I’d encouraged him.
Showed interest. When he asked me to listen to a song.
I dropped him. He’d been too active and I follow who I follow. I guess I should follow everyone? Jesus would – or more likely no-one…what does Kanye do?
Tonight he came back, said “your a venomous hack.” – please provide sources/citations for these supposed exertions, and check your grammar.
He said: “your stupid” – with kisses.
I must have hurt him. He thinks I am someone who could have helped him. Twitter is not utopia. It is a simulacrum of the wars upon our world.
He called me an opportunist. Yes. Or I’d be dead. Raised by Thatcher, reared in the selfish 90s. The thinker. The speaker. But “fake” – what? I don’t speak my mind, on social media, why of course…
I thought media would allow the truth. but I was forced to find art a faster medium for such nuance. live n let breathe, n no judgement, n peace.
If I’d been a man, and said, “Yeah, nice music,” – it wouldn’t have led to:
the abuse I just got. the hate.
I am sensitive. He too. He’s blocked me now. And I too him.
Is there a power which we are supposed to wield? A grace, a torch to lead with from all we yield?
Give me a hammer and give me a gun – I’ll build a place to defend myself from.
The offence and the lies. The fear of spies.
Or give me a pen and give me some ink. I don’t want to add a hyperlink.
But here we are. in the future, far. we reap what we sow, and I’m trying to grow
An understanding of social, behaviours, observed. Gotta lead, speak truth. To shock, to defy, to challenge, to flower. To go to seed. Or blossom forever. But defending ourselves from free will- the choice to Unfollow? The choice to engage. To be social. Manners and openness. Tracking. Recorded forever. Archived and stored to define who we may be. Are we only digits and bites, with no fight? The weight of Proper Distance (Silverstone/LSE) – is that another Foucaultian prison. Transparency- a failed dream, when profit is motive and kills equality.
But our freedom is dying, or is it multiplying? Maybe I am as dim as he said. People don’t always get what I said. The fear of the new. The fear of the brave. The screen between cyberspace and ‘real’ life.
140-character debates – the depth of this joke.
I’m taking so many of my thoughts to my grave, and they should have been said, they should have been shared.
I once got sent a cock on Instagram. Instacock. Snapchat wankface. Shitter. I blog.
💙💻💻💻💙🔫Kirsty Allison 2015
(Main image: Inga Tillere.)