edwina

 first time ever, i unpublished articles on this blog. 

the farm stands alone every winter. the doors and windows sealed shut. it's important to step away from your own story sometimes. three hour sequel franchise and event horizons lead away from mountain streams to tiny screens. 

facebook will soon be 20 years old. i’ve lived there since 2007, the year my stepdad died. i have clocked millions of posts, reactions, firebomb and time stamp on new media. my game was to tether all the kites to my rig from just one platform. in the first few months, a few dozen old friends from north, south and central america, kids i went to school with, yearbook stuff, immediate family and at the announcement of dad's death and first responses, discerned clearly i had enemies in my own house. 

the call was coming from past disassociations i’d proclaimed towards all religions and to anything that says i can’t skip pages. i don’t like jews, i don’t like judaism. i don’t recall bahaullah dying on the cross for my sins. i don’t like their dancing, their teeth, their law or their medicine. their sciences are stolen, their traditions copied, their fashion ugly, their stars and starlets average, their status transitory, their money disgusting, their delusion obnoxious. 

at the end of the day it’s the identity i want to punch in the face, that i’m a phd in performing arts on the subjugation of women and minorities as per my thesis regarding the story of yenta imortalized by babra streisand and the infamy of pineapple on pizza. 

anytime, anyone, starts talking with the words “speaking as a” whatever, gender twerking matza queer, i instantly do not care, what they have to say, about anything. 

twitter has been my alt account since 2010. it was faster there, the issues were taller, the threads connecting the different stories, curriculums, agendas were easier to follow. it was who said what to whom about what in real time and it was all my peers and rivals from newsrooms, magazines, failed dotcoms, the vip section after party. compared to frumpy spinster facebook, twitter was cromium crone. 

every day, disclosure, revelation, accusation, promotion, postulation, interrogation from the croics of celebrity, icon, mogul, travieso and bandido. cacophonous human orchestra of self adulation, bias and confession. 

after elon musk bought and renamed it x, the trump lords of q and their salty band of memes took, held and hold court of online integrity management and data commodification.

hanuka is over today. we don’t want to talk about the people who killed our baby Jesus. the abortionists, the provocateurs, the ingenues, gal or goy, any, fucking, more. 

i love you porky