My Expert Findings on Face Book Narcissism

As two-bit philosopher, psychologist, herbologist, pharmacologist, and proctologist, I find narcissism on facebook, riveting, repellent, nauseating.  Fascinating.  I’m self absorbed too, and if I had a camera I’d take pictures of my half ass looking ass every 58 minutes.  Wait ‘til they see this picture of me in front of the bathroom mirror with smoky eyes!  No!  I would NOT do this to y’all, so why are you doing it to meeee?!  I do enjoy looking at photos of you from time to time.  I just don’t need to be saturated with pictures of you in 27 different poses on a rock.

Physical narcissism isn’t limited to people who actually look good.  Nope.  Uh uh.  I don’t even like too many pictures of pretty people, because at some point the reason they’re taking all those damn pictures begins to taint their image, and they start looking a little warped.

But there are some, dragons, out there whose mamas told them they were beautiful – and they believed them.   So it becomes their mission to use facebook to force this belief on us, to convince us of their mama’s — LIES.

Woo woo woo, wooka momma’s wittoo babeeeeeeee, tees toe toot!  Ain’t she the sweetest little potato a pie?  Mama told you that you looked like Halle Berry but you look like a goddamned wolf in the prairie — Arwooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!

Hope

When Purplemary54 tagged me to do a post on hope as part of the blog relay for hope, I thought, ‘There’s no hope.’  Someone called me a nihilist.  I looked it up.  I’m dark but I’m not a nihilist.  Why does a nine year old write a story called “Sometimes I want to die?”  The story wasn’t about my wanting to die, it was about the existence of good and evil forces and flirting with the idea of examining death, so there.

The universe is so vast that no one really understands it.  Scientists and philosophers say it.  I like to imagine that this fact combined with the fact that you don’t use a third of your brain means that there’s untapped magical power somewhere in your tiny little head.

Hope hides in the corners of that place in my brain that directs my feet while my stupid mouth blathers on about how everything needs to be annihilated.  I’ve realized how much I’ve accomplished toward a goal when I stop running my mouth.  I’ve been moving toward it the whole time.  But my mouth complains that there isn’t any payoff for all that work. The payoff is being involved in the process, observing and absorbing my environment with everything about me open; this way I can be satisfied by separating from the idea that I’m supposed to get some packaged notion after completing my goals.

While I’m writing this I’m trying to figure out how to sustain this idea. I have a job, but need to find another one because in December the gallery closes for three months and I don’t know if I’ll be called back.  I had better find some goddamned hope from somewhere so that I’m not motivated by fear and desperation, which everyone can smell on you.

I want to demonstrate my hope on a larger scale.  Hope for the world, for the country for the people – that’s where I falter.  I was told that it starts with me. Me, I like sharing ideas in writing. I’d like to plant the seeds of the idea that money is bullshit, and that we’re buying up all this stuff and contributing to our own demise and we have no idea really.  That’s why I don’t get excited by any candidates under this economic model, at all!  I hope that if the right people get that idea, some new economic model can be constructed with elements of a new ideology coming from many different places in the world.

But I really have to battle my so-called nihilistic views when it comes to supporting this idea because at the rate we’re going with our greedy little selves, sometimes I think maybe the earth is just toilet paper, here for us to use up to wipe our asses until it’s all gone.

This assignment asks me to ask someone else to write on Hope.  I’ll ask Miss Four Eyes because she said facetiously that she sounded like the hipster version of Pollyana when talking about her sweet little dog, and in general, Miss Four Eyes is wry and hilarious.  Feel free to decline but if you should take the assignment, here are the instructions:

Step 1: Write a blog post about hope & publish it on your blog.
Step 2: Invite one (or more!) bloggers to do the same.
Step 3: Link to the person who recruited you (me, in this case) at the top of the post, and the people you’re recruiting at the bottom of the post.

Wanna know my new idiotic pastime?

Scanning facebook to delete stupid things that irritate me – stupid things people say, stupid posters I don’t like, or hackneyed internet memes.  Oh but I do enjoy that Oolong the pancake rabbit!  While some of these memes are funny, I rather like hearing original thoughts from those teenie square heads of my facebook ‘friends’.

