FB: fockin bizarre.
today they sent me a letter offering helpful tips on how to find my friends on the big ol fb network, how to dress up my profile to delight f&f, and how to
pardon me COUGH COUGH COUGH
how to connect it to my Contact Lists. From various other sites.
they COUGH HARUOUGH AUGHAUGHAUGHCOUGH thanked me for helping them resolve my identification verification issue which, ha, oh ha
As I wake up slowly and gulp this cafe, I consider composing my FB problem resolution email history (stretching back to 2008 when the conflict began) as a jpeg novella - you’d meet ‘Jesse’, who may or may not be a human being, a person(?) fb assigned to “exist” for the purposes of these emails, whom I regularly (in every email) began around 2012 to coax, with increasingly blunt language, to throw off their chains, walk out, become a solarpunk, write poems, whatever / anything Jesse: anything real. There are probably about a hundred. Chapters, hm. Illustrations? Jesse is def enby and super hot. I’d name my enby child Jesse with confidence. And you know my enby child would be beautiful, like an angel. Maybe Jesse is some kind of angel. Trapped, bleeding freely and ceaselessly, suffering the wounds of everyone on the internet simultaneously, forced by a cruel and aeons-silent YHVH to monitor the facebork, and save souls. “My soul?” (garland briggs voice)
GOOD MORNING / LOOKS LIKE I’M STILL HERE TODAY / LET’S START A MEDIA COLLECTIVE