#It was so stressful and frightening an experience that the severed limb IMMEDIATELY went on the attack instead of flopping around

[oculusxcaro]

If Khare loses a limb or any body part, it will start thrashing and moving about on it's own, continuing to function for at least an hour after being detatched from the main body.

[rescue-satellite]

In Your Court

Chapter 8 of my Sidekick!Adrien AU is now on AO3!

based on the AU by @geek-fashionista

Marinette woke up with a headache that could take down three fully grown men if split equally between them. She immediately regretted every life choice that led her to that moment, including leaving the curtains open. The sun washed over her as her eyes cracked open unwillingly. For a cloudy morning, it was ungodly bright.

She turned over herself, feeling the warm blankets fall across her skin, and noticed briefly the emptiness in bed beside her. With a groan, she threw herself out of bed to get the coffee that awaited her. If only it made itself.

In the kitchen, she was almost shocked to see Nino, standing in jeans, sipping from a mug of coffee. She cinched her eyebrows as she walked up to him - not hiding the fact that she was still naked - and took the cup of warm coffee from his hand without a word. Cream and sugar was set up on the counter. She had no idea how long it took him to find sugar in the mess of her kitchen, but he had. “Good morning,” she mumbled through foul breath.

When she caught a whiff of herself she grimaced. “I’m going to take a shower.” She dragged her feet along the cold floor, not even trying to look appealing. “You can join me if you want, but I have to brush my teeth first.”

He shrugged and went with her.

After he left - which wasn’t for a while if we’re being honest here - she called Alya, who hadn’t had as much luck as she had. She was just as hungover, but it didn’t stop her from screeching.

“You fucked Nino?”

Marinette held the phone away from her ear for a moment to let the wave of shock pass before answering. “Yeah.”

“Adrien’s best and only friend?”

“I wouldn't say only-”

“Twice?”

“It was more like five…”

“Five?!”

“...or six?”

“Six times?!”

“It’s just sex, Alya. It’s not like anything’s gonna come of it. I mean, we both have-” She was about to say that they both had crushes on other people, but she knew that information would be pried out of her cold dead hands if she offered up any hint. She wouldn't be the person to tell Alya that Nino had a crush on her. No matter the friend code, Alya was close to a relationship, and Marinette could not damage that.

Nino would just have to wait.

“Well.” They sat for a moment on the phone, Marinette pouring herself another cup of coffee - her fourth - while Alya typed away endlessly on her keyboard. “Was is good?”

Marinette hung up and tossed her phone onto the couch, not caring that it bounced to the floor as she overshot it. That phone would never die.

Much to her chagrin, the phone started vibrating with alerts. She moaned and walked around the couch, flumping down onto it and retrieving her phone from under the table. Adrenaline spiked as the news alert for ‘akuma’ came across her screen, but it was a false alarm.

Some local journalist had written a piece about the hacking that had occurred in the video cameras around town when there was an akuma attack. Marinette didn’t have anything better to do, so she did what she rarely ever did, and started to read an article about herself. The hacking had been nearly untraceable, only found out because a secure server had a trip that hadn’t been disabled.

The report went on to say that more hacking had been reported around the city when the akuma attacks occurred. Cameras followed Ladybug as she swung to and fro, but more interestingly, lighting systems from the city and in private buildings had been switched in the midst of an attack. Marinette thought back to her latest attacker, the Jockey. While horses rampaged through the street, the traffic lights had switched to red, preventing anyone from entering the path of the stampede. She thought it had been her doing.

“Tikki!” Marinette called. The fairy flew from her spot in the closet and settled near the crook of her neck, where she was still warm from the shower.

“What is it, Marinette?” Tikki said.

“When we were fighting the Jockey, did we do anything with the traffic lights?”

The little red kwami shook her head. “No. We don’t possess that kind of magic. Heightened strength and speed, sure, but we can’t manipulate electricity like Lady Wifi.” They looked at the phone for a moment, contemplating. “Why?”

