coronavirus, take me away

According to WordPress, I should start this post with a paragraph, “the building block of all narrative.” So here, this one’s on me. A hot dispatch from the epicenter of fear and loathing in Trump’s America. Amazon is sold out of hand sanitizer as a mysterious Chinese flu levels whole cruise ships of terrified civilians. My eye doctor informed me last week that blue light glasses are not, in fact, a scam. So I’m wearing them while I write this. Philip K. Dick could never.

I should be working on my novel right now. But when the writer’s block put its boot on my throat and my mind went wandering to its favorite reddit threads and meme factories to seek aimless distraction, it occurred to me that this might just be the perfect time to get back to blogging: you know, the medium that’s deader than disco as infinite scroll, like-happy, Facetuned aspirational social media feeds flood our consciousness with products we don’t need to buy and opinions we didn’t need to hear. As more and more of what we like is reflected back to us, as each of us drowns in an echo chamber of our own thoughtless construction, why not barf some more javascript into the abyss before the sun burns out for good? 

I used to be a professional Algorithm Tricker. My job was to wallpaper the hallowed halls of Google with content nobody would read, jury rig code with bot massaging honey traps, and bury CTAs in places even the savviest decision maker wouldn’t see them coming. I helped people juice their audio and video embeds to get maximum downloads, and started dumpster fires on social media to get the casual onlookers clicking. 

I quit that shit to bartend and write novels, but I have not been able to give up on the internet for good. The money was much better in my old racket, sure, but somehow my soul feels more intact slinging rail liquor for construction workers and keeping collegiate hours as I slouch ambivalently into middle age. 

And so, as a recovering slinger of “content” (roflcopter) I will not optimize shit on this site. And I won’t market my real life artwork here, either. I might post some photos of my origami, but that’s not my art, that is the hobby I do while I’m praying for the end of the world to be gentle to the innocent. 

Consider this blog the AM radio of digital media. It exists for people who are awake at 4 AM and miss Art Bell. 

(I’ll probably get flustered and delete it in a few weeks anyhow.)

The general categories: 

Flotsam: shipwrecks. The detritus of drafts that didn’t gel. The feeble attempts at writing that turned into a shoebox full of “all work and no play makes jack a dull boy” typed over and over and over and over. 

Jetsam: things tossed overboard to prevent sinking. Things I actually thought about, sort of, before composing. Probably a lot of bullshit thoughts about film? 

Inspirado: just what it fucking sounds like. Fuel to go out and make something cool before the planet melts.

Lightning Bolts: small nibbles of inspirado, compiled in clickable format.

Blow Up Your TV: reviews of TV shows I love and loathe.

Pulp Fiction: reviews of trashy novels, because sometimes you just need a cheap thrill.

Stay tuned, I guess. 

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