The Technology of Grief
Outlook on my phone lately has been forcing me to triage a subset of old email about 40-60 at a time every few days to pop the count badge. Some of it has been interesting. I've made it back to July of last year so far.
Came back to email my father sent off the photo collage he made for my grandmother's funeral. I saw it a lot that funeral so I didn't even bother opening the mail having seen the subject line.
The body said "Please share." 😭
Smeap is the honk of a flamingo. Smeap was also at least once, a storybook land at the weird intersection of TV ads and the worlds they seem to inhabit. It was a place where wars were fought over sodas, and talking polar bears had very good reasons to guard soda machines. It was a place where rainbow color candies were harvested for electric power. It was a place where a prairie dog might move to big city inhabited mostly by Pink Flamingos to follow her dream to be private investigator, only to get slowly entangled in the seedy underbelly of crime and prohibited soda trading of the Neon Flamingos and their syndicate. Social media at times lately feels like it has become almost entirely seedy underbelly with very little upside. Maybe it needs more storybook worlds.