Marinette thought back further. “So when we were fighting Siren, we didn’t set off the lights either?”

“No. We couldn't have.”

Thoughts and memories circulated in her head. “And the barriers in the windows hadn’t been tripped until we were in the building, even though Siren had used most of her abilities outside the building. And the akuma before Jockey, the Riddler, she got shocked by the electrical fence, even though it had been disabled. Tikki.”

“Yes, Marinette?”

“I think people are hacking us.”

The implication was lost. “What do you mean? They watched through the cameras, right?”

“Right. But I’m talking about someone hacking to fight.” She stared at her phone while a sinking feeling balled in the pit of her stomach. “Someone is actively helping us by hacking into the electrical systems.”

“What’s wrong?” Tikki laid a hand on Marinette’s cheek, where a generous flush was forming.

“I don’t know.” She did.

She didn’t like the idea that someone thought she was weak, or that she needed any sort of help. She had been Ladybug for a long time, and had picked up a lot of skills, and she didn’t need assistance doing her job. It was stressful, sure, and she had a hard go of it sometimes, but it was her work. No one else’s. She couldn't let others be hurt. But she didn’t tell Tikki. She just shook her head.

“I don’t know.”

A deeper headache was forming in between her eyes, and she pinched the bridge of her nose to try to ward it off. Her head was pounding though all the lights in the room were turned off. She thought she could smell the bacon being cooked downstairs and the smell made her nauseous. She wanted to curl into a ball and hide from the world until the bad feelings went away.

But the word didn’t like to be hidden from.

Her phone beeped again, the word akuma scrawled across several news lines. Marinette thought little of it until more popped up. “Akuma attack...” “New Akuma Villain Spotted...” “Ladybug Needed…”

“Aw, fuck!” Marinette moaned and told Tikki to transform her.

Even in the suit, her body ached. The joints of her shoulders cried out as she swung through buildings and around chimneys, her legs yelled at her as they pounded across rooftops and pavements like, her head was stabbing itself with tiny needles to try and end the misery. But still, she kept running.

All the alerts told her to head toward the Parc de Princes, and she hurried in that direction. She flew across the Seine in one swing and her body protested the movement. Tikki must be tired, too. Even if it had been three days since the last attack, more than enough time for them to recuperate, Tikki took as much energy from Marinette as Marinette did her, and both their energy was low, their bodies sore and lethargic.

It took more time than it should have for Ladybug to make it to the grand stadium, where some performance had been interrupted by an akumatized victim. Light flashed across tendrils of spiky arms that flicked through the air, cutting, stabbing, and slicing everything they touched. The screams of those in the stadium crescendoed as they made it to the doors and found they were locked.

Ladybug didn’t take the time to survey the scene, however much she wanted to. Her mind was slower than it should be, and she knew it would take far too much time, and people were already being injured below her.

As a shimmering spiked limb shot out toward the crowd of people cowering at the doors of the stadium, Ladybug dropped in front of the projectile, spinning her yoyo fast enough that it formed a shield in front of the innocent passersby. The arm at had reached her shattered and spit back, the entire length falling into pieces, lifeless on the floor. They glittered in the dim light of the day.

Ladybug waded through the frightened crowd of people and with one deft kick, broke open the doors. It only took seconds for the crowd to disappear out the door, all trying to fight each other to be the first to leave.

With the majority of the innocents to safety, and all who were left inching toward the now opened door, Marinette took the time to survey the scene. She didn’t see the akuma, and assumed that it would be regrouping after she had shattered its arm.

The shards of material lying on the floor were thick like a carpet as she approached. Crouching down, she examined one sharp piece, holding it up to the light.

Unnaturally clear glass, sharp on all edges, seemed to disappear at every other angle. Even as she felt it in her fingers, it seemed as if she was holding something invisible, until a hint of light caught it at the right angle and the entire thing became visible to her again. She could feel the razor edges biting into her skin.

