“Well you know, I have 17 followers on my HandLive account–and, it´s a lot of pressure. When I go to the gym, they go to the gym.”

“Well you know, I have 17 followers on my HandLive account–and, it´s a lot of pressure. When I go to the gym, they go to the gym.”

I pause; I want the punchline to be super sweet so he thinks that I´m awesome… and go!

“You know that it´s like I´m constantly teaching a spinning yoga digital cooking class in front of a crowd”, I take a sip of coffee; I raise my hand.

“More sugar”, I tell the waiter.

I continue as I recline in my chair.

“I mean what kind of shit show would it be if you were riding a bike while baking a cake and talking about deep tissue massages while playing with 16 cats?”

“It sounds entertaining!”

I pause; oh… he may be right?

I pull out my notepad.

Note To Self: Baking With Cats While Having Deep Conversations with your host J-to-the-Me.

I put my notepad back in my pocket; he´s going to make me rich!

“So as I was saying”, I pause as the waiter hands me my taza of coffee, “when I go to the gym, they go to the gym; when I make a painting, they consider it, and how they are wasting their lives, we´ll talk about that later; when I shower, they make fun of me as if I never shower–twice this year, if you´re counting.”

“Sounds like a lot of pressure.”

“Oh!”, I continue as I take a sip and set down the taza, “that´s not the half of it–last week, I went to a restaurant and the host asked me ´how many´ and I´m like ´party of 2´ but then I remember my followers so I´m like ´yeah, we prob need a bigger table´ and then even though I was there with my human person, I had to converse with my 17 followers like ´hey this cake is delicious–hey Paul can you pass the digitalpapas´ but then I remember that they are just digitalfollowers and not ACTUALLY in there at the table so clearly Paul can´t pass me anything physical–note to self that there´s an invention somewhere in there, that idea–so anyways, now we´re, me and my 17 digitalfollowers eating cake… and I´m trying to speak with 17 plus 1 human people when I realize that the person in front of me is not getting my attention–so I´m like ´so do you like this cat cafe, cat?´ and then I remember that animals can´t speak and I go back to hanging out with my 17 digitalfollowers. And the whole time, I´m like leading this spinning yoga cooking class.”

“So what are saying?”

“It´s a good thing.”

He pauses; he turns to the waiter and signals for another round of biscottis.

“You know”, I continue as I take a sip of coffee, “if I do the right thing, they also do the right thing, or at least consider it; it was not always that way. I think it´s good–and, I feel confident being in charge of these 17 digitalfollowers.  Like… when I wake up… to when I go to sleep… I´m like ´Paul cut back on the cake before bed–but I can´t actually say anything directly so instead I post a photo of me at the gym and Paul sees it, I think or hope, or regrardless, and he´s like ´oh man! Cake would be good but look at J-to-the-Me at the gym–that´s PROB a better choice.´ And like Paul is in his digitalmancave and I don´t see him and he doesn´t respond and I don´t know, really, what he does, but I feel nice knowing that I got to him in his…. let´s call it ´hiding´ place… and gave him a good message–it can counter-act the other messages, that, although appropriate and effective–I can be an alternative.  I have peace in my life, at night, when I´m laying in bed looking up at the ceiling or out the window or watching digitalnovelas—I don´t know who or where the message goes, but I know that I sent it. I feel like I´m a good person–at the end of the day, that´s all that matters to finding peace. Can you look in the digitalpretend mirror in your mind, and with all the evidence of your life, that only you know, say to yourself–

That I´m a good person?

I feel nice that really when I´m teaching my spinning yoga cooking class with my 16 cats–it´s really a class on exhibiting good person behavior.  It doesn´t mean being the hero, per se, or being a good person--it´s about when I look at my life, as only I can, as I know me more then you could ever, 

When the negativity arises, as it always does, and I think–you´re a horrible person.

I always, idiomatically, respond–but there´s no evidence to support that.  Once, at some point, you´ll start to understand a bit about the world–you´ll see that you PROB have done some horrible things… in the past.  But, have you made peace with them, have you learned to understand, have you internalized that beyond the sense that you are a horrible person–

You don´t have any evidence, internally, of that.

Observe yourself in a science based approach–you have a hypothesis that you are a bad person so examine the results of the tests.  Does the evidence support this claim? I, personally, really doubt it.”

The writer pauses; I think he wants me to start paying for the biscottis.

“Just this one time”, I reply as I lean back in my chair at the cafe by the beach, “can you pick up this round of biscottis?”

The writer pauses; knew it!

He reaches into his pocket; pulls out his wallet; opens it; it´s empty.

“Oh no!”, he replies as he picks up a biscotti off the tray, “it´s empty! Guess you have to pay for this round–I´ll get it next time!”

I pause; I roll my eyes.

“My pleasure”, I reply as I take my digitaltarjeta out of my pocket and signal for the waiter to come over.


“So why do you keep meeting the writer?”, HR asks as she turns her head to me.

“He listens”, I reply as I take a sip of soda, “it´s like free therapy.”

“Free normally means that you get what you pay for”, she replies as she sets her lata down, “I think you should consider investing in real therapy–for us.”

I pause; I turn my head to look out the window and then back to her.

“Free ends up being more expensive on a long enough timeline.”



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