Type. Click. Send. Repeat.

I remember reading stories of Hunter S. Thompson infamous calls to his colleagues. The rants came at odd hours, inevitability fuelled by the volume of ethanol his body had absorbed; the choice of victim a by product of some divine inspiration, I’m sure.

In light of my own eccentricities, the myth of Thompson made me feel normal. Although, rarely under the influence of anything other than OTC painkillers and a steady stream franchised iced vanilla americanos, I type.

…Emails can be pure gluttony for a word jockey… which means, I err on the side of over sharing…
A blinking cursor has always been and will forever be my vice. A comment box has the potential to be my personal stamp, and an email, well an email is an excuse for an aberration that may very well turn into the gold standard of procrastination aids: an exchange.

So as I issue reports, updates and friendly reminders to those I share something with, I insert a thought, the length of which is directly proportional to whatever is top of mind at that moment. For the most part, everything is fair game. The reward: a reply. If successful 1 exchange could last days or weeks – that’s a bossload of semi-regular, private, participant driven entertainment.

Emails can be pure gluttony for a word jockey like me. Which means, I err on the side of over sharing – it is my vice after all.

There are some who are elusive, perhaps even strategically verbal. I imagine that they don’t know what’s landed in their inbox. A stubbornly persistent, serial emailer, encoding an one-sided conversation for as long as it remains entertaining. Except for each word paints a picture of a person few people get to see. In retrospect, I fear that I say too much, but my words are unpretentious and authentic as they are unexpected. Because of that, I’m accepting of my eccentricity.

I understand that tomorrow is not promised, therefore, in this moment, I choose to imagine we are friends. So I’ll share this little piece of me and since there’s no obligation to reply, I’ll click “publish” and ship another piece of me to the past.

The moment I realized I had forced all my friends to watch AfroSquad, I knew that talking about Internet culture was where I was meant to be. Between reddit, Nat&Marie and eating junk food, there's just enough time for my personal blog Karmacake.com. That is all. That is it. Oh. Instagram: Karmacake

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