Tubular Enemy

Famine (Irish: an Gorta Mór, [anˠ ˈgɔɾˠt̪ˠa mˠoːɾˠ]) or the Great Hunger was a period of mass starvation, disease, and emigration in Ireland between 1845 and 1852.

Do you ever expend useless capital on a frivolous enterprise? I was examining my LinkedIn Pulse transmissions, wondering why I want to write a LinkedIn post in the first place. I've been out of the game a very long time due to Philadelphia's periodic contractions of services leading up to the Great Recession; by 2010, despite cyclic familial monetary gifts, my money market account was wiped out, and I am exactly back where I was at the age of 23, except for the apartment, this one less functional than that on 1500 West Page Street. Out of curiosity I plugged my old zip code in search 19121, and came up with numerous dead articles and defeated HUD promises about humane, aesthetic, disability housing, wondering if this is an alternate Google verse. Why is writing a relatively generic and nondescript LinkedIn post important to me? To prove I'm still capable, not white trash, not so broken I cannot speak business? The writer Mark Johnson actually is listed as a Leftist Review contributor, hence I found him outside of Yabberz, to hypothetically tell his bosses he is an uncouth bastard, something I could never get away with on LinkedIn Pulse, on which I'd hardly be featured. I cannot afford to support LinkedIn, even if I had not been defeated by governmental insistence on spend down of my resources; regardless, without some form of steady commissions, I would have been wiped out anyway. What do I still believe I am able to do? In terms of my age and all the rest?

I can hardly answer. It is akin to the differential between an agnostic and a Roman Catholic atheist who should lie down. My drive, curiously, went splat for a bit after I got a yes on my pitch. I am procrastinating again, no set deadline, but not ready to blow two gigabytes frying my brain on comparative data and need to relax, keep pitching, stay aware of the fact I'm no longer 35, get some rest, and trust in the fact that if I am not going to Inglis House, then be assured of my own strength and let the state know it will have to kill me first. There are publications I wouldn't submit to. Not that Mark's is one of them, but he'd probably have me black balled if he put my avatars together. Dog days coming in. I think I could move to Ohio without much culture shock, if I could stay out of the hood.

PS: twitter assisted me with my research without so much as a blink, and that is something.