Filigree & Shadow

This morning I awoke to a notification from Instagram: “Someone thinks that you might need some extra support at the moment and has asked us to help.” I tapped this notification to see a screen letting me know “You're not alone.” Which is true, because I have a husband and three cats. I also know the difference between a single right quote and a typerwiter apostrophe, but I digress.

Am I okay? Are *any* of us okay? I mean, well,

*gestures outside*

The irony is not lost on me that a platform responsible for dysmorphic concerns – according to a study published in 2020 – is also trying to play the concerned entity with offers to contact a helpline or a friend. Nice try, Jan.

I am actually doing okay. I just received a phone call that my offer for a retail storefront in Amsterdam was accepted by the property owner, and I will soon be very busy after we iron out a few details about the space.

It’s entirely possible that Meta laid off damn near everyone at Instagram and we have AI observing what we look at in our feeds. In my defence, Meta chose to show me a clip from “Dying for Sex,” starring Michelle Williams, Jenny Slate, Sissy Spacek, and Paula Pell who delivered a knockout monologue about hospice. Maybe Meta AI watched me watching the clip and thought I needed extra support. Maybe someone thinks they’re being clever and reported me to Meta because I did or wrote something that offended their sensibilities. Whomst – WHOMST – can say.

If you, dear someone, thought I was insufferable before, just you wait.

Oopsie-daisy. You weren’t supposed to see this yet.