In a former life I was called into a meeting with superiors and asked why I wasn’t trying to spread out the company’s url as far as I could. Why couldn’t we make a million different sites and all have them link back to our one main site? After all, it’s SEO! We need SEO! We need buzzwords!
My reply? Because that’s shady as hell and ruins the internet for everyone. Don’t be that guy, man. Don’t be that guy.
But I digress. Other than to say, if you find yourself workin’ on a link farm you should probably be asking yourself some serious questions.
I mean, I get it. I want love from the search engines too! I mean, for me, twitter is mostly my replacement for going out on a sidewalk with a sandwich board boldly declaring the end is here! No one cares. I’m adrift in a the lonely, plastic-filled ocean called the internet. I talk to myself and the flotsam and jetsam that nears my lifeboat. But I find comfort in that obscurity.
Wikipedia entry on Link Farm
Also, here’s the cool graphic that wikipedia uses to show a link farm:
Forget the world, forget Europe, forget France, beaches, island scenes and resort towns.
The world and universe is not an instagram feed. It is not FOMO or YOLO.
It is grocery shopping, eating terrible fast food and waiting in traffic.
I never know quite what I’m doing. I build and code and build and paint and draw and code and etc. etc. etc. until something coalesces.
I don’t believe in a singular work or statement.
With enough scripts you’ve made a program.
What the trying moment was in my life that caused me to type my feelings into facebook is unimportant. However, that facebook saw fit to add a smiley face emoji into it is.
With that came the final realizations that facebook just wasn’t into me. That they were really only after my data and how much money I could bring in for them. In fact, it’s not even like they were trying to make this relationship work. I invested my whole being into it and what? They just tried to adjust their algorithms to better suit my needs?
If ol’ Zuckerberg had really cared he would have liked me himself. Bah. Nuts to him is what I say.
My friends? Well, hopefully they’ll find me–I’m all over the internet like some kind of terrible STD.
A diabetic’s life seems to follow one of two patterns:
For the ordered life you can measure your day by the times you take your pills or injections, the times you have to test your blood, etc.
And because you don’t want the health consequences of the illness you’re roped into the cycle of maintenance. You must buy insulin, you must buy test strips, etc.
So, what’s interesting for me is both the cost of testing supplies and the nature of the secondary market that was created because of it.
For a 50 pack of Accu-Check SmartView test strips Walmart is charging you $89. Mind you, if you have insurance you may be able to get them slightly cheaper. Alternatively, you can get the ReliOn equivalent from them for $9.
Yes, yes, yes. There’s confidence in a brand! But there’s also the price lowering world of mass production. Point is when you sell billions of test strips and reap rewards from the insurance companies for your overcharging there’s no incentive to actually help the little guy.
Hence, a bizarre and terrible underground market is created and odd parking lot deals are performed from a craigslist ad.
It’s like spy stuff but for confused people who were thrown into poking themselves with needles in order to survive.
Mass production is the name of the game but not in any real productive sense. We want the ethereal. We want phantom likes and retweets. Comments, buzz, disruption and all of its trappings.
We want new.
We want something other than this.
Give us your images and content and make it fresh and fulfilling.
Give us a pat on the back for having a nice meal.
It’s terrifying to think about how precarious life can be. In my attempts to write about it I always end up with nothing more than a few sentences that are quickly backspaced away.
What’s to be said that hasn’t already been said?
Who is there to convince that hasn’t already been convinced?
There’s no changing minds or hearts. We’re all alone in our tragedies.
A few weeks ago and what I gather was caused by some terrible combination of sinus medication I had a dream that was singing a lounge version of “head like a hole” in the Regal Begal. Jack, Larry, the girls, etc. were all there. Michelob was served.
It was a delightful night but also one of terrible, poisonous nostalgia.
I feel that nostalgia feeds on us now. It was weaponized by the marketers to get us to buy back feelings of youth and a “time” but it has gone beyond that now. It has become a bizarre Goya-esque version of Saturn eating his children.
Its filters alter our images to reflect a moment that never existed.