A Journal of the Plague Year 3.0 Day 7

23rd December 2020

I’m getting sucked into Youtube. When one is left to their own devices, say the high security wing, a desert island in the mid-Pacific, or Hatfield, one is also left out of touch to the stern, reprimanding eye of society. With only your personal algorithm, Gilbert, for company.

Gilbert knows your darkest desires, and fears, and will seek to entertain them. No one is stopping him as he crafts your very own echo chamber, personalised with wolfen smile. Gilbert has been known to create such clickfests, upping the drama after every vid ends, in order for you to start on the next one -notably, he’s been found to automatically assign more and more extreme content, for say someone interested in veganism, or animal rights, or immigration policies, or Islam; to anyone becoming a convert. He lights the way as a one stop shop for more and more righteousness, conspiracy theories, then portals to the dark web, for example seeking to avenge the millions of Muslims killed these past decades at Western hands when you were only looking up times for Isha, or shisha. As happened to Safiyya Shaikh, born Michelle Ramsden. She converted in 2007 after the kindness of a Muslim family of neighbours impressed her, but ended up wanting to bomb St Paul’s Cathedral.

This is what Youtube withdrawal looks like:

Well, I digress. So, Gilbert. Gilbert has recently been feeding me increasingly bizarre routes into personal headspace. He calls them ‘channels’, with vid after vid of similar content, and when he runs out, he posts the same ones again, till I cave. I am stuck on a roundabout with enticing options only in:

People Watching Eurovision For The First Time Avenue

The Serial Killing, 520 Year Old Floating Spookfest That Are Greenland Sharks Quay

Cruise Ships Leaving Tardy Passengers Behind While the Resident Sociopaths Heckle Them Harbour

Landslides Hill

And This Is Where It Starts To Get Dark Airport…

The Japan Tsunami of 2011 Vista

The Decline of America Close

Lovely Holiday Vids… To Recently Invaded by/ Enemies of the West Cul-de-sac

North Korea Amirite Boulevard

China Apologists (Don’t Mention Xinjiang or Tibet or Taiwan or Hong Kong or The Spratly’s) Freeway

What Happens When You Stand Out Vista

The last one so close to the bone to my own experiences from past to present to future, I see every month, will mar my day. I keep revisiting the damned issue on this blog; it keeps cropping up.

-That was just a woman on holiday (and they cut some of the instances out). I literally cannot watch it twice without wanting to punch a wall or face. I sat down with A the other week after another round of public abuse (the train guard right next to them, doing nothing), to have a chat about a long term plan in leaving ‘The West’. Can’t live with it any more, can’t live with myself living with it, despite all the love I have for the place and those here – and that I am a Briton and a Westerner through and through. I reached my limit many years back with the hypocrisy that indentures my life, my past, my pay, my prospects. My choice to show my face on a street or past a school or on public transport or in a pub, or even hang out digitally on a public app, that’s out of my control. The fact when I anglicise my name (as in give an entirely false one) in duplicate I’ll get a reply to only that one. I’ve tried so very hard to make myself presentable, in every aspect and box to tick over the years.

The worst is when people I confide in don’t really think it happens at this scale, to this frequency. That I may have misconstrued Ching Chong shouted across a crowd, from its term of endearment, or all that pattern of behaviour is a misreading each time; I’m playing the victim/ race card/ paranoia. And ah, it’s just a joke. They’re not really racist. But live in my shoes and after a few years, see if you’re as forgiving, when the joke is always on you, with a helping of public humiliation. See if it looks the same if a Black guy walks into a carriage and people start making tribal noises. They don’t (so much) as they’d be called out on it, rightfully so.

But breathe, reel it back. No more bitter pie -this entire last few paragraphs might as well have been penned by Gilbert himself.

Any further down these routes and I’ll go kamikaze at the local mall, or at least start booking Disney cruises -it’s fucking Xmas fer Chrissakes. Okay enough, time to lie down, and start a withdrawal plan to go and fucking buy presents or a life or something.

Will stare very, very hard at this image until I put the flamethrower down, and let’s just brush it under the giant gaudy rug.

Here ends today’s missive. Thanking you for listening to my shit x.

Everyone, everything, bunch of cunts, going to hell.