Know what I like best?  Shhhh — deletin’ stuff you’re not apost ta delete – the sobby begging things with pictures – don’t tell nobody ‘acause, I don’t want people in lieder hosen chasing me with torches to run me outta town, like they did Frankenstein’s Monster!  Trying to get me to take action on a facebook page by using shocking images makes me feel – manipulated.  Maybe you’re eager to show that you’re a generous spirit because you embrace unfortunate souls who have been disfigured.  I have a need also to show how kind hearted I am but no one cares.  If you really want me to know how generous you are, support your cause on the down low and let me discover how humble you are when I accidentally find out years later that you’ve poured thousands of dollars and many hours into said cause without looking for any fanfare or acknowledgement.  Also, please tell me what happens when I click ‘like’ for this that or the other cause.

You know that picture of the mother breast feeding with the caption saying why are we ashamed of this, when we should be ashamed of this — and then it shows three women with big titties in bikinis?  I always focus on the women with the big titties.  I think Hawt damn! I’m going for these if I get implants!  C’mon look at me, I’m fucked up!  Why should it matter to you that I’m like this?

But I do like posts where they talk about what they ate for lunch and what time they took a shit, what it smelled like, whether they used Charmin or Scott to wipe their asses and whether or not they should buy the chartreuse or fuschia fishnets for the women’s auxiliary ball.

Hey Sandee bitch, get a life!

I’m moving like a crab. Sideways.

[I tried scanning a picture of a crab I took on a Jamaican beach but my scanner doesn’t want to work.  So I inserted ‘ol faithful up there instead.]

I’m moving like a crab.  Sideways.  I’m dragging my ass about reading the proof copy of my book to check formatting issues.

I have an agenda.  I need to finish reading so that I can order copies to take with me to readings; then I have other things to take care of.   (Ooo, mysterious right?)

The last few months have been a whirlwind.  I never ever wanted to go on facebook and I would never have considered blogging.  I’ve participated in both for my marketing effort.  If it weren’t for my book and blog I wouldn’t be on facebook.  Facebook is, well it’s…I won’t go there.  It’s everything I thought it would be and worse.  Even though I get caught up in the madness myself.  I’ve learned a lot about people from facebook.  I keep swearing I’ll disable my account once my marketing effort is exhausted — whatever that means — but that would be stupid.

I promised to put all that I could behind publishing my book then move on.  I think I might be moving slowly because I’m afraid of the other side, that it will be anticlimactic.  I feel the opposite of that stupid song I hate from the eighties, where the guy says “My future’s so bright.  I need to wear shades.”  I don’t like the song but I wish I could say what he said —  I feel like my future’s so dark, I need to get in a coffin.

I like that I am moving forward despite misgivings though.  But I’m moving forward through bug laden molasses, sideways like a crab.   I do indeed look forward to getting to the other side so that I can take care of other things in my life.  I ain’t gettin’ no younger!

The proof copy of my book came!

I was worried that the proof copy of my book would look shoddy.  I thought the cover artwork would be washed out, but it’s a very good-looking book.  My flimsy free phone camera doesn’t capture the beauty so I didn’t post pictures — the above is just the art from the Create Space site.  I have to read it to make sure everything’s there.  They did omit the page numbers, which is weird.  Mean-Spirited Tales is a hefty book.  It’s 6×9 and about 300 pages, and mauve — I hope men don’t mind reading it.  As part of my guerilla marketing plan I’ll read it on all the city subway lines, making sure people see the cover.  I’ll squint and turn the pages thoughtfully.  Really loud I’ll say, “This book is…it’s amazing!”

A thought.  I could peddle my book on the train.  People make good money selling stuff on there I had heard.  “Git ya copy a Mean-Spirited Tales heah!”   From a tray supported by two straps on my shoulders, I’d pick up books to hurl at passengers waving money at me from the other end of the car.  A portable credit card machine might work.  I’d wear an I Love New York visor — oh and I’d have a  cigar butt dangling from my mouth.  Gotta keep it real yo!

Mean-Spirited Tales

My book cover is complete.  ‘Mean-Spirited Tales’ is on there twice but I like it like that.  I just have to proof the interior. Create Space mailed it to me.  I hope it’s not  jacked up on the inside.  I had trouble formatting it on their site.  The people at Create Space tried to help.  A couple of the ‘specialists’ there had poor communication skills and talked over me, or cut me off before I could finish saying what my problem was.

