MARIA GIANNOU
RIF – Death on Facebook
ed. Fixation, page 120

Like a bad version of fiction, Facebook has its own death. Something tragic in the utopia of immortality. Surprisingly, Facebook users are also dying. With dark humor, Maria Gianna explores the digital footprints of the dead and the misunderstandings that occur when a like or even a whole hello jumps out of a digital grave. The “ghost profile” continues to exist thanks to its administrators, who are buried in a digital mound. A dying idol-character causes after death the highest similarity, collective grief. Spectrum gets right and migrates into the digital future, resting in a chimera of obscurity. But once again, death memorials cast a shadow over a jubilant Facebook. “Like a mausoleum on a summer beach.”

“As an animal species, we’re crazy about immortality, that’s a common thing.” Yaiannou returns to the vanity that drives Facebook users, their selfishness, their illusion of wisdom, their drive to accumulate recipients. If every literary expression stems from hidden or domesticated narcissism, Facebook posts are the pinnacle of non-writing philanthropy. To make the trivial and unimportant public, the discourse of communications is reduced to the worst possible literalness, abbreviations, abbreviations and emoticons. I’m talking about the majority, not the literate exceptions. “Facebook teaches us how to write, so what? Words that cause applause. Consciously or unconsciously, everyone who joins Facebook strives to create a unique (oxymoron?) image. The means of creation is speech. However, how an extremely overused word ends up in a famous person is one of the inexplicable phenomena of Facebook to me. Jannow admits that the bitter struggle to participate in the “social game of power and popularity” changes the way you think and write. In his words, Facebook’s involvement “in the way we write, read, express ourselves and think is undeniably intense and sometimes devastating.” The page depth is aligned with the screen surface. Everyone is in a hurry here and now. Say something, anything, deify yourself. Nevertheless, Giannow argues that the desire to turn the private (the document of one’s existence) into the public cultivates thought, opening up the “field of consciousness.” “The publicity and participation in the society of idols makes us learn to think.” I can not understand. How does superficial, unstructured speech with errors lead to deeper reflection? “Ghost profiles haunt aging cyberspace.” In his quasi-essay, Yayannow laments not emigrating users, but the environment itself, which has fallen into a state of obsolescence and extinction, which is one and the same. Moreover, she seems to be saddened by the mortality of paginated literature. Jannu writes about Facebook in a book, composing, one might say, a funeral for both. I am confused by the ambivalence of placement. Facebook is good and holy, but literature (already a relic) is priceless. However, let’s say goodbye to them, because we are moving towards the “super-digital” era “after”. I’d rather Facebook’s angry defense than a rambling, internally mournful comparison of it to literature. From the very beginning, the spelling of Yayannou is shown in playful imitation. Adopting Facebook’s graceful mannerisms (with carefully crafted and carefully crafted writing, of course), he makes interesting claims that are belied, however, by the writing’s casual palinades.