Jericho wrote:
You’re a beautiful soul. Its okay that you come here angry some days, sad others….what you write about specifically and how you write, isn’t our concern. We’re here reading, following, loving, and supporting you because we care about you—we enjoy who you are. And we can relate in your sorrow. You’re never alone—no matter how it feels.
Thinking about you–knowing it isn’t easy. Remember that you’re dearly loved and even if it feels like you are–you’re never alone…
… and for a second I believed her. For a second. Until I realised that the link to Jericho’s website wasn’t to another blog, but to a website claiming to ‘sell property quickly’.
Ah Jericho, you minx. Beguiling me with those cunningly programmed noughts and ones. You’re the grief-blog equivalent of a sex phone operator; you know just what to say but really you want to keep me coming back, filling your pocket in the process. “Oh baby” I cry; “you’re not alone” you whisper, before you’re caught by my spam filter, our chaperone.
I know you’re not real, but I can’t help reading and re-reading. You give great comment, what can I say? I even consider borrowing a phrase or two, for when I need to put out for other bloggers but the words wont come. I think you must be a composite of some kind; filched feelings from those who’ve been kind enough to read here over the past 18 months. I wonder if the real people found it as easy to write those words as you did to steal them; I know I’ve been guilty of trotting out the same old sayings from time to time. The whorls and loops I leave behind on my keyboard are the same regardless of my intent in typing those words.
Abide. Now there’s a word I never used before.
Sending love. Smooches through the ether.
One of these: <
plus
one of these: 3
plus enough Xs to mark a million ancient treasure maps.
Almost two years since, I find myself searching for the remnants of of my authentic grief. I’ve built cities on the ruins of my old world, and you, Jericho, would know all about that. Wikipedia says your namesake is ‘one of the oldest continuously-inhabited cities in the world’. Civilizations stacking up on top each other like chairs in a conference centre. Apparently the name Jericho derives from the Arabic word for fragrant. Fragrant like myrrh perhaps? Or is yours a seductive scent? You smell like someone who gives a fuck, but it’s just the heavy cologne of a seedy estate agent.
The weather has broken. We’ve had a week of sunshine, the freckles on my nose are testament to that. Now it’s raining and pouring, my old man is snoring on the sofa next to me as I google ‘Jericho’ one last time:
Jericho, Vermont is the birthplace and lifelong home of Wilson “Snowflake” Bentley (1865-1931), an American farmer who photographed over five thousand divinely beautiful snow crystals.
Snowflakes. What’s that truism? That they are all unique? It took John Mead Adams ten years to produce the world’s first perfect artificial snowflake. I wonder how long it took to craft the perfect artificial blog comment spambot?
* * *
Sorry I haven’t been commenting much. I just couldn’t find real words. I didn’t want to fake it. I’m no Jericho.
I was completely suckered. I read those comments and thought, “Oh. What thoughtful words.” Bummer.
I’m real – I promise and I’m thinking about you and Iris a lot as her birthday approaches. Not particularly beautiful words but a genuine sentiment all the same.
Suddenly I’m thankful that all of my spam comments are so obviously and honestly spam.
Real words desert us all at times. I’m very glad to read them here when you have them to share.
Was that really a spambot? Oh my God. I’m sure you’ve investigated but could it not be someone from an estate agents posting? I’m so naive about these things and I wish you still were too.
Those artificial snowflakes are beautiful. Almost like the real thing.
All I remember hazily about Jericho is that the walls were fortified and that song ‘ Joshua fought the battle of Jericho, and the walls came tumbling down.’ But I love the way you have linked that with the Jericho in Vemont.
I’m real too. And I’m thinking about you in the long run up to May 15th. But even when it comes round and leaves, we’ll still be thinking about you and Iris. I wish I did have the words.
et tu, Jericho?
It is interesting how moving and beautiful that comment was before I knew it was a spam, then it was just diabolical. xo
Hmmm, just wondering if this is the same thing that has happened to me? I left a comment over at melka’s a few months ago but it somehow got duplicated, had exclamation points added to it and linked my words back to a website for a ‘miracle stretch mark cure.’ Particularly inappropriate as melka was pregnant at the time and I’m certain that stretch marks weren’t top of her priority list. Icky ick. It made me feel all wrong.
I don’t know how on earth it happened to me but I hope that Jericho is a victim of the same conspiracy. I just want to believe that those lovely words are a sincere message from a flesh and blood human being and not the internal whirrings of a spambot. Unsquishable optimist that I am.
Thinking of you and all of your family, especially over these coming weeks. I know I often mutter on stupidly with no ‘real’ words as such but my heart is in there too, somewhere. x
Maybe Jericho is the beginning of the robot revolution. As much as I agree with Jericho’s sentiment…this gives me the willies. What if spambots have feelings?
Sorry that you have been snookered and taken advantage of in a way that somehow defies description. Words come somedays and not others; I read each post you write and I thank you for being able to share your feelings. Thru reading your stuff I find that I am better able to talk about my own mixed up emotions.
May each step we take lead the way to Peace
Lynda
California
Urghhh! I just don’t know what to say, that’s just too creepy.
My words are never right, but they come from my heart. x
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Sometimes I wonder if *I’m* real.
I’ve got a similar comment, from a flower shop.
The internet is just a freaky weird place.
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