Movement below her caught her eyes. She looked down and saw the other shards shaking slightly, as if trying to assemble themselves together again. The piece in her hand pulled itself away from her like it was attached to a string and jumped away. Her eyes followed the trajectory, where the akuma stood, seemingly made of the glass-like material that had been made of her arm.

The akuma stood in the very center of the stadium-turned-arena and Marinette's mind flashed back to her first battle against Stone Heart in this very location. She had barely been able to escape his grasp the first time, and when the butterfly carrying the evil magic multiplied and spread, she thought the day would be lost. It was the first time that Marinette had acted purely on instinct, in that first battle, and it hadn’t done her any good.

Now, with years of experience under her belt, she was ready, more than ready, to fight this akuma.

The shards of glass covered her in intricate patterns, obscuring the skin that was translucent like the rest of her costume. Marinette tried to focus on all of her at the same time, but as soon as her eyes moved to another part of her body, the previous section was lost to her eyes. It was as if the akuma was disappearing and reappearing just as quickly, transforming before her eyes.

A wicked smile appeared on the akuma’s face, right before her entire body vanished.

Ladybug bent her knees in a ready position, flashes of movement hitting her from the corners of her eyes. She scanned the entire area, trying to find something that would indicate the akuma’s location. She saw nothing. Even the tendrils of glass shards were obscured to her.

A dull, quick impact in her back sent her forward, somersaulting and crouching down, her yoyo streaking out behind her and catching nothing. The air behind her was vacated before she had the chance to make an attack, and there seemed to be nothing else in the vicinity.

A tug at her ponytail sent her reeling around, swinging her yoyo laterally through the air to catch whatever she could. Mocking laughter followed her.

Marinette’s face contorted into a scowl as she resigned herself to listening instead of looking. The faint clink of glass on glass surrounded her, rendering that line of detection useless. Almost imperceptible movement was all around her.

Finally, when Ladybug assumed the mirage took too much energy to maintain, the akuma’s tentacle appeared and bore down on her, crashing directly where she had been a split second before. Her yoyo whizzed through the arm, breaking it in half, but the pieces sewed themselves together as soon as they broke apart. Again, the tendril of glassy anger followed in her path, and Marinette kept her yoyo whistling in circles to prevent any of the tiny darts of glass to come anywhere near her.

They seemed to work simultaneously and independently. Like a well-commanded army. Each piece had their objective, and they worked together when necessary, and took their own charges when the opportunity struck. Ladybug found herself fighting against individual bits with her hands while her yoyo took the majority of the tentacle. Tiny, paper-cut like wounds marred her hands, and eventually her fingers were dripping with blood.

Futilely, she shot her yoyo out with one major swipe, coming down across the line of glass. The tendril burst into fragments, falling to the floor like they did before, bearing their master to her.

Ladybug named this one Mirage, her face shocked and contorted into a dozen different expressions at once. The set of her mouth finally formed into a scowl, and she flashed out of sight again.

Useless while she watched, Marinette set herself to swiping through the air with her yoyo randomly, hoping to catch the akuma. Ladybugs were a symbol of good luck, right? She needed some at that moment.

Something bore into her back, and she felt a long slice of something cutting into her. She tried to bite back a scream unsuccessfully as she rolled away, dodging whatever came next and blindly sending her yoyo out behind her. A gross sense of satisfaction came with the grunt that followed the contact of the yoyo.

Mirage stood, clutching her arm. At least, Marinette assumed that she was. It was hard to tell either way.

After she disappeared, Ladybug took the moment of opportunity to call for her Lucky Charm. A red and black-spotted torch fell into her hands in one moment, and in the next, she was being pummeled in the back with sharp fists.

A quick flip of the switch turned the light on, and she pointed it as she twisted at face the akuma. The brightness caused Mirage to cover her eyes, and for the first time, Marinette could see every movement clearly. The light refracted throughout the akuma’s body, and she stood out from the grassy stadium, clear as day.

