does anyone feel like this? titled the death of the extrovert. i feel this social media constipation; there is so much about myself and my life that i would love to just share, but cannot figure out the best way how. i curate things and put way too much thought and planning in what goes out. and would love nothing more than to just not think and post a pic post a phrase post a video say hello honestly none of it feels organic right now. i second guess every move. and now before just stopping short of googling social media laxatives, i wonder what this feeling is. i know others are feeling it too. i see empty feeds and understand that these are lives well lived outside of the web, and the reporting of it becomes a burden, a detrement to the moment. so instead it is silence. radio silence. web silence. and now with web3 i wonder: now all are stepping into a real life rpg where your avatar is what people see. the radio cannot be silent because then you would be silent too, to the world. to anyone on the receiving end of said radio. this happens in life irl all the time; as a french guy finding his way in the US in the fucking 90s of decades i learned about communications, inadvertently. i learned how important just being can be. i learned that people will create their own stories of you no matter how many facts you can produce. they cast you they see you how you fit into their world. it props up their worlds, it helps them make sense of their existence, which comprises of just them. this is all with varying degrees of heart and compassion, but in the end it's true, there is no one else but you. you and god are one and none can ever live the life you are living now. back to the web: the avatar seems now on its way to become more important than the irl avatar anyone gen x and prior had become accustomed to. there is now the story that exists online. the papertrail of were you happy? were you deep? what company did you ultimately keep. all these were known to be as temporary as memory serves, until the transcriber, the web made with ink and not pencil, has entered the conversation. now there is this sense of whatever is out there remains locked like a tweet, a need to write *edited* when editing a post, to prove that yes indeed i am still human enough to err and to fix. and what is then this need to fix? why? for the teacher we carry within us. the one who grades our performance. the one in charge? no you're in charge right? or who is, the reader? i feel your answer may be biased here. and yet you are not here in my presence. i am imagining you right now. i am listening to music as i type this, which you will never know. and you may be listening to music now too as you are reading this, and i will never know. little moments like these, little details exchanged in person helped the mess of communication. the awkward traffic jam of getting to know each other why? because we were here. now there is the exchange commandeered by the 1s and 0s; we have made them the messengers.. and they will turn on us with deepfakes and ultimately take over our personalities and lives and moments. memes upon memes of synaptic connection. it is indeed a meta verse because for now we all can see beyond the play.. until we immersive ourselves again into our roles so much we forget we met as the cast party. your assignment: who is this character and how do they fit into my story. our story? let's say that. it is all of us moving the ouija board after all, let's give credit where the credit is due. i'm just typing now, know idea that this is true.
now.. off to google to get unstuck