[The following is a recorded statement from an early 21st century Instagram influencer, who we know were wiped out in a genocidal assault after the influencers refused to stop marketing; it is a cogent document from a dark time, and one which has served as further proof of the peculiar idiocy of techno-industrial Homo sapiens at the exact moment before the species’ collapse.]
One of the great accomplishments of our time is that everyone fancies themselves a master of the still and moving image. This is of course the result of the democratization of the technology. Every creature with a smartphone, including most notably myself, now can shoot pictures and video, which in my case are entirely of me.
It’s a beautiful thing to be me – that is, to express myself, to honor myself, to care about myself and my identity, and to repeat this expression over and over in images.
For example, the recent video of my anus opening and closing just prior to and after the act of defecation. A masterpiece of selfhood but too often misunderstood. Also, the recent pictures of me hiking in the woods later that day with a lit candle. Incredible.
Additionally, the series of photos of myself this past winter snowshoeing in the Catskill Mountains to the soundtrack of a three-year-old immigrant child wailing in a cell for her mother. I designed it as a lament for those who suffer as I do for feeling so deeply, especially when such things affect my ability to influence.
I have many such photos where I’m expressing my artistic relationship with the world as it relates primarily to who I am, what I am, my name, my logo, my business, my current sales, my potential sales, what I can do for your business, what you can do for mine, and how we can mutually profit.
The place where I feel most at home, of course, is Instagram, where I find myself posting pictures of everything that I am, all my days’ journeys, all that matters to me and me and sometimes you but only when you means me.
So for example: I was climbing this incredible mountain when I found myself being more than me, which was something extraordinary and not easily captured on film. But I did it! It was me, standing in front of the camera, not saying a word, except when I said, “I AM.”
Like Jehovah, yes. Exactly. I am. I am I! Am I I? Could an MRI tell if I am I?
Come to think of it – who knows?!? There is a GREAT facility near you that provides MRIs, as here depicted in my latest post at Instagram, where it just happens that I’ve been getting tons of MRIs, and I just love it…
[here the recorded document fades and the voice of the Instagram influencer degenerates into a weird hysterical whining, one which researchers today, in 2134, have identified as something called “the advertising spot”….]