De fine dishonor:
Artisticself-promotion
on Facebook
Trying to self-publish oneself is pretty much like trying to overcome the Tower, in a "nut sell" nutshell universe for the fleet of the damned. We are ahead by a century, the Tragically Hip once sang, and the disappointment is getting us down. But take heart, my friend. The nature of facey spacey is ever changing. A thing of nature, it is.
At first, it was high school sweethearts and stuff coming out of the closet ... and then a bunch of stupid apps to save the rain forest with numerous kinds of chirps basically saying hello. Then came the original prosumers, the purists, who had some kind of bullshit idea of this intranet as some kind of personal Zion, where self-promotion wasn't, hmmmm, PC ...
But the tendency here is toward those who speak from the tips of their fingers ... or those who simply lust ... mostly a combination of all things creative ...
And so I've been collecting my little list here ... a small town, if you will, of perhaps 15,000 to 20,000 people, if you count all of the other social media I use ... with the idea in mind that I was both seeking out the bleeding hearts and artists, but also acting like a bar bouncer letting the hot chicks in because, hey, that also brings the boys into the club, too.
Does anybody really believe that someone with more than 200-300 friends on Facebook is going to flag you like some cheap referee because you tried to link up with them with a random friend request? I mean, that's a good sized crowd at a night club, right?
What is most annoying to me, right now, are those who rail against Zeus, the overseer of FB, because they are wasting their time ... pissing in the wind, basically, of natural change ... those people need a license to go on the internet to begin with ... we arrive here naked as Adam and Lilith and Eve ... might as well go with who we are, develop our artistic avatars as unique voices, and let the idiots fall off the vine and rot in their private little corners if they don't get it ...
If I don't piss at least ten people off a day, anyway, what kind of an artist am I, anyway?
Due to the 5,000 friend ceiling, I finally learned that getting there, the road itself, is where the treasure is ... once you hit that point, you need to cull back people to keep growing, evolving your readership. Now I'm starting to look at all of these people who don't participate, or worse, those who are simply trying to piggyback on my paradigm ... just as I did to others on my own road, not realizing so much ... since I am a mad self-promoter ... any writer who isn't never understood anyone from Lord Byron to Norman Mailer to Hunter S. Thompson to Edward Abbey ... or even Stephen Colbert ... O shit, what was I saying? ... And Ronald Reagan? ...
Right ... anyway: To shut down the inner voice seems to be the secret mission of the media-maddened machine mind of mankind ... not that there's anything wrong with being maddened by the machine mind of Man, mind you ... makes about as much sense as anything else ....
~
For we are a freewheeling
impetuous army of draft dodgers,
poetic marchers, dreamers and archers,
who tempt the coin with one hand,
beg with the other; a speeding seed,
a galactic weed, full of lies
and sacred music ...
posted by Unknown at 3:24 AM
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