Living inside a giant

More and more I consider myself as living inside a giant animal. Let’s say an anonymous animal.  And I’m a kind of cell, travelling around this bigger body. Until here everything works fine. The problem begins when I realize the animal is falling apart. them I start to loose contact with the survival of the animal itself and became kind of an explorer, going up and down, looking how my fellow cells do their jobs, being part of it and at the same time a witness. On this eternal falling of the bigger body, I can appreciate certain details, somehow like a patron, which tells me that, even falling, the animal wants to live.

 

Social marketing walking dead

Here comes the wave and it’s huge! Once in a time Internet boils up on its own communication possibilities, attracting a quite peculiar avatar, the dream sealer or the dream sailor as you which.

The first time I noticed it was when they discovered email and the result is very well-known by the name of Spam. So they discovered websites and the result was banners and popups. After they found blogs and never an opinion was so much stretched before. And now they found social media as a target.

(Well at this point let’s clarify: don’t get me wrong, this is not about blame, it’s an exercise of understanding. )

So now it’s the time of social marketing… More and more I’m seeing a strange use of the social networks available. These misuses have different colors but in general it follows a pattern. The same pattern as when someone knock on your door or call you with the strange goal of making a sale without concern about what’s being sold is useful or not and in extreme cases even knowingly trying to create a necessity out of nothing.

The conclusion is waste in its core significance which is waste of life.

So, here is my piece on social marketing walking dead… Would you buy it?

Rainy morning

Rain on the window by Nicu Bubulei

Rain on the window by Nicu Bubulei

Waiting for the train on rainy fresh morning. Outside. Orange trees everywhere. Horizon. Heavy clouds playing with the wind. A column of rain slowly walking trying not to step on any tree. It’s big foot of water, gentle foresting the air and leaving a wet footprint.

One’s-Self I Sing

One’s-Self I Sing

One’s-Self I Sing

One’s-Self I Sing

One’s-self I sing, a simple separate person,
Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse.

Of physiology from top to toe I sing,
Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for the Muse, I say
the Form complete is worthier far,
The Female equally with the Male I sing.

Of Life immense in passion, pulse, and power,
Cheerful, for freest action form’d under the laws divine,
The Modern Man I sing.

Walt Whitman

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