White Knight

I've stopped using Linked In, not because I want to cause trouble, not on a career networking site, but because I do not understand its posting policies, and I am, evidently, not the only participant who feels like I'm in the middle of a digital police state: one teacher posts that Catherine, in Wuthering Heights, is *bitch,* and I get flagged for possible lack of relevance. No idea who spearheaded that, but many Linked In users delete, constantly rephrasing. Not exactly sure this is beneficial to our evolutionary social hierarchy. But everything now automated, while the site muzzles with one hand, it woos engagement and paranoia on the other.

Why would a real estate developer from Atlanta look at my profile? Accident? Gentrification? Owns a stake in public housing? I have no idea. If it was up to me I'd detonate this damn building and dance on the rubble, and yet we cannot stop ourselves, can we? ISIS may be an outgrowth of Saudi extremism migrating outward, unique to a deprecated Sunni culture none of understand, but reaction doesn't spring out of a vacuum. We're all overwhelmed, our healthcare systems, the Secret Service-- Wapo's reporting has displeased me, as all human systems are fallible, and no national executive ever entirely immune from risk. Reagan was shot by a man living his own film version of his obsession in his head-- our inability to solve economic stratification.

What did I desire that has been so sorely lacking? Privacy, a place to write and flourish, not stacked like a pancake with a bunch of gibbering idiots and a bitter transvestite doctor living on 1/4 of his fucking brain with a lupus like condition preventing his sex change, an androgyny worse than the disease. Everyone in this building is a living corpse, except for the occasional accident of youthful disruption and sexual irresponsibility. I have no pleasurable sexual memories. My last husband was 1997, and I handled him and the liaison with very little poise. I did not love him but shouldn't have kept sleeping with him, as when he knew he had made me vulnerable, only then I received the time immemorial phrase of my adult life, "I don't feel anything."

Coupe de gras.