afford.

In  a very small way, I suppose I should be happy these people, at least, appear happy.  And, the girl I thought I’d eventually marry…at least she has a kid with a name I would have agreed to give the child.

I don’t know which is worse.  Or, I do and don’t want to admit it.  If I had done the searching, I might find myself wanting to get lost in a bottle of booze I dare not touch.  But, I didn’t open the box.  My sister did.

…..

How much can one guy like me take?

I just needed to vent, to process this a bit and now have to let it all go.  So many falling stars.  So many beauties I’ve come to adore running off with other men.  I’m just too slow.  It’s my fault.  But, I’m better off not letting them get to me.  Let them go.  And, where I fall I fall.  Just tune out what I cannot hold or control.  Wait for my moment.  My moment will come.  Or, I’ll die a hermit in good service.  I’ll be like a monk or prophet.

 

19
Apr
18

Exit the Social Media Freeway System

*****

Everything internet comes with some measure of traffic. If you feel yourself getting stuck or lost in any of that, if you feel like the loser at a school reunion with nothing to compare, nothing to showcase with a smile, pull to the side, stop the car and get out. Now. Don’t spend another minute putting up with the irritations and discouraging faces around you. Don’t continue to sit in guilt, distress or confusion.  Don’t turn to drugs or destructive behavior as some sort of revenge-slash-self-harm. Don’t keep looking for the off-ramp to satisfaction. Just get off the road and take a few deep breaths where the air is fresh.

This isn’t the venue for making the best of connections.  This isn’t the best art gallery to feature your work.  This isn’t likely the office of the publisher you want to turn your latest fruit of the heart into a bestseller.  I’m not saying these things are impossible here, but the odds are much slimmer.  And, I know slim odds.  I’m tackling them right here with you, steering away from the “mainstream,” trying to exist outside the box.  It’s hard.  No doubt.

But, how many ever achieve anything while in traffic?  Other than road rage and maybe an exchange of papers in the case of an accident?  Other than those rare stories of passersby sparing a crash victim from dying in the vehicle?  How many are making friends in traffic?  I mean something greater than the friendly wave for letting you into the very traffic I am warning you is going to get to you.

Thanks, stranger; I needed a way onto this road to get where I am going…but, wait, I didn’t want this!  Now, I’m stuck.  Again!

Everything internet feels a bit like the rat race to get the latest this or that or fill our “bellies” with what we crave.  And, if you can’t keep up with the speed limit, it can really wear you down or wreck your life.  You might take a break and get right back in it, too.

Why??  What is so addictive about this trafficking.  Heh.  I said it.  This, too, is human trafficking.  It’s not the known definition of the term, for that is just the cover under which so much else goes on unseen.   That’s how moral crime works.  You only see a glimpse of the whole or bigger picture.  There is so much more going on outside your perspective.

Now, let everything I just said wash through your hair and out of your brain.  Let’s get right down to what you’re seeking.

Fame?  Find an agency.  Make a YouTube spectacle of yourself.  Self-publish your books and do whatever you can to get on a talk show or share a table with someone who has her own channel for just about everything and loves bread.

If you seek human connection whether as friendship, love or to feed your soul some other way, reach out to people, at the very least, online as you find them.  Make contact.  But, better yet–and I need to remind myself of this–get away from the glowing screen and deal with people around you.

Want to know what that person is thinking or doing right now?  You know, there used to be this thing called a telephone, technically a “land line,” and you had to use that same scrolling finger you burn up on the glowing slab of plastic-crete you may now hold to turn an actual wheel a few times to reach the person you favor.  And, if that wasn’t good enough, you could put pen to paper and put that in an envelope that went through what used to be called a postal service which then sent the paper and envelope, along with a “stamp” to the person you named on the envelope.  Or, you hopped on a bike, took a hike, caught a bus or drove a car to VISIT the person(s).  Try that, maybe.  You’ll likely feel better and get some fresh air in the bargain, that is, if the air is still fresh when you do.

I’m slapping myself with this one right now (metaphorically), reminding myself to mind the traffic.

 

06
Feb
17

Super Bowl 51, Poetry and Disappointment

*****

Some moments in history can be quite poetic, regardless how great or awful they may leave you feeling. The US disaster of 9/11 was one of those moments when numbers started clicking like gears in a clock, turning what seemed like a big shock into a conceivable puzzle, one that could have been orchestrated. Likewise, Super Bowl LI (51) has a few numbers that fell perfectly into place. And, if we look hard enough, we might uncover more.