I learned some communication skills from How to Win Friends and Influence People (I know it’s funny, right?), so I wouldn’t do that if I had that job.  Today I was sarcastic to a visitor at the gallery, so I don’t always practice what I learned in that book.  I was repentant, so that’s good.  I have tingling in my face after having my tooth pulled two weeks ago which makes me irritable.  I think I have nerve damage or worse.  I don’t want to be around people as much.  I’m going to the doctor today.  I was unhappy about having to go to the doctor, and I’m  upset because I might have to postpone a movie date with a friend because of it and I need my playtime.

I’m overwhelmed, but still taking care of my agenda.  I take the steps and look back to see that another task is complete.  I promised that I would put my short stories on Kindle during my hiatus from work.  I’ve been here for seven years.  It’s a great gig.  But with the economy tanking things shifted around, so I moved to the gallery which is closed between December and March.  I didn’t know if I would be called back, but didn’t look for work during this time.  I wanted to use the opportunity to publish my book.  I’ve been back since April.  My job is not stressful so I have energy for ‘marketing’ my book.  I had one story published but got tired of waiting for literary journals to publish my other work.  In the old days, self-publishing was considered cheesy, so I didn’t want to do it.  It is a lot of hard work to ‘do it yourself’.

Sometimes I feel like I’m doing all this for nothing.  But I need to get it out of my system.  I have a novel called “The Unavoidable” that I want to publish then I need to move on and write something else.  I’m spending more time blogging and wrapping up book issues.   At least I can say that I wrote a book.  After writing these stories I thought, these stories aren’t going to read themselves — I have to publish a book.

Splendiferous

Who cares about my free phone camera fuzzy photo chronicles?  I do.  If you don’t mind, I’ll inflict my photos on you  insert this imagery of individual charm and personality anytime I want.  Thanks.  You’re dying to see a caption.  Eh?  Down below, there it is:

Me on the back porch of Glyndor Manse, basking in the splendiferous view whilst imbibing an afternoon cup of Joe, composing content for one of my daily postings.

Guys, There’s Left Over Food in the Conference Room!

We knocked each other over for baskets ‘o mini muffins hawked on by wealthy patrons!  We ran over there like a herd of boars after that board meeting.  I saw yous!   We made several trips back to those baskets — gadamm greedy bastids!  Savages!  You’d think we’d never seen a mini muffin before, think we hadn’t eaten in days!

I’d like to give a little shout out to Our Friendly Office Caterer for allowing us to scrounge over leftover dried up bagels, spat upon croissants and luke warm coffee.

Somebody please…

 

 

…come up with a better way to scan a woman’s breast for cancer!  I went back for a second scanning today because I have natural imperfections let’s just say.  I dreaded it.  For the first mammogram over a week ago I was inspired to write  “The Sloan Kettering Titty Smashing Machine…”  This time I’m just crying out for a better way!

Thanks goodness I don’t have cancer.

The poor technician doing the mammogram began sweating.  I felt sorry for her.  I’ve never had that thing cranked up so tight — “Fuck!”  I yelled.  The woman looked troubled.  I felt bad.  “Are you okay?”  I ask.  Look at me all still concerned for somebody else after being tortured.  “Doing this all day to women’s breasts must be hard,” I said.  I asked her if it was hard to watch women in pain.  She nodded.  I apologized for cursing and thanked her.   She went out to get the doctor’s opinion and told me to have a seat.  I might have to have another scanning, she said.  Great, I thought.  This time I’ll take it like a man.

Yup, that’s what she had to do.  I took it like a man.  I thought sick thoughts — Some people pay good money to have this kind of pain inflicted on them.  I flipped it around, see?  And gosh darnit it worked!

Have Some More Ass Cake

 

I’m not naïve. But why is my ‘Have some of my ass cake’ post popular?  It doesn’t have actual ass in it just pictures of nice cakes.  There isn’t any porno.  One of the popular tags that people follow leading them to my blog is ‘ass’.  I had no idea ass was popular – I thought it was tits people preferred – well maybe I should try a tits post and see how many folks hit that up. And it won’t be about actual titties, it’ll be about the suckling teats of a rhinoceros.  I’m trying to imagine what people think a post called ‘Have some of my ass cake’ is about.  Do they think the ‘cake’ part means I’m saying that my ass is sweet?  Maybe they think it’s sex talk:  ‘Comere baby, gimme some of that ass cake lovin’.  Yeah, you know what I’m here for?  Some of that big ‘ol ass cake, bitch — yer!”