Disaffection

"thank you for following me" a direct message 

Mr. Harris may have forgotten that he was following a nasty a bituminous troll, because he sent yours truly a direct message which asserted that he'd "return the favor," when I decided to let his feed on my stream, an indicator that he may have ignored my links. My synaptic connections aren't what they used to be either; I too struggle with fine print, but I try to visit my twitter page and trim the branches.

I may stop linking my DIA posts so often, however, if the moral majority is going to pressure Blogger to silence me. Where that pressure came from might be nice to know, but I am not going to let it stop me, not that I can fight Google, I know that. This software belongs to the company, and the First Amendment applies to the public square-- but Blogger succeeded in making me angrier, inadvertently, perhaps.

I am, on occasion, chastised by the establishment for lack of relevance, which annoys the holy shit out of me when it comes to social media. I wanted to talk about texts, on Linked In, with those who taught them, but down came the muzzle, "lack of relevance," without me breathing a word about my personal situation. I could not fight back, Linked In couldn't tell me anything, and yet I had to be mortified.

This isn't virtual stigma following real life prejudice? We do not have to thank followers in thousands of automated emails. Think about it. I'll leave my account. I like Medium, and think it's better for us than thousands of writer authors tweeting what we won't read. I like BeaconReader too, and for that I need twitter. 

I'm mean, hurtful, and occasionally vile, but I am also challenging and divergent, and you really need to stop and think about the price people like me are asked to pay. I am in exactly the same room I was when I was punted off Poets & Writers. How many of those authors have moved on, been able to change? I am in exactly the same studio where Linda squealed to me like a pig about her orgasms, and she may have left the disability center, but I am sure the bitch has her mortgage paid off. I know she, and Josie Byzek, whom I've also offered choice words, have online access. Jimmi Shrode, who is afraid of me, may too. Jimmi is afraid of me, instinctively, and he should be, but he can walk, and has what he wants, at least until Erik dies. I'm alone; I'm in pain, and I live in an environment I never wanted to be, and all you fine players can't handle it.