Dear Mark Zuckerberg,

My name is Exuberant J. Bodhisattva. I live in Halifax, Nova Scotia where I moved from Montréal to be with a man I met on a boat. I like to call him The Boatman. I devote my time to writing, practicing Ashtanga yoga, walking The Boatman’s big black dog and thinking up ecstatic and exuberant ideas for the CEO’s of excellent companies. Here’s what I came up with for Facebook:

1.) Pretty much, you need a product line called Property of Facebook. Technically, it is sort of your property and hence, you should take advantage. These products should be inspired by my poetic lines entitled Property of Facebook, which I’ve created entirely out of facebook statuses.

For example:

She can only find eight ways of looking at a goldfish. Now she is learning about low-frequency words. Today, we get out of jail free. If you look, you might find the joy of sex in your school bag. Enjoy everything in moderation, except for yoga and protected sex. Ensure that you release your groins and do laundry before Ricky Bennet and Jesus Christ have birthdays. Hurry up, or else you’ll miss out on the immaculate conception. Tis the season for kidneys and bladders. Urine, not tinsel. Falala.

Click here to see the rest.

Please disregard the part about scandals and imminent lawsuits. I wholeheartedly entrust these poetic lines to you. They are yours. Go ahead and put them on fridge magnets. Most importantly, you should put excerpts of these poetic lines onto reusable and biodegradable bags, which customers will carry your products in after they leave your store. This means that you should have a store – The Facebook Store. You can call it: Property of Facebook.

2.) The most important product you need to make is clothing. Everyone needs to be wearing T. Shirts and hats and pants and accessories that say, Property of Facebook. Or they could have other innovative and excellent statuses on them. Other important products are fridge magnets and bumper stickers.

3.) Since you are called Facebook, it is about time you started to make books. The books don’t need to be about faces, but some of them can be. I think that you should get someone on your innovative and excellent team (perhaps yourself) to generate a computer program that can make novel plots based on people’s facebook profiles.

This can be an endless source of income for the company, as well as an endless source of entertainment for your clients. Everyone wants to read about themselves. In addition, you should publish organic, non-computer-generated works of literary genius.

Publishers these days are kind of dragging ass. They have no money and they’re backlogged with manuscripts. Editing has gone to shit. So step up the game. You’re in charge of the best marketing tool in the world. Use it to bring new writers to life. Make books, stimulate the economy.

If you’re looking for your very first non-computer-generated work of literary genius, I humbly suggest an epistolary novel that I wrote with a guy named Simon. We just finished it. We think that the whole world will love it, but the whole world won’t get to see it if it never makes it into print. Below is the synopsis. If you love it, we’ll send you the whole thing, which probably won’t fit in a facebook message, so maybe you can give me your exclusive email address and I will cherish it exclusively and close to my heart. If you don’t love the synopsis, well, perhaps the fridge magnets will work out. Let me know if you need any help. Thank you, Mark Zuckerberg.

Sincerely, The Exuberant Bodhisattva.

~

Synopsis: The Little Savage and the Hermit

The Little Savage and the Hermit meet on a disintegrating biodegradable yoga mat. Annica, an imaginative, eating disordered yogi plays the Little Savage, while Salomon, a reclusive author, is the Hermit.

This is a modern love story, wrapped up in a bigger tale of solidarity. One writer can love another writer, and that’s pleasant, but the greatest thing a published writer can do for an unpublished one, is to write a book with her. Thus the saga unfolds, punctuated with poetry, drama, dreams, sex, humour, alcohol and other trendy dysfunctions.

The book revitalizes the ancient form of the epistolary novel. Salomon opens by recounting the yoga mat scene with nostalgia and a very bad poem. Annica’s response, “What the Tornado Said,” undermines their intimate encounter, refusing to believe that this hermit could have made her wet like the morning.

Although the book was her idea, Annica quickly becomes resistant to continuing. She fears that the process fuels an impossible relationship and believes that she is too self-indulgent to create anything of value. Salomon, however, sees the clear potential in her writing and is too stubborn to let her give up since that would mean that he would lose his shot at a book he’s eager to see come to life.

A third of the way into the novel, a dramatic narrative turn transforms Annica into a cardboard box. From this point on, the completion of their novel becomes inevitable and their love for each other, undeniable.

Countless mornings, magic toe shoes and more bad poems ensue, but unfortunately, Salomon retains his hermit limitations. Long ago, he chose books over people. With her savage fires and cardboard box angst, Annica can`t do much to change his mind. Once the book is finished, the Little Savage wishes she could begin again, and longs for their “bright happy faces in the wet happy morning.” Classic shitty relationship, carried out by geniuses. At least now they have something to show for it. The hermit’s happy. The book is ready.

Countless mornings, magic toe shoes and more bad poems ensue, but unfortunately, Salomon retains his hermit limitations. Long ago, he chose books over people. With her savage fires and cardboard box angst, Annica can`t do much to change his mind. Once the book is finished, the Little Savage wishes she could begin again, and longs for their “bright happy faces in the wet happy morning.” Classic shitty relationship, carried out by geniuses. At least now they have something to show for it. The hermit’s happy. The book is ready.

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Eight years ago, Erica Schmidt moved from Perth, Ontario to Montréal, Quebec in search of Jesus, her bandhas and her tailbone. Parts of her quest worked out, while other parts didn`t. Erica is now looking for a publisher for The Little Savage and the Hermit, an epistolary novel that she co-wrote with a man she didn`t meet on a biodegradable yoga mat. So far Mark Zuckerberg hasn`t written her back so the book is still up for grabs if you are interested. Erica has recently relocated to Halifax, Nova Scotia, where she lives with the Boatman, a man she met on a boat. For more details and amusement, check out Erica`s blog at: exuberantbodhisattva.blogspot.com or follow her on Twitter. @mypelvicfloor.