I’ve been fascinated with the relatively recent feature of the WordPress Reader: the Suggestions that show at the top, just above the feed. What’s so curious about them is:
I often have no idea what the suggested keywords mean. Homesteading? Sous vide? Come on, don’t swear at me! Don’t tell me what that is though, I already Googled and confirmed that I’m highly uninterested in these subjects.
The suggestions are extremely random. I would’ve thought that as all other advertising (which is what suggested content really means), the keywords would be personalised. I don’t think they are, otherwise I couldn’t have been offered Homeschooling, Politics and Toddlers, all of which I intensely don’t care about.
The whole thing is so hilarious! I waste time taking the three words suggested and using them in a poem or something. Like the thing below, which incorporates my latest incongruous suggestions of Beauty, yoga and Batman.
Beauty is—not a thing
But if it were
It would be
With my arms up
in a flying V
In the position
of a tree
I was on community service this week. I call it community service but it’s in fact a chore wheel where the six flats in the tenement take turns in cleaning the common areas. I hate doing it more than I reasonably should.
There’s no logic in my thinking, still, I can’t help telling myself, as I swing the mop, Damn, I have a PhD degree and here I am, cleaning after other people. Not so much after myself, as I’m not the one who drops chewing gums and corn at the stairs.
As I was scraping the flattened chewing gum stuck on one of the stone steps, I composed a poem in my head. After all, I’m still a doctor of English Literature. I’m also the concierge, which gives me the privilege to stick signs on the board. Like this.
WIPE YOUR BOOTS
KEEP THE COMMON AREAS CLEAN
KEEP THE DOOR LOCKED AFTER 8 PM
DON’T BE A PIG, BE A PERSON
OR JUST KEEP OUT
That’s it, that’s my poem. I’m proud of myself, how well I’ve cleaned everything. You could eat from the floor (if you don’t much mind getting hepatitis). If I catch anyone dropping food or fags on the stairs, I’ll beat them up with my mop.
I haven’t been around for a while. (Stating the obvious.) I’ve been busy busting my ass working like my life depended on it (it sort of does). It’s not that I have a history of overwork and psych ward incarceration (I do). So, to make up for it, I’ve penned a terrible pseudo-poem.
I’ve been quiet
Not keen on