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Sometimes it's hard to remember that I loved the lives I lived before
Who knew that one of the reasons to appreciate DW not being the algorithmically slammed febrile chamber of FB would be that I can actually spend time on this platform without constantly having in my face the same photos of a man in need of a damnatio memoriae stat throwing an enthusiastically received Hitlergruß. I think of myself as possessing a reasonable tolerance for hateful language and gestures, since it is fairly impossible to survive in the world as currently constituted without one, but I could be doing several very different things with my life if I wanted to look at wall-to-wall Nazi salutes. I know that it happened. I have seen the responses and the responses to the responses and I have some responses of my own. Please get the outrage bait out of my eyeballs; it's got to take a number and stand in simultaneous line with all the rest of the corrosive Gish gallop, which actually if I hear one more person refer to the destruction of human rights as a distraction, get in that same line and load yourself into the sun.
Nonetheless, as people with whom it was my only regular medium of contact bleed off FB, I get to feel left behind once again. I am as unlikely to have an account on Bluesky as on original flavor Twitter for the same reason that its structure is terrible for my brain. I appear to have been wired by nature for exactly one form of internet communication and resent that I am supposed to accommodate to ones that make me feel like someone is treating my concentration as a pincushion. Discord is not congenial to me, either. Meanwhile I continue to hate the expectation that it is universally easier to extract information from videos or podcasts rather than written articles.
The original concept of the Etruscan saeculum is a valuable one, because it measures in historical memory: it ends with the death of the last person who was alive at the time of a crucial event, such as the founding of a city. Obviously I am trying not to feel that we are at the fraying end of one of these cycles, especially since Strauss–Howe generational theory appears to have run off a pseudoscientific and rather millenarian cliff with the notion.
To conclude on a not completely unhelpful note, Mamaleh's has had for some time a feature at their register where you can round up to the nearest dollar on an order, donating the difference in change to a charity of the restaurant's choosing. This month they went with the MIRA Coalition—Massachusetts Immigrant & Refugee Advocacy. The good news is that you can donate to them on your own time with or without a bagel or a milkshake or a 50/50, although I am obviously in support of the latter, too.
Nonetheless, as people with whom it was my only regular medium of contact bleed off FB, I get to feel left behind once again. I am as unlikely to have an account on Bluesky as on original flavor Twitter for the same reason that its structure is terrible for my brain. I appear to have been wired by nature for exactly one form of internet communication and resent that I am supposed to accommodate to ones that make me feel like someone is treating my concentration as a pincushion. Discord is not congenial to me, either. Meanwhile I continue to hate the expectation that it is universally easier to extract information from videos or podcasts rather than written articles.
The original concept of the Etruscan saeculum is a valuable one, because it measures in historical memory: it ends with the death of the last person who was alive at the time of a crucial event, such as the founding of a city. Obviously I am trying not to feel that we are at the fraying end of one of these cycles, especially since Strauss–Howe generational theory appears to have run off a pseudoscientific and rather millenarian cliff with the notion.
To conclude on a not completely unhelpful note, Mamaleh's has had for some time a feature at their register where you can round up to the nearest dollar on an order, donating the difference in change to a charity of the restaurant's choosing. This month they went with the MIRA Coalition—Massachusetts Immigrant & Refugee Advocacy. The good news is that you can donate to them on your own time with or without a bagel or a milkshake or a 50/50, although I am obviously in support of the latter, too.
no subject
Understood. I never really got into group chats, although I can prehistorically remember using AOL Instant Messenger to have conversations one-on-one.
And the feeling of being left behind as everyone one cares about migrates to or from or settles into an increasingly brain-hostile form of whatever the latest social media thing is awful and familiar. I'm sorry, friend.
Thank you. Sympathies in return. FB was never a preferred model for me, but it was manageable when it had a chronological feed and was composed primarily of friends or colleagues who actually posted semantic content about their lives or their art. During the first year of the pandemic, it was one of the ways people held out their hands to one another. As its algorithms have pessimized to boost images with as little text as possible, already shared links, and emotional distress, it has really become like wading through sludge. I am glad you can use Bluesky and Discord at least a little.
At least there's the core of DW stalwarts, I guess, but I wish I could summon back to it everyone we all want to hang out with, too.
I never understood why the great die-off from LJ. Aside from the visual differences, I did not find the two platforms untranslatably different.
(Also god, yes, I'm so incredibly sick of that picture. We know, we get it, thank you; if anyone runs into someone who lives under a rock they can pull it out again to a targeted purpose but otherwise let's all put it away again and work on the damnatio memoriae, thanks.)