Overly Involved

I am just an aging disabled woman on her way out, but what I do differently than the angry trolls on New Mobility chat boards, which New Mobility may have ceased to maintain, given Facebook's monopoly, is that I sublimate it into a justified critique of progressive overreach, while the left shifts uncomfortably with the implications, like the cremation of the Russian traitor in the new fast paced Allegiance on CBS. Very few people can handle that degree of ruthlessness. My medical model life has been an incremental equivalency of that ruthlessness, just as the ISIS burning death of a member of the Jordanian air force moves beyond the nature of any argument. The pedestrian nicety holds that Muslims don't kill other Muslims. Zarqawi's legacy closed the door on that polite fiction, but by the same token, graphic excess is not a triumph in fear.

Joshua was initially responsive toward my appreciation of Chaim Potok, and there it ended, and I just blocked a young woman named Natalia Lomala without knowing anything except that she doesn't tweet. Why should I care if my non-compliance is on the verge of more ruthless control? I'm on the verge of being finished, evacuating myself. I'll be placed somewhere, and social media won't do a damn thing for me.

Perhaps it isn't dying, yet. A simple bronchial flare which has subsided, but when did I ever have a moment of fulfillment outside of case management processes? During my inept sexual congress with Scott Bryan, recovering coke addict? My slightly less inept fling with Pat Dillon, the Irish version of my father, over-dramatizing my emotional vulnerability during our break-up? I drove out in a rain storm to a food vendor, crying. My sister screamed at me that he was married, what did I expect? And I forget what Edith, the assistant manager on Presby's typical minority promotional track, did at the time to console me. I was only a resident for three years, and rolled to the office to be consoled, Debra Horne not yet on tap as the bully matron.

"But you're a quadriplegic, what do you want?"

Too poor even for the salve a clean slate might offer, this is all I long for, the last desire, scarcity of resource will dictate how terrible this will be for me.