Consider this.

Tom Brady of the Patriots was looking for his fifth win/ring, and he got it. Now, he’s got himself an infinity gauntlet. He’s half way to becoming a Super Bowl Mandarin. [Those were nerdy Marvel Comics jokes, in case you were wondering.]

The Falcons were apparently denied every previous ring/trophy they ever snatched from the hands of every team that fell one round short in all their previous championship years. This would have been their first win. They were denied, again.

You see? This was Super Bowl 51, and Brady got his fifth while denying the Falcons what was very close to being their 1st. 5 and 1.

And then, consider who scored the much needed touchdown to tie the game. I don’t know if he scored the 2-point conversion, too. But, we’ll say it was #28 who tied the game at 28, sending it into overtime. The first Super Bowl to ever go into overtime? I highly doubt that.

What else have I got to make this more poetic? Actually, that was it. But like I said, there may yet be other numbers that fit into place. And, I would not be surprised.

All poetry aside, let’s not forget the two reasons I really watch these championship games: the commercials and the halftime show.

Sadly, there wasn’t one commercial that I wanted to see multiple times or discuss with friends/family/coworkers the rest of the week/year. The one about the internet being a skinny “wiry” guy who LIKES everything; that was…interesting, I guess. Mr. Clean got a chuckle. Melissa McCarthy, that chubby siren, she was so cute…pitching a car that sounds a lot like a mad Roman emperor who watched his world burn. A metaphor for the oil industry? The traditional favorites seemed missing until, near the end, I saw glimmers of the old advertising magic, including the ghost of Spud the Budweiser dog and one lame Sprite commercial that fell flat faster than the soda does when left uncapped.

But, the biggest disappointment of all might be that no one made a commercial with Chun Li in it to commemorate the number of the game. [I kid.  But, I did make my own ad for that.]

Lady Gaga was a sight to behold with her halftime show, making some sharp costume variations.  Hair and makeup were both fantastic and simple.  Yet, compared to a few previous shows with female contenders, hers was washed out. Some might have questioned her lack of a supporting artist. She didn’t call in Lenny, Bruno, Madonna or the Black Eyed Peas. She held her own. And, she did all right. She kept it clean, nothing too edgy, daring or controversial. But, something was missing…

…And, “social media” was not it! I get it. Everything on television has to be geared toward teens who must eat, sleep and breath the clicking of a keyboard as they get programmed for war in the future. But, seriously? I need to know how many “tweets” or clicks or beeps are happening during a game or right after a performance? That’s like going to see a Broadway show and finding out how many people coughed or sneezed at the end. SHUT THE FRAG UP! I turned the TV off and waited for the madness to stop.

I am so sick of all the tech talk! I’m tired of robot football players flashing signs, drones popping up everywhere you look, boasting camera angles that could zip into a guy’s nose hairs…and, cripes sake, stats about finger clicks and swipes. E-NOUGH! Even if the game was played by robots to eliminate all the painful injuries and losses…only to rack up other losses and repair jobs…it would not interest me to be so robotic or computerized. Without a certain human element in this game, I don’t think I’d have the same interest. It would be like watching a giant, ridiculously expensive video game. And, maybe it already is just that…and I should stop watching before I hate it like NASCAR.

Ehem. Neck roll to relieve pent up stress.

Truth be told, fitting a stellar show into 12 minutes is rather daunting. I’d suggest two alternative strategies next year:

1) The artist picks 2 or 3 songs–not a full album–to spotlight with grand props, special effects…the works. That’s roughly one song per four minutes, slightly longer than the average music video. But, we get to revel in each song in ways that a normal concert might not be able to provide.

2) Make the halftime show at least 30 minutes long. That may seem like a drag to the teams in the locker rooms, but it would give the performers more time to develop a stellar show rather than appear like they’re rushing to get a touchdown before the clock expires.

In conclusion, I went into this game not caring who won. The team(s) I wanted to play were denied entry. And, personally, I’m a little sick of Tom Brady and the Patriots. When one quarterback can score 5 rings/trophies in his career–granted, not as easily as the Dallas Cowboys made it look some years ago–while my favorite team(s) are lucky to see 1 ring/trophy in a decade…and that’s after changing coaches, quarterbacks and/or who knows what…it grinds your gears a bit.

