Figurative Onanism

by Spencer Lund

Mar 10
This…this needs to stop.
Facebook, “Facebook it,” “tweet it,” needs to stop. 
Complaining about people who share everything online needs to stop. 
Remembering the snapshot you took in your head, needs to start.
Tumblring rather than seeing a shrink, needs to stop. 
When did people’s entire self-worth become tethered to an open API? Yeah, that needs to stop, too. 
I don’t see a lot of my old friends as much as I used to, and it’s made me enjoy widdle useless and ultimately trivial instances. 
But they’re MY moments, and I never understood why everyone was so quick to let others in on the secret.
I’ll bring all those tokens of synapse connections to my grave funeral pyre, and then into the ether as energy when I slip/slough/trip like a moth to flame.
It’s why I inherently distrust the young people in the world. They’re too eager to raise the curtain on the banal moments that make them individuals. Hah - like young people can be different for any reason other than to be different. adults are like that too, though — as you’ll find
In the end, we’re just dust and grit, but I don’t want to share my flecks of carbon. They’re mine, and I’m not gonna get any others.
If you wanna know what’s going on in my life — well, yowse people who follow this Tumblr will not, and should not, care what the hell is going on with _______ _____ _______ ____.

I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away  What portion of me be Assignable - and then it was There interposed a Fly -
With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz - Between the light - and me -  And then the Windows failed - and then I could not see to see -

emily dickinson didn’t get any lovin’ and churned a lot of butter by herself in an amHERst pantry; her slant rhyme reads like rheumatoid of the pen sometimes, as terrified of . as DFW was of , but she never would have joined Facebook [.]
And that takes gvts because everyone was joining facebook in the 1800s even fvckin’ thoreau; he couldn’t stand the silence in his prison cell, and couldn’t wait to update his status as “In prison, through civil disobedience,’ so he could tag Gandhi and MLK Jr. and caption dat ish: ‘I’m the tits.’
Emerson was more pinterest and whitman was [totes] reddit
where was I — oh right procrastinating…
I’ve been reading too much Lee Child and ignoring some of the Saunders I’ve still got on an old nook (yeah). my old man is 6’5” so I picture Reacher as a hybrid of tom cruise, my pops and Howard Roark (no, not John Galt you fvckin’ Alger sycophant)
where was I — oh right procrastinating
I wish my drivel read half as well as Markson
maybe the liner notes will seem precocious

This…this needs to stop.

Facebook, “Facebook it,” “tweet it,” needs to stop. 

Complaining about people who share everything online needs to stop. 

Remembering the snapshot you took in your head, needs to start.

Tumblring rather than seeing a shrink, needs to stop. 

When did people’s entire self-worth become tethered to an open API? Yeah, that needs to stop, too. 

I don’t see a lot of my old friends as much as I used to, and it’s made me enjoy widdle useless and ultimately trivial instances. 

But they’re MY moments, and I never understood why everyone was so quick to let others in on the secret.

I’ll bring all those tokens of synapse connections to my grave funeral pyre, and then into the ether as energy when I slip/slough/trip like a moth to flame.

It’s why I inherently distrust the young people in the world. They’re too eager to raise the curtain on the banal moments that make them individuals. Hah - like young people can be different for any reason other than to be different. adults are like that too, though — as you’ll find

In the end, we’re just dust and grit, but I don’t want to share my flecks of carbon. They’re mine, and I’m not gonna get any others.

If you wanna know what’s going on in my life — well, yowse people who follow this Tumblr will not, and should not, care what the hell is going on with _______ _____ _______ ____.

I willed my Keepsakes - Signed away
What portion of me be
Assignable - and then it was
There interposed a Fly -

With Blue - uncertain - stumbling Buzz -
Between the light - and me -
And then the Windows failed - and then
I could not see to see -

emily dickinson didn’t get any lovin’ and churned a lot of butter by herself in an amHERst pantry; her slant rhyme reads like rheumatoid of the pen sometimes, as terrified of . as DFW was of , but she never would have joined Facebook [.]

And that takes gvts because everyone was joining facebook in the 1800s even fvckin’ thoreau; he couldn’t stand the silence in his prison cell, and couldn’t wait to update his status as “In prison, through civil disobedience,’ so he could tag Gandhi and MLK Jr. and caption dat ish: ‘I’m the tits.’

Emerson was more pinterest and whitman was [totes] reddit

where was I — oh right procrastinating…

I’ve been reading too much Lee Child and ignoring some of the Saunders I’ve still got on an old nook (yeah). my old man is 6’5” so I picture Reacher as a hybrid of tom cruise, my pops and Howard Roark (no, not John Galt you fvckin’ Alger sycophant)

where was I — oh right procrastinating

I wish my drivel read half as well as Markson

maybe the liner notes will seem precocious


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