Social Media Is Egotistical

So I saw this article a few days ago People who post their fitness routine to Facebook have psychological problems, study claims. It claims that people who post updates on their fitness regime are narcissists. This irked me, not because I think it’s wrong but more because it misses the entire point of social media. Everything you post on social media is narcissistic. Those pictures of your lunch, drinks in the airport, your lovely baby, your car, that highly interesting piece from the Economist, that pseudo-intellectual, quasi-political poetry… ahem.. all of it.


So sharing about your fitness is a sign of an unhealthy ego,

that maybe all too often your mother hugged you,

all those years ago.


It’s really not all that different

-from the rest of my Facebook wall.

Sunday brunch photographs, and diatribes on football.

Weekday holiday check-ins and cocktails by the pool.

and those club bathroom selfies grinning like a fool,

Boasts of doing Yoga and finding inner light,

and pictures of brand new cars, effusing in delight.

The “look at my cute baby, cuter than you know whose,”

and the “look at me I’m so fun, last night I drank this much booze.”

Couples showering each other with public displays of affection,

and attention grabbing statements begging for interjection.


You can’t separate ego and social media, they are one and the same.

So get back to sharing cat pics and quit with all the shame.


A Recurring Nightmare

I don’t actually have a recurring nightmare of being chased through a moonlit forest by certain possible american presidential candidates but let’s pretend that I do as for some reason it’s funnier that way.


I found my self lost, wandering in a wood,

searching to get home not knowing if I could.

The moon up above lit the landscape below,

trees filled to the horizon planted row by row.

Grass on the ground glistened in pale moon light,

spics and specks of dust on the breeze took flight.

In the peace of the night what my ear did perceive,

was the gurgling of streams and the rustling of leaves.

While off in the dark I heard the fidgeting of small mammals,

but stomping closer and closer a much bigger animal.

As the thump, thump, thump grew ever nearer,

the beast’s ranting and raving became ever clearer.

I heard a snippet here and a snippet there,

and in between I heard it coughing on hair.

*cough* Megyn Kelly *cough* bimbo *cough*

beautiful wall *cough* fifty feet never enough!

A chill ran down my spine and my hands became sweaty,

my stomach turned as I recognised this yeti.

I turned to run but I feared it too late,

t’was so close now I felt doomed to my fate.

Fast as bowl in an Indian game of cricket,

I bolted from my marks as it burst through the thicket.

I tried to look away but was caught in its glare,

two eyes like cats’ arses poked out from under its hair.

Its wispy hair blowing in the wind swayed like grass,

and its lips pursed in anger look like the hole of an ass.

Its skin was all mottled and orange like Cheetos,

and the fingers on its hands were tiny as a baby toes.

It truly was hideous, a horror to behold,

and I ran for my life if the truth is to be told.

I crashed through branches and broke through the brush,

jumped over stumps and startled several foxes in my rush.

Even as fast I ran the creature kept pace,

I worried for what would be at the end of this race.

I don’t know how long I ran, it seemed like an hour,

sweaty and tired, I really was in need of a shower.

I came to a clearing very much pleased that it was lost from my sight,

so sweaty and tired I decided a sit would be alright.

I sat and I panted and I tried to catch my breath,

when before me I saw a sight that scared me almost to death.

Silhouetted in the moonlight a shadow rose from the earth,

it was a hulking creature to ugly for a mother to birth.

Its eyes were fishlike dead, like that of an office worker,

its features carved from misery and body of a hamburger.

Its mouth unsettling and shaped like a that of a goldfish,

I looked around for a genie, I only needed one wish.

It reared on its hind legs and showed its great bulk,

I ran there and then, there was no waiting on this hulk.

I ran and I ran but it sailed close behind,

I was too tired to run and feared my fate was now signed.

Still I ran and I ran though my limbs begged to slump,

when up ahead I heard that familiar thump, thump, thump.

There I found myself twixt pig and puffed corn,

the horrors ahead made me wish I had never been born.

The beasts looked to me and then to each other,

then in animal tongues berated one another.

With vicious rasping mouths and hideous features,

though not understanding, I felt the hate between these creatures.

Their yelling boomed as they thumped on their chests,

I nearly swooned as my senses, by noise were oppressed.

Louder and louder, they grew closer and closer,

soon came to punches either side of my shoulders.

They ripped and they struck and they beat and they yelled,

I huddled low, curled up like a chick still fully shelled.

The noise grew so loud it filled my world with its violence,

when suddenly I woke. Panting, sweat soaked, in still and sacred silence.




Put On A Smiling Face

Thanks to many brave people depression has become easier to talk about. It’s still not easy, it leaves you very vulnerable. Though we’ve come a long way our attitude has changed from one which brushes aside depression as self-pitying whining to one where it’s a problem to be fixed. There are many forms of depression and each with its own problems, but for me it comes in phases which I know will pass. To me it’s an inconvenience, like rain, and like rain it’s something I want to complain about, but I don’t. It’s easier to stay quiet. When it’s seen as a problem you always fear people’s advice. The last thing you need when you feel like your life’s shit and unravelling by the second is someone confirming that for you.


You’ve just got to smile,

only for a short while.

Keep sadness hidden,

until all company’s ridden.

Then safe all alone,

expose a face of stone.

Your true face,

with all false pretense erase.

With no contrived laughter,

to stop questions thereafter.

To stop examining of behaviour,

and thinking that you might need a saviour.

To stop the inside from showing,

and others from knowing,

that inside you’re manic,

swirling in existential panic.


How are you doing tonight?

Always answer “all right.”

Easier than explaining,

fear of looking like complaining.

Stop anyone from thinking,

that you’re anaesthetising by drinking.

Running away from emotion,

by guzzling potion.

Stop hearing the same advice,

once, twice, thrice,

“try and be happy,”

“no need to feel crappy,”

“pull yourself together,”

but there’s no need for “just feel better,”

after all it’s just passing weather.