I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown.

I'm Major Jackson and this is the slowdown.

Last month, my friend would dod gave me a t-shirt which simply reads zero likes. I have not worn it yet. As someone active on social media I fear being viewed as hypocritical.

Recently, at a writers conference,

a colleague proclaimed, if I did not need

to promote my books, I'd not even have an Instagram account.

Everyone around the table agreed. Another admitted,

she's just not that interested in people's pets. We laughed.

Someone else said she hired a graduate student to manage her social media presence.

To drum up readers last week she asked her followers about

their favorite dessert recipes. Another of my fellow diners swore her book contract was owed to her number of followers on X, which itself was the result of a post about her cat that went viral. She hasn't written anything close to his reach. She said,

it was like hitting the lottery. We all lamented out-of-date platforms and wondered if we should all start substacks.

We ended the evening with a pack to shut down our feeds tomorrow

and drop off the digital face of the earth.

But first, we took a group selfie full of smiles, then tagged everyone at the table.

Most writers are not all eyes on me,

but the psychology of the social media like and follower becomes validation it seems between books.

I am the first to admit my addiction to the hot take or provocative or witty post that generates a flurry of comments.

The rush of activity around one's thoughts is its own ephemeral high, but sometimes what generates a bunch of likes

can be confused for the real work of noticing our world and seeing into it.

Today's poem calls attention to our ubiquitous urge

to document the entirety of our lives with our devices.

...