Reader discretion advised: this post contains sarcasm.
So Instagram banned my account this morning due to thisobviously (?) indecent hand over keyboard photo.
Indecent male hand hovering over keyboard insinuating outrageousmusical activity
I had no idea the mere suggestion of me having a keyboard again was so shocking.
See, what happened – I was very touched about having finally acquired a keyboard after living without any piano or keys since 2018!
Too late did I realize that a male hand hovering over a sensible music instrument could be too much to handle for the Instagram community, or that, maybe, the fantasy of me again being able to inflict emotional havoc with my terrible music was so bad that it had to be stopped by all means?
I obviously disagreed with the decision. However in order to communicate my confusion Instagram give you no other option than to take a selfie and upload it to document that you are still you – blindly trusting that they wont viciously leak such unshaved early morning atrocity to dark and sinister purposes later,
Of course I wont comply with such dubious procedures!
And as the requirement for the selfie was to show my hands I quite naturally send them my “hands hovering over keyboard” thing instead (They did not go so far as to say “stick em up!”, but still, show your hands, take a picture of yourself… really, seriously?)
I have a blog here, and even (still) another facebook account; besides I never really figured out what to do with Instagram that I couldn’t already do here.
So if you figure out to look here wondering why I have stopped following you on Instagram then you got your answer, it wasn’t about us!
Struggling to get up early – before 1, or at least 4…
No, not A.M. – P.M,. like in the afternoon. I decided to try my hand on making a list, on that – how to get you out of bed.
Music I listened to: Anatomy Of A Murder, Duke Ellington. Columbia Records 1959 CS8166
1. Sleep rough during winter outside a nightclub at sunrise to unleash the drunken agonized young men who didn’t get any that night. They will kick you in the face and send you off running, wide awake, ready to work as a social media content moderator.
2. Develop a suitable addiction so that craving – this your most accountable partner – can manifest and wake you up at the darkest hour, just before dawn, to work your rock ‘n roll moves, twist and jerk until you can get your hit and slide off surfing to work as a social media content moderator.
3. Move to a country bordering on you-know-what and you’ll be woken up by rocket fire or shady characters rummaging your living room for teacups to fill with radioactive substances, doorknobs to smear with nerve toxins, or children to viciously torture for a splash in the media. Wide awake, terrified, in shock, and perfectly alert, you’ll rush screaming to your job as a social media content moderator.
4. If you have arthritis in your spine, go to a coffee shop in a major city and strike up conversation with a 30-something mentioning meditation and they will immediately say “You should try Yoga!”. Get that info and try those poses just before you go to bed. Then you’ll be sure to wake up before the devil itself in excruciating pain, just able to crawl across your cold (easy to clean) dirty tiled stone floor to reach your emergency stash of ultra-strong painkillers stored from your last trip to surgery, eat them raw in cold sweat, chew on dust, and find yourself wide awake, head spinning on a needle, ready to dash off to work as a social media content moderator.
5. You’ll be fired, then called back to work for some lunatic who runs a site called Twat, Twatter, Tit – or whatever, allowing you to destroy the planet by trolling unstable masses of immature maniacs. You won’t be allowed to sleep while working on the collective suicide of humanity, so there’s no need to wake up, or—for that matter—see any urgency in getting to work, ever again, as a social media content moderator.
“I have spend more time deleting Facebook profiles than I had ever spend creating them… and I didn’t even succeed in getting rid of it. It gave me constipation, needing medical attention. I literally had to dig out a massive fat shit of my own ass – hours and hours of digging finally exploded it out on the toilet floor in a bloody mess missing the can with about half a meter (that is if you want all the gory details). This experience, the global madness, exposed and amplified, gravely reduced my feeling of security in this world. It is painful. It is a true story. Someday it will be Mother Earth. It is severe opinion constipation. And it suck.” – Pollyfiks. Paris, Texas. 23 July 2021. (c)(p)(r) Earth Art Collective.
Each time I venture out into this wobbly social network environment, I end up with a different set of friends.
Each time I start out with an idealistic point of view and end up with an office job.
The number of words in my notebooks go down as those here go up.
My work slow down and nothing gets published.
Eventually, I have to find a third job as well.
My work stops.
As you all know you end up carrying food from mother Earth to your mouth or money from your employer to your landlord.
Your work living is living the work.
I feel like some spirit somewhere sit with an enigmatic smile just waiting me to notice.
This time I kicked the ball twice.
At first it came about as I needed to find solutions regarding work and contacts. Some tell me to go on social networks. I think, okay, alright, I try again.
Old friends suddenly find out! ‘No longer in Copenhagen?’ they say. I find out somebody had died; this made me very sad. I didn’t know that. I hear from family, and so on.
After only a few days I find myself connected to almost exclusively Danish friends, family and colleagues and have to consider every word I write accordingly, tedious.
I feel tired; I have been here before I feel. Like a horse, walking in a circle?
I get bombarded with Denmark’s political predicaments regarding immigration.
As I consider myself a migrant as much as any I find that very sad too. Moving anywhere and cultivate the Earth, work, or live from your musical talent there, is not a crime in itself.
I find the entire discussion completely missing the point: ‘There are no difference and nothing but difference between people.’ All are equal before the law. We must collaborate and get along globally.
You should not have to apply to stay but just register so that you can commit to the laws and settle for the time you are there.
Everything else strictly is racism and global apartheid.
And that goes both ways – ‘it should not be necessary for anyone to pity themselves in order to get support and respect,’ I think to myself, ‘the discussion is not about what it apparently is about. People are already fighting over something else, something less honorable than the question of human rights, religion or asylum for fugitives?’
But this was not what I looked for actually; my fatigue turns into dread.
I find myself getting dragged back in my life and involved in old considerations, about loyalty towards certain musical styles, national ways, merits and customs, politics. Who is who and so on.
So I kick the ball a second time!
I remove all my friends and delete the profile. Then I create it again with the same mail (not hiding) but now somehow try to diverge to other countries by inviting anyone I stumble on no matter where from or who they are.
This happens to result in many fine people from many places reacting kindly even as Facebook is complaining a bit; many do not react and one confused colleague ask about having added me once?
I did it the second time – remixed it, because I could not sit here and relate to political threads, many containing the well-known verbal abuse from mad anti-everything’s, about the disgraceful Danish immigration policy and what not, on my first profile, among mostly Danes.
By random ways I somehow end up, among other, connecting with many fine people from Indonesia; and, in case you can read this – as a side remark, I feel big sympathy with you all; I notice COVID cause difficulties in Indonesia, I reflect on this, and I feel this big honest sympathy with you.
All of this is of course very nice – maybe a bit risky security-wise, so be it.
However, it was not the point of me getting on a social network again.
There it is again; this enigmatic smile from somewhere…
I usually finish leaving the online community behind me again.
