Pretty soon it will actually point job offers my way, as well as guiding ambitious young literary agents to my (nonexistent) doorstep.
People still exist (beyond gamed clickers of pages and boosters of content on Google, Amazon, Apple Music, Spotify) as arbitrators of taste, right? Don’t answer that.
To which I rejoin––having gotten a quick look at beauty pageant literary culture, where aging ideals and carefully hedged pocketbooks are the lusted after definer of….
Not having to deal with the crap is kind of the point.
Copyright laws and all the rest should assure that the IP is approximately in order, if readers or listeners ever arise of a magnitude that warrants a paid professional deigning to speak with me (or my estate).
“I will not converse with bots, corporate entities, or those who are politically correct, on either side.”
In other words, I speak with myself quite often.
I dream my dreams, as free from encumbrance as it is possible to be on this burdensome earth. In an age of not-very-correct information, who can buy the sky?
Standing firm against the current,
Life itself a big deterrent.
Be seeing you.