Today my 5 year old Facebook account is going to be deleted. It's a little, like I'm about to leave town for good, through which I once strolled, to distract me and get some attention. This city was indeed a panopticon, where everyone could watch everyone else, but except for a few (2 maybe), I couldn't stop anyone, nobody could stop me. Linger to stay. In the end, my urban area was dead and I was wild with social isolation, unfriendly, rough and sometimes even disrespectful.
So, how it looks, I have a webcrawler here on WP, me at times up to 480 brings views. Normally I have maybe two to five views per week, gladly also zero for many days, when I'm not active. I didn't know about this webcrawler before. Apparently it's some kind of zombie, crawling the web, and I know what crawling is, although I didn't understand it.
I loved it, to swim lengths in the mint-blue chlorine water on a hot summer afternoon. My strokes were slow, long and deep. I floated beneath the surface of the water, occasionally holding my head up to breathe. The breathing matched the strokes, and sometimes I almost stopped after a stroke, I mean loungers on the water, it felt, like slipping into a trance and then being carried motionless on the water for a moment; a kind of dead point. Only now and then did the smell of old seals slosh out of the mouth of another breaststroker or a sourly perfumed hairnet. Or but, the well-known problem: there were so many breaststrokers out there, that you probably had to switch to the crawlers via the train.
So I just pretended, like i know, how it goes: a kind of paddling, with the arm reaching over the back of the head, pulling the body to the side, once to the right, then left. I'm not exactly anyone, who lolls on the water. Aber was ich mit dem Kopf, the feet and let alone the hands had to do when crawling, I did not know. I just tried, transforming myself into some kind of propeller and was amazed, that I got ahead.
I have here under the comments so far 10634 spam messages or messages, which I cannot assign and of which I do not know, how they got under my texts. I have stopped, follow these messages “real people” to search, therefore it can be, that I, every leap year once, miss a comment, coming from a real person. This is deeply unfortunate.
My webmaster said, that he follows this webcrawler and finds out, where does it come from. But yes it is, as I understand, some kind of program. No idea.
I have also currently deactivated my YouTube channel and deleted the content, because the loss of someone and the whole situation has left me in a deep place, fell down a deep well shaft. Of course I can't produce myself from this hole below upwards. To produce oneself requires this trace of brashness and audacity towards oneself, it requires, the narcissistic joy in oneself.
Of course, I should definitely remain a narcissist and enjoy producing myself, because I have no other choice, where I don't live in any community, am unemployed and at home- respectively bed-bound.
But the enduring silence of the adjacent social world (on social media) is of course geared towards that, to break my narcissism, and they almost succeeded. Narcissism is vital here, definitely, when the normal connection to people is severed for various reasons.
In my world, people would reveal themselves on social media, produce themselves, show something of yourself ….. Not, to be applauded, rather, to enrich the exchange between people. To bring seduction and subversiveness to this one-dimensional place of infomass.
But nothing is right in my world anymore.
I feel trampled on. I feel, as my vision fades.
I am in agony, emptying themselves in wheelbarrows over me.
I see, that my life plan “out” is, the world out there has this something “romantic Idea” from the nineties:
“I want to live like a bohemian”, outdated several times with their hard facts. At first I didn't look, instinctive maybe, maybe because I knew, that me then, once I've looked out at the world; and beyond the western world; must be accused of decadence.
I try to tell myself, that the environment and this “Values”, that this vest holds up, encouraged my decadence;
this incredible wealth, in which to drown, acting like a bulwark. And besides this icy human coldness.
But that's no justification.
Humanity as a whole, but also my humanity is no longer safe for me.
I lie there for hours and think about a way out: how could i transform, without being able to move my limbs?
Is there no work, that I could do for money, lying in bed at home, where I have to think subliminally and just move my fingers?
Where could I travel to, to be somewhere else? And get a feel for it, if I even have a place or only tears. I would have to be pulled out of myself, I would have to play theater with a group of people,
I should be able to scoop food at an emergency shelter … I should be able to travel by train early in the morning, to be on top of a mountain in the afternoon, whose prospect I have never seen …..
…. anything that requires continuity is impossible, since I can only be present sporadically. Transformation is hardly possible, since, in my opinion, it presupposes physical movement, leaving the place.
I have to leave, but I do not know how, Not, where.
"There are people, early on they sense a frightening impossibility, to live on their own. I concede, that their existence is an exception to the laws of nature, not only, because this rift of fundamental nonconformity occurs outside of any genetic finality, but also because of the excessive clairvoyance, which manifestly transcends the patterns of perception of ordinary existence. It's enough sometimes, face them with someone else, where this one is just as pure, must be as transparent as you are, so that this untenable rift dissolves into a luminous aspiration, constantly aimed at the absolutely unattainable.” (Michel Houellbecq, “Expansion of the combat zone”, 1994)
(8.4.2022)