Life in Pieces

Ah ha

Mