Take notes. I have been trying to join Blue Sky for months. It won’t let me in. I give up. I cannot afford to leave the Internet. I don’t make a dime from books. Nada. I’m living in a car in this mountain cold. Fingers ice. Hurricane destroyed everything. No Internet. I am writing screenplays. Hundred pages. Piece of cake. I sell scripts to Hollywood. The ultimate good old boys club. This thing they call comments is actually social media. All I have left is this phone. The Internet allows me to market film scripts. One after the other. In the backseat of a car. Not my car. A place to sleep is kindness. I do not care – Blue Sky or Elon. I get no action on X. Nothing. I am at the max for FB. None of those people (not even one) speaks English. I sell books in South America. Goodreads is also social media much to publishers rolling their inept eyes. Authors post junk about the writers who are the competition.

It will be interesting to watch Blue Sky’s evolutionary monetization. It will morph. The writer of this piece forgets Tumblr. Platform took a beating with all the porn. Courtroom. A lot of people ask me about New York Times social media, Comments. Heavily censored. There is also lots of action on Pinterest. I like the young people there because they’re vibrant and they have ideas. Blue Sky versus X gig is just another walk in the park. They are all evil. I don’t get cranks. Just voyeurs. I don’t read feeds. Insta is another galaxy like Andromeda. Backlit like a cupcake.