No need to upvote this post. It's a palate cleanser.
Research has found that the brain has about a three-second tick to it, which constitutes our maximum cognizance of what we would call the present, after which it is then consigned to memory and the past.
source Marc Wittman, Felt Time: The Psychology of How We Perceive Time
So I don't guess.
A few nights ago I read 
Do you spam your followers with content and hope something sticks?
Or do you only post when you have something extremely important to say.
Sad thing is: you’ll lose followers no matter which strategy you pursue.
It reminded me of my favorite writer of all time, 
It’s all now. It’s a backstage pass. It’s the violinist sliding into home base. It’s the mistake of thinking there was such a thing as mistake. It’s the fearlessness of going without bones.
It doesn’t matter what we do. Like Kafka’s tree trunks in the snow, we could be set rolling with the smallest push and yet are “firmly wedded to the ground.” Yet “even that is only appearance.”
I wonder what writing is in relation to time: Ozymandius's toe? Or is it my love affair with the photocopy machine of thought? Xeroxes of my fish-like visitors?
Or, is thought a sea of stars I lie far beneath, drunk as a slug in this garden of whiskey?
So rapidly in my chest I hear "Steemit, Steemit, Steemit, Steemit..."
The sky isn't out there; it's on the roof of my mouth. I'm afraid I'll swallow the whole earth.
But worry is only negative curiosity.
My guess is my choice and I choose to focus all of my sanity and skill on being a little bit sillier.
Thank you for your patience