Not to mention, there was the year the Patriots–if I am correct–were accused of photographing an opponent’s playbook. And, just last year, we were grumbling over “Deflategate,” when the Patriots were accused of messing with the air in the balls used in the final game on an exceptionally cold night. Topping that off, Brady wins this one after pretty much sitting back and relaxing for three quarters before shaking off his lion-skin cape and breaking out the bazooka. It’s as if someone told him the last scandal would get wiped from his record if he took a few hits and threw a few rounds in the ring before unleashing the eye of the tiger. And, it wasn’t like the Patriots needed the overtime period. That ended about as fast as their last drive, in under a minute. All the Patriots really needed was another 30 seconds on the clock, maybe 51 seconds.

Anyway, the big spectacle comes and goes, making way for the next season of tycoon arena sports. Thankfully, I care even less about that one. I don’t waste more than a minute looking at the car-nage. But, what an expensive gambling setting, source of pollution and waste of resources. All thanks to our beloved troops who make it possible, right? Whatever. [And, all of the local crimes behind the troops backs really make us feel safe at night.]

05
Nov
16

My New Social Networks

*****
I’m not much of a joiner. I’m just too darn skeptical.

I don’t like assuming everyone and every corporation you find is suddenly a “friend” you can add to or delete from your circle. I don’t like slinging, eating or smoking hash. Nor do I have any interest in tagging bags of it. I don’t want people following me everywhere and reading my every thought. I don’t like people abusing a word like– What’s the word I’m thinking of? You know. It’s like…something like… Anyway. Why be one of countless followers feeding the pockets of some millennial mogul-in-the-making when you could be feeding your own pockets with shat piles of gold?

So, I did just that. I crapped out my own social domains in just a few minutes. Sign up, and you can continue to defecate every little thing that crosses your blue-lit mind in one more trending space. Or, link your crap from other spaces to this space to create a chain of crap, otherwise known as diarrhea of the internet.

Once I’m rolling in golden crap cakes, I’ll be sure to thank everyone by showing off the fruits of my empire and a short shat list of charities I support to distract you from my stock and political angles.

Now, go forth, be poop-ful and multiply.

Be sure to Kiss my Arsebook page and Stalk my Sh@tter feed.

I’m Writingbolt and I drop this statement (along with one smelly microphone).

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26
Sep
13

Aware of Wandering Leeches; Concern Over Recent Followers

The internet is a mixed bag of blessings and booby traps. Make the wrong click-turn, and you wind up going down a dark exit ramp into cyber crime misery. I trust people online about as far as I can throw them until they speak with me personally so I may evaluate their authenticity.

Everywhere I go to interact with people online, I eventually run into my share of pests and questionable entities. In chat rooms, they were known as “bombers” and “bots”. Trolls and bullies are popular words these days. But, as I try to restrict the influence of a certain social media website on my personal blog here, I find myself followed by strangers from foreign lands who do not express why they are interested. I also am being swarmed members secretly belonging to some organization I can only presume is yet another online trap.

Who are you, AWOL? Why do you even call yourselves that? Why not be Trolling For Fun, Inc. while you’re at it? Why couldn’t you be Blogging for You if you were serious? And, if you are genuinely out to help people, you’re not going to just throw them a few bucks (which might not even exist) for posting ads. Promising something better than a career earned with a college degree by adding a page/link to my blog? Goodness. Who needs writing skills or valuable content when I can just slap a bumper sticker on my random rants, sit back and watch the meter digits spiral? Why don’t I just move to California and try out for every reality show out there? You sound like those loan companies who don’t care how bad your credit is before having people sign away their souls for some quick cash, cultivating a world of liars, frauds and scams.

If everyone joined your special group, what then? We’re all under some mystery thumb, accepting the bread crumbs tossed to us while kicking back and doing nothing or talking/writing to themselves? Who’s doing the reading if everyone is kicking back doing nothing but letting magic happen on their blog? Wouldn’t we all be getting just a bit too lazy after a while? Aren’t you just the internet equivalent of taking steroids or energy drinks? [And, anyone who watches the news feeds knows how that goes for sports stars.]

You can veil your true nature under pretty faces of all ages “living the dream”, but you’re not fooling me. I sign up with you, and suddenly I am MIA. I have no reason to trust any of your Agents of Wrecking Lives. I cannot block or remove you. And, if you continue to accumulate, I will have to put my foot down another way.

Is anyone else seeing these flies on their FOLLOW and LIKE list? Has anyone confirmed the authenticity of this group?

If I have crossed any lines or offended any business in any way, I won’t sweat it. I don’t need to dig my hook into some quota of total strangers to keep a chain letter going. I’ll find a more reasonable way to benefit from my effort with people who communicate from the heart (not their wallets/purses).




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