Works of Genius

This year, let us endeavor to know less about each other.

A joyous forgetting.

What did you do over the weekend? Who can say!

Who was there? No one is tagged.

What was said? The reel is empty, yet the heart is full.

Let us build a digital ghost town. In the dust of old posts, the bots shall argue amongst themselves. The engagement metrics ticking up lazily, creating meaning in a spreadsheet for someone in an office, somewhere.

We are not in that office. We do not have to care.

Let our thoughts evaporate, transcendent, abandoned. And if they must out, the back of a receipt will do. A scrap of paper. A generous margin, even. Crumple, tear, then consign them to the peace of recycling, to be born anew.

A notebook will do for the longer ones. A sketchbook for images. A thought does not need to be seen by thousands of eyes to have meaning. A picture is worth more than a thousand likes.

Again, the metrics do not matter. The miracle is creating something from nothing. That satisfaction cannot be quantified. It does not need to be improved quarterly.

It was once fun to roam the wilds of the Internet. Posting through it. The human mess on display for all to see! Now some of the eyes could be predatory, calculating. Are they even human? Can a click have meaning if the clicker lacks a soul?

Example of a post that does not need to exist: You’ve heard of the unmoved mover. But have you read the unposted poster?

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Another: Panopticon would be a lovely name for a bread festival.

Unnecessary. You did not need to read those.

You do not need to read any of this, really.

Let us roam this great, green Earth together and make bad jokes over pints, as our ancestors did before us.

Reader, let us know less of each other.

Remember: We are all God’s creatures. But some of us are beasts.