Twitter has been rapidly going the way of Myspace since the day it became the personal treehouse of everybody’s least favourite billionaire who isn’t orange. You can definitely feel the vital life force sucked out of The Bird since the takeover. In light of this unfortunate turn of events, I’ve been actively shopping around for alternate platforms to document this grandiose journey I have planned for the upcoming academic off-season.
I’ll probably hold my nose and post more on Instagram, even though I utterly can’t stand its superficial culture. Many moons ago, I came upon the Insta page of a perfect stranger with a long-forgotten handle whose feed was one of many I was browsing at random one night to get a sense of what sort of things people post on the ‘Gram. One of her posts was a lengthy heartfelt meditation concerning her grandfather’s then-recent Stage IV cancer diagnosis. While there’s certainly something to be admired about the guts it takes to write of things so personal and tragic in a public forum visited by millions daily, the strength of her message was instantly derailed by the accompanying image — a completely non sequitur goofy selfie taken with some filter that gave her cat whiskers or some shit. You got the sense that the whole point of mass communication was completely lost on her. Of course most of the comments revolved around how pretty she was.