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  • Being in a Dick Hijab: Getting To Know My Audience

    I’ve been putting myself out there into the cosmos of the Interwebs for over a decade now – weaving my way into the collective consciousness one “like” at a time. It’s been a slow process of gaining an audience of people curious about what will come out of my mouth hole, especially considering the plethora of gaping holes to gaze into on your screen. Of all the dark abysses that are available on the Internet, I thank you for choosing mine over the myriad of anal cavities currently begging for your attention. Namaste.

    I’m grateful for all the various mediums to actively prostitute my art on. I can pimp myself through a variety of social media platforms, and trick people into consuming the contents of my psyche. It’s a gift to be born in this time where I can broadcast my thoughts out into the hive mind, to desperately buzz around trying to make my quasi-feminist, pseudo-intellectual, semi-philosophical, and comedic-dramatic mark on society. Yet within this quest to create content for the Internet warning people of the dangerous distraction of consuming too much content on the Internet there is one element- perhaps one of the most important- that I have no real control over. Who the hell engages with my work?

    When I think about whom I’m creating my art for, the consumer in my mind is a woman wearing hemp flowing robes that’s free-bleeding onto the dirt floor of her yurt to fertilize her organic chia seeds while hosting a scared ceremony of the high priestess to end world suffering through mass meditation and yoni inspired dance. Not that I’m trying to be super specific or anything – and in truth, I’m happy anyone takes the time to read me or watch my videos. Yet I do have to say, when I go through my Google analytics I’m noticing that my audience isn’t exactly what I expected.

    For one there’s my blog. I’ve made many friends through my writing – glorious individuals I’ve never met, but who’ve resonated with my words, and supported me throughout the years. Yet when I look at the top searches that bring people to my blog, I have to say, it’s the most disturbing shit I’ve ever read in my life. Here’s a sweet example of what’s on there today.

    Wow right??? And that’s actually a tame one! “Kid’s eating cum” isn’t as bad as the one last week of “little girls choking on dick.”

    This is HIGHLY disturbing, but maybe also a victory? I picture the man who’s typing these pedophilic, misogynist, and perverted searches into his Google bar – he get’s out his lotion and Kleenex, all ready to beat his meat to the sight of whatever horrid “virgin sister fucking brother” visuals he can find. As he’s going through his many options, lubing up his hand and practicing his intro strokes, he then lands on my blog to read about ending the patriarchy!!!??? Assuming he makes it even half way through before realizing there is in fact no description of “pussy Viagra,” I think by that point I’d have made a real impression on that guy!

    Yeah, maybe he’s not my ideal reader, but at least I’m not preaching to the converted??

    Then there is my video work. Again, I’d think I’d be making videos for ladies that fashion their hair in fallopian tubes while adorning themselves in uterine lined scarves weaved from their pubic hair and singing the ancient chants of Mother Gaia into pink seashells. Yet I recently put out one of my stand up comedy sets on Instagram and when I looked at the engagement statistics, 83% men clicked on the video!? Keep in mind, the subject of the video was “why men fear the matriarchy,” yet majority men clicked on it! I’m assuming neither women nor men were reading the title of the video, and simply decided whether or not to investigate further pending on my looks. So men thought I was hot enough to see what I was doing, and women decided I was hot enough to NOT be curious about what I was up to?

    I became so disheartened when trying to understand what was going on. Yes there is a real hilarity of men clicking on my video thinking I had a face they’d want to fuck and then having to hear about the matriarchy, yet I was equally despondent my fellow sisters were not inspired to see what I was about. What was I doing wrong?

    I then posted a video where I was dressed as a giant penis, and my male friend was costumed as a vulva, and wouldn’t guess it… the engagement for that video was 50/50. It was an equal opportunity genital video! I was delighted I had accrued more female interest, yet could not help but wonder if that was because I was in a dick hijab?

    Honestly I’m in no position to be overly picky about who’s absorbing the work I share. Every “meeting” with people with power that I’ve ever had trying to take myself to the next level in my career has stressed the need to develop my audience and accrue hundreds of thousands of “likes,” “shares” and “followers.” So who am I to reject lonely men seeking to furiously masturbate??

    March 7, 2018 • Ambitions, Emotions, Musings • Views: 4445

  • It is not the post you like, but the person who posted it

    If I post something on Facebook and nobody likes it… am I still a real person? Or do I melt away into the postmodern quantum conundrum of oblivion? If the parallel universe of social media conflates with real life, will I fade out of the picture like Marty McFly in “Back to the Future?” Can I exist in both worlds if one of those ecospheres doesn’t acknowledge my updates? Who am I if nobody likes me?

    Public validation and social currency have become the life-blood of existence. In order to survive these modern times we need food (organic), water (without toxic chemicals), shelter (that will endure the pending global warming catastrophes), wifi (obvi), and 1 click gestures of adoration.

    I check my social media partly to see what you are up to – but mostly to see what you think of me. Did you like that thing I posted about that thing? What about that picture of me? It was kind of silly so I don’t come off as vain, but cute enough where you still think I am cute. What about that comment I made about whatever you wrote about? Did you like that I commented on it? Did you comment back? Hello… Is anybody in there? You guys, I am uncomfortably numb!

    (If you didn’t get that Pink Floyd reference, then please listen to more Pink Floyd while high on acid… thanks).

    I am one of those people who gets some “likes,” but not a TON of “likes.” Enough “likes” to feel sort of “liked,” but not enough to feel revered.

    There are people who get hundreds of “likes.” I am jealous of those people. I don’t think they are posting better shit than me? Their dumb baby isn’t cuter than mine! I also share articles about race wars and dying bees! So why are people “liking” their stupid statuses more than mine? Ohhhh right… because it is not always the post you “like,” but the actual PERSON posting it.

    Facebook “likes” are ways we connect to people. We don’t just “like” for the sake of “liking,” but so that person will NOTICE our “like.” It can be a flirty “like”, an act of friendship “like”, or even a way to kiss someone’s ass “like.” Sometimes I “like” someone’s crappy crap just so they will one day “like” me, Toni, the human being. We “like” for all sorts of reasons beyond “liking” the actual content presented. Sometimes I don’t even read what I “like,” but I want the person to know I like them so I do it anyway.

    I think I have become a “like” slut ☹

    But I am also an equal opportunity “liker.” If I am floating down my feed and see someone post something with no “likes,” I will like it!! I can’t let you go down like that. Even if I don’t like the post, or you that much… unless you are a crusty dick hole and talking about sodomizing seals, I will probably “like” it for the sense of comradery. You are not alone in the world. I am here for you – validating your existence and contribution to the interwebs!

    It feels good to collect “likes”- even though you can’t trade them, or cash them in. They aren’t exactly practical, but they are addicting. “Likes” are like my self-esteem. Yet the tragedy of the high of being “liked,” is that we inevitably feel the low when we are not. Man… if I am going to feel this yucky every time I look at my computer, I might as well get into hard-core twin porn.

    The insanity of it all is that adulthood is supposed to be that time of life when you finally don’t give a fuck. You don’t need your parent’s approval. There aren’t any popular kids on the playground to impress. This is our moment to be our authentic selves, and not give a shit about shit. But now I have to feel bad about myself if only 2 people “like” the article I posted that Bill Moyers wrote about Ferguson. What the fuck? He had some really important things to say!? Don’t you “like” me enough to “like” the things I want you to read?

    (How can you not “like” me? I wear sweaters with hoods that I have had since college, and my eyes are tired from spending too much time in front of a computer!?)

    fb-likes-blog-(i)

    December 8, 2014 • Musings, Relationships • Views: 4945