Frying my brain, I applied to be an upload writer once again at an automated upload site and failed their entry test with a 60% correct answer ratio. They want 70%. I preferred speed, simply getting it done, and this is what the digital age has reduced us to, never mind the 34 years I've spent slogging through the small presses. I really used to believe my CV amounted to something, and without logging in, discovered my mostly aggregated content at Examiner.com is still there, laughing with insane raspy squirrel vocalizations, the site applied to didn't want to know anything about me. Researching pitches. I have ceased querying everyday, wondering what the point is if I cannot afford guild/union fees. Writer's Market rarely lands me anything usable. I'll share something stark: I hit Reason Magazine with a pitch about McVeigh's legacy, tying it into Arlington Road thanks to this esoteric account with my disturbing negations, and supposed I could jump through security clearances necessary to correspond with home grown Oklahoma anarchy and actually received a no thanks! I mean we know enough to be ignored, right? How dark is that? Maybe the editor wanted to keep me on his good side, but it is still an idea I'm turning over, negotiating with myself how to toe the line without simply delving into hermeneutic prognostication.
But I can't keep hitting the same publication due to libertarian arousal. Kimmy is on my lap, pestering me to watch her eat. I need a break. Maybe I am simply a stupid obnoxious bitch. McVeigh went after indiscriminate targets. I prefer targeted assassination, but as Gary Sinise told a corrupt Nicholas Cage in another conspiracy film, there is always an adjustment in every operation.
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