HUMOUR
They Broke the Clapping Machine
Time for some real engagement (or not)
I am guilty of it. I clap and run. Sometimes I highlight and clap and then run — not stopping to comment: nice job, I appreciated your piece, your story made me smile. I am not saying that I never comment, I do, but only when a piece hits me just so.
Surely, I can expand my commenting to more that the pieces that are just so — a kind word of encouragement, even a message about the shift+enter for poetry, but sometimes it’s easier to sneak in and sneak out, incognito.
If I ever become a superhero, I want to be Incognito Woman — you notice me but do not even notice that you noticed me.
Would I need a cape? That might be too flashy, a walking cane might be a better sell, and a hat and mask and gloves, no matter the weather. Even in the middle of summer, I slither in, donned in hat, mask and gloves. And sunshades. Of course. I can look at you while you are looking through me and no one notices.
I am between minds, whether to join the ‘Medium, fix the glitch’ crowd or hope that they leave it like that, forcing me to become a better Medium citizen or maybe the new highlighting queen?
I. Trudie Palmer
One Love