Ladybug smirked at the sudden look of panic that came across Mirage’s face, and took that moment to fire her yoyo toward the akuma. She was met with more glass shards firing at her, and it took everything she had to prevent herself from being sliced to ribbons.

When the tendril was dispatched, the torch’s light searched for the akuma. She whipped around in search, making sure to keep moving and prevent another attack from behind. Blood could be felt dripping from her hand, and sliding down her back. It couldn't be said how many wounds she had now, but she couldn’t think of that now. The pounding in her head, ache in her body, and sharp pain of the cuts all over came second to making sure this akuma would never be able to hurt anyone else.

The flash of light was reciprocated as it bounced off of Mirage, and Ladybug bore down, her yoyo hitting her as swiftly as possible to break down her defenses. A chorus of grunts came from her as she was hit again and again, beating her until she had to crouch to the floor and protect her middle. As she went to wrap the thin yet indestructible chord around the akuma and render her immobile, another tentacle of glass blindsided her with a gesture from Mirage. A nearly imperceptible flick of the wrist sent glass shards toward Mari, blocking the yoyo from trapping her in its grip.

Ladybug flew across the stadium, coming to a rolling halt and hitting the ground and the wall hard. She grunted and looked up.

The red torch was half way across the stadium, glinting in the cloudy light of the day, but nothing else seemed to be in the cavernous space. She struggled to stand up, her yoyo retracting into itself slowly. Her eyes scanned and she waited for another attack. For now, she could only play defense until she got the light back.

The face of Mirage appeared in front of her as the stadium lights poured down suddenly. Both clenched their eyes shut to shield from the blinding lights, a thousand times more potent than the handheld torch Ladybug was wielding. The entire space was flooded with light, and her head pounded with hangover and new opportunity.

Finally, she could see the small glass figurine that hung at the neck of the akuma, glittering with its own faint purple light. Marinette went out to grasp it as Mirage flicked her wrist again, sending the glass shards into her. Their pierced into her arm and she cried out with the unbearable pain it caused. The force that knocked her over also brought the akuma-infected necklace to the breaking point, and the chain shattered like glass.

Mirage, her form flickering in the stadium lights, stood tall and intimidating over Ladybug, who looked as crippled as she felt. A wave of hopelessness washed over her as fear settled in her stomach. The feeling was painfully familiar, and unwelcome memories flashed into her mind.

Tears not brought by the shards of glass sticking from her body coursed down her face as she brought the necklace in her hand into the ground. The glass broke in two and a purple butterfly wiggled out.

Ladybug struggled to manually open the yoyo at her side to begin the healing process as Mirage took one last opportunity for attack.

She didn’t know how, because darkness overtook her in those final moments, but the akuma was cleansed.

When she came to, it was with the woman who had been akumatized hovering over her.

“Ladybug? Are you okay?”

Her breath left her body as she realized she hadn’t detransformed. She looked down at her costume, which was still encasing her with red warmth, and felt tremendous relief.

The woman kneeling over her was older than she expected. Lines creased her face and she grasped the glass figurine that had been her sickness tightly in her hand. Her hair was frazzled and unkempt, as were her clothes, but the clearness of her eyes reminded Marinette of the glass she used as her weapon.

Ladybug struggled to sit up. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.” It hurt even worse to stand, but she did and lent a hand to the woman who had just been cleansed. “Are you alright? You had it worse than me.”

The woman nodded. “Yeah. I think so. I was an akuma?” A tear leaked from her eye.

“You were. But you’re better now. Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Ladybug instructed her with a sure voice to leave the stadium and find help. She couldn’t let her see the pain she struggled against, even while the blood leaked down her side. She watched as the woman made her way from the stadium, shaking and scared, wishing she could have helped, but she would have fared no better. And it wouldn't have benefitted either of them to see the Hero of Paris in such a vulnerable position.

Slowly, she made her way to the middle of the field, where the red spotted Lucky Charm awaited her. There was no enthusiasm in her chant, but she could feel the slight ebbing of pain as healing powers washed over her. They wouldn’t do much, but enough. The rushing feeling of the magic overpowered her and she had to keep herself from collapsing.

Eyes seemed to be watching her as she stood there, but she knew the stadium would be empty by then. There was relatively no structural damage, and anyone who had been hurt would be outside where the paramedics awaited them.

Still, the feeling wouldn't cease.

Marinette shifted her shoulders back and looked around. Cameras pointed to her, watching, and she realized she was being watched. Of course. As she saw more of them, she could see every one was pointing to her, the small light flashing to say they were on. Boldness crept into her belly, and she had to know.

“Can you…” she cleared her throat and tried again, calling louder. “Can you hear me?”

For a moment, it felt ridiculous. She was calling into an empty stadium. Of course no one would be able to hear her. Her shoulders slumped and she began to walk away when the light of the jumbojet screen came to life.

Her eyes latched onto the screen, blank for a moment, then with the pixelated animation of a black cat, with bright green eyes staring down at her. A flush of heat began in her gut. The cat seemed to laugh down at her, bearing bright white teeth, and then it was gone.

The lights of the stadiums crashed off, leaving her stumbling blindly, with more questions than she had answers. As per usual.

[changterhune]

Time to Cut And Run

I think I’m done with social media. 

Okay, not all of it. But most of it.

“Why?” is what you’re asking. “You’re so active on it! Look at you with all the Facebooking, the Twittering, the Instagramming, the Tumbling and such!”

You’re right. And it’s slowly killing me. No joke.

WHEN YOU’RE THE PROBLEM YOU GOT A BIG PROBLEM

When my first reaction to dropping all social media was fear and concern that I couldn’t do it then I should’ve known I had a problem. As I’ve had more and more time to hear their experience and how they felt after cutting this particular cord I knew it was something I had to do.

Of course in grand Terhune style, I made a big frigging pronouncement that on August 1st, 2019 I would be deactivating or mothballing my Facebook and Twitter accounts for one month. I said I’d keep my Instagram and Tumblr active, though I might’ve ditched Tumblr, too, at the end of the month.

But it didn’t work out quite like that.

“Why?” you may ask? (As if anyone’s still reading).

Well, I’ll tell you.

PEER PRESSURE

Two friends of mine cut the cords from social media this summer.

They immediately reported feeling great but not after some initial shock and withdrawal (which apparently was significant). My aforementioned terrified reaction to this turned into admiration then concern and jealousy. They could easily disengage, it seemed, while I found the idea as frightening as severing a limb.

When I began to envy those who can seemingly manage if not thrive from their social media presence is when I realized I was really in it deep.

A HISTORY LESSON Fourteen years ago our family moved to Maine, uprooting from an established network of friends and family. My wife and I threw ourselves into a new business (a yoga studio) and our daughter was in school. We developed friendships and built a loving, vibrant community around our yoga studio. Our sense of professionalism meant maintaining boundaries though we maintained some social contact in meatspace (what the rest of the world calls in real life or IRL in technospeak). It was enough and made up for what we lost when we moved to a new state.

During this time, from 2005 to 2014, social media grew from a few blogs and LiveJournal into Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat and others. Many of my social media accounts were created in 2008 after I attended the Viable Paradise workshop. There I connected with fellow writers and future friends from all over the world.

In the beginning, these platforms allowed me to keep in touch while friending new people and reconnecting with friends from my hometown, college and other areas of my life. It was fun to grow my friends lists in all those apps. There I got to know the new friends and reconnect with the old ones. At one time I could even distinguish between someone I knew from real life, the internet, high school, my yoga life, my music life and my writing life.

Then as they often do, things got… weird.

Actually I became severely depressed and then I got weird.

Okay, fine. I got weird-er. Ya happy now?

“MY COMPLICATIONS HAD COMPLICATIONS.”

2013-2014 is when social media became problematic for me. Though in some ways it was a lifeline, where I kept in touch with people when I felt isolated. But more often I grew to feel as if I wasn’t validated unless I posted something on social media. 

Or I wondered if I was valued or even alive if I posted something and got a “like.”

It became the place where I lived the most and this wasn’t good for me.

In that time social media grew into something like the facehugger from the movie “Alien.” If you don’t know what that is (what the hell is wrong with you?!) then here’s a litte background for you:

The facehugger is a parasitoid; its only purpose being to make contact with the host's mouth for the implantation process. The Facehugger secures its eight finger-like appendages tightly around the head of its victim and wraps its tail tightly around the host's neck, eliciting a gasping response and allowing the insertion of an ovipositor into the host's esophagus. An embryonic form of the Xenomorph is then implanted directly into the stomach of the host. During the implantation process the host is fed a constant supply of oxygen via two lung like organs. 

Here’s a fun video (WARNING IT CONTAINS SCARY SHIT):

Get the picture?

Social media - mostly Facebook and Twitter to be honest - became a thing attached to me, breathing for me while implanting something foreign into me. But instead of originating as something invasive I basically invited it in, made it some tea, shaved while it drank the tea then allowed it to hop on my face and ride me like a fucking tired, old pony at the carnival.

OUTRAGE FATIGUE

 As my friend good friend and bold German brother Marko Kloos wrote, it’s all too easy to open up one of these sites and get enthralled in the rage of the day. I don’t know who manages their social media engagement and doesn’t feel this or how they do it. But I realized that I was experiencing something dubbed extreme outrage fatigue. And it made the depths of my depression in the last five years considerably worse than it had to be. Because it’s one thing to be engaged and aware of what’s going on and yet another thing entirely to go from zero to furious in a second. 

I had enough stress and cortisol cocktails back when we owned our business. Real life then dealt me an even greater dollop of it in the last five. I’m better now with the help of therapy, medication, and a new CPAP machine. And as I get better, I realized giving my body a heaping dose of cortisol every time I open Facebook and see something that jolts my nerves and off I go into a tailspin.

And I’m so, so very done feeling this way. I’m fairly sure it’s killing me slowly.

DER PLAN? DIRT PLANT!

Unlike the facehugger from Alien, pulling the plug on social media hasn’t strangled me or causes acidic blood to scar me or eat a hole in three or four decks of a spaceship.

But the withdrawal was a little intense that first day. I’m not gonna lie. 

Because I’m a little addicted to social media.

Which, if you’re unfamiliar with recovery schpiel, means I’m very addicted.

Social media - with its likes, hearts, emojis, RT’s and everything else - is perfect for our little lizard brains. They only want to feel fed, fucked, free and fat - which really means feeling loved, wanted and secure. When we get a little like or emoji on a post it releases endorphins into our brains and we crave more. So much so that I often wish I’d never gotten involved with it and kept my daughter off social media for as long as possible.

It’s not social media’s fault per se, it’s just that I am wired in such a way that it makes addicts of us (my wife can take it or leave it which is both annoying and enviable). 

Now don’t get me wrong: there’s a ton of things I love about social media. I love that it’s connected me with people all over the world, made new friends and reconnected me to old ones. I love that it’s truly helped people in various causes across the globe from the Arab Spring uprising, the RESIST marches in the US and the Hong Kong protests. It can be a tool for positive change in the world but it’s not being used as such because those who run Facebook and Twitter see more profit in running it another way.

Don’t believe me? Then go to Netflix and watch The Big Hack documentary. Then tell me how you don’t care about what Facebook does with your information. Because I guaranteed they know how you think and decide about your purchases and beliefs almost as well as or better than you.

SOCIETY’S A DRAG SO WHY NOT JUST DROP OUT?

“Well, why are you staying on Instagram and Tumblr?” you may ask. “They’re just as bad!”

Okay. I’ll tell you why. It’s simple.

Because they bring me joy.

My Tumblr dash is mostly science fiction themed posts and a few political ones. I go there for concept art, the work of favorite artists, funny gifs and even music (I certainly don’t go there for adult content since they killed that community off the day before my 50th birthday. Great gift, jackasses!). It’s a nice place to unwind as I usually check it out at the end of the day before I go to bed.

My Instagram feed is full of pictures and videos of synthesizers, cute animals, cartoons, comics, fail videos, concept art and almost no politics. I feel better when I go on it, especially when I see pictures of dogs and cats. And Sparky has a pretty dedicated following which I must curate for his majesty. 

Now if I’m being honest with myself I’m still checking the likes for video clips I post of my songs or artwork. That little approval drug, that little pip of endorphins is something I have to deal with. 

And if I’m being even more honest with myself I can safely say social media has done very little to help me sell my books, music or comics. Most of that I’ve done by hand through word of mouth.

DELETE AND REPEAT UNTIL YOU FEEL THE BEAT

 “Okay, so big deal,” you say. “You’re not dropping out but you’re cutting back. What’s it gonna look like from here on out?” you may ask (as if anyone is still reading this).

For starters my online presence has shrunk noticeably. Initially I planned to deactivate my Facebook account early in August and do the same with Twitter. I started this by deleting the apps from my phone on a Monday.

Then something extraordinary happened.

First the anxiety whacked me over the back of the head and took me for a ride in the back of a smelly old beater. Like for most of the day I was grabbing my phone, going to the apps and experiencing a jolt at not seeing them there. It was like I kept reaching for a door that had been there or a window only to find it replaced with a giant brick wall or gaping empty space. This went along for a good 5-6 hours.

Then the anxiety went away.

The next day was infinitely easier. Without reaching for my phone the way Charles Bukowski reached for a cigarette or glass of whisky first thing in the morning, my day started off much more relaxed. Combined with the benefits of sleeping with a CPAP machine and POW! I was up earlier and easier in the morning as I went off to walk the dog then head into work. In the weeks since I curtailed my social media usage I feel so much better. More relaxed, less anxious and not nearly as out of touch as I thought I might. I check the news feed for a few minutes and listen to the radio but that’s it. Not nearly as much outrage first thing in the morning.

Despite not deleting my Facebook or Twitter accounts completely I haven’t felt much temptation to reinstall them. In fact most days, instead of checking in on both at least a dozen times an hour, I usually check in on Facebook at work late in the morning then once at night at home in my office. 

It shocks me how, after so little time away from it there’s so little there that I wonder how it became such a huge part of my life. The annoyance hits me like a day old haddock in the face the moment I open Facebook and after seeing if I need to reply to anything immediately I just close it and move on.

I have not, obviously, deactivated or deleted either of the monsters for a couple reasons. It’s nice to check in on people individually because the feed is bullshit due to algorithms that show you want Facebook or Twitter wants you to see (I’ve largely abandoned my artist pages because the effort involved in getting them to produce any results is herculean and yields nothing). My Instagram posts to Facebook and other social media so I didn’t need to check it as often. In fact I can’t usually stay on it for more than 5 minutes before getting bored.

YOU NEED US. DON’T YOU? PRETTY PLEASE? “So how are we going to stay in touch?” you may ask. “What about the people who need to get in touch with you?” (as if anyone is still reading this in the present day).

Honestly? If you want me you know where to find me. If you have my digits then call or text a brother. You can always email me, too.

I use Facebook Messenger regularly, despite knowing every word and image I put there is used to sell beer and cheap shit. My intention is to focus more on my personal site and blog at www.charlesrterhune.com and www.changterhune.com. There I’ll be posting regularly in an effort to hone and maintain my internet presence as much as I can (for we are all still at the mercy of the behemoth that is Google). It’s also a case of having the time to post as I’m working on several project at a time. My website will post to social media as long as those sites are active.

Honestly, if I feel this good weeks after cutting the cord I’m sure it will feel a-frigging-mazing in a couple months or even a year’s time!

So I’ll see you around these parts I hope.

Or maybe even IRL here in meatspace!

- CHARLIE/CHANG/CHIZZLE/CRT