I can’t recall what I dreamt about but when I woke up today, I felt like Google Searching my mom’s brother, but what came up was all of these things about my maternal grandfather instead, who shared the same name. The ancestry websites are just itching for updates. It freaked me out a bit since he’s been dead since ’95- and I was wondering why all these details about him and my grandmother and their kids popped right up but nothing on my uncle. He was the most popular man I knew growing up and the fact that I couldn’t find him anywhere, felt weird. That prompted me to look for my own father, and I found nothing, thankfully, as my father would roll over in his grave if everything about his life and connections was online. He was notoriously self contained, aloof and mysterious. He would never reveal the whereabouts of John Connor, and he certainly wasn’t open about himself to strangers. He was one of those people who was wild but only if you were in the know- and very reserved (still clearly a nerd though) in the streets. Of course looking for him and finding nothing, but seeing all of that about granddad made me nervous- as I did not want there to be a ton about me as a human online, like my father before me- which is odd as I write this…so I did an ego search. Those kind of reckless connections on the internet can ruin lives, and what I have done and who I have known might hurt some other dumb ass people, and I’d rather not. I’m there, but its faint and not “me” mostly Pixie Prince, which itself took a couple of search pages to find and that made me feel better. My alter ego is online, which is fine, it’ll make my mother mad which is a bonus, but not much else is available which is good. As much as I write here and sell the books etc, I don’t really want there to be a ton of “me” out in the world like that, never have. If talent is exposed, it should be, it can’t be hidden anyway, but all the rest is just fodder for fools. All my stints on social media have been short because after a few weeks I can’t see why I would be there, keeping up with people I don’t like or following trends that don’t matter. I’m not on dating sites anymore or lifestyle social apps and it is a peaceful existence. My namesake is doing well so far but its clearly not me, and I’m happy that she is the one who comes up when anyone looks for me, as it feels like I don’t exist, and as sad as that feeling can be, especially to someone who hasn’t survived in the darkness, to me it is home. Acceptance is everything. I’m grateful that I was born at a time when there weren’t many records that weren’t coffee table books and you had to be talented to be famous. Not that the social world was better then than now, its been trash every since I’ve been alive, but I can still move about the earth freely and anonymously, which is a relief. I’d like to be famous after I am dead, I always have, and the cool thing about wanting that, is I can pretend I have it, and therefore not do anything in particular to get it, as I will never really know about it if it occurs, since I won’t exist. But I don’t need any other proof of my hot messes than my experience and honestly, the fact that most of it only lives through my words and few videos and photos that by now should be yellow and faded and crumpled and gone, I have not betrayed my generation. The few people who do follow me in limited spaces in cyberland are from all over the earth and unbeknownst to me just how I am used to and prefer. Although every once in a while it is nice if someone writes to you to tell you how much something you posted or penned meant to them, but having the whole earth do that is so fickle- the collective turns on you and fast. Its much easier to write about what you observe when no one is observing you- easier to drop all masks and be honest, and if I gotta be sick, I don’t need to be sick in front of a crowd, even if they paid me these days. Not really because of shame, all of the people I might care about being embarrassed because of something I have done publicly are dead but it just feels to me, as desperate. I’ve done enough, that quite frankly could have had me on all sorts of provocative covers, had the right/wrong people been privy or in the room. I know what I did and you know what you did and that is plenty. I’d hate to have to defend my actions from a week ago, let alone 1997. I don’t even really like being in the background of other people’s photos online or having people take pictures of me when we are together and post them, how much feeding of the machine do we actually need to do? I’ve done enough. I still cannot remember what I dreamt or why I wanted to look my uncle up in the first place, but I hope he and his family are well, wherever they are. I think about that side of my family a lot when it gets close to my birthday, as I was “raised” around them, and I find it funny that the two guys I cared about the most in that tribe – my mom’s brother and my dad- don’t exist on the interwebs in an easily accessible way. I’m sure they could be found, and so could I if some sociopath really spent the energy to search but under what circumstances would somebody be compelled to do so? No reason. I’m sure there will be others who have the name I have and go on to do plenty that will be catalogued and categorized on the internet and I won’t care as I die, surely. I’ll try to worry less, or at least, just check once a year, probably around this time, to make sure I can act a fool on my birthday, and not have to worry about it being a reel on some loser’s feed, getting hundreds of mocking likes from dopamine addicts with low self esteem. I’m so fucking judgy. But I can do that because, nobody who doesn’t matter to me knows me and I am keen to keep it like that. Its safer with the lights off if you know the terrain. I could fill a castle with stories of my lived experience- and no records of my exploits that wouldn’t be self incriminating for the holder have made it to the surface, thank Hera, and since I’m semi retired from extravagant shenanigans, if I behave somewhat, I should remain in the clear, plus nobody is checking if the wise women used to be loose ones when they were young. Has it been a horrible life, sure but in many ways a fun one… safely on the low. Best part about aging is the juicy bits stick.
Be a hero…https://books2read.com/b/b6MW2Z
My Mind, My Mood, My delicately poisoned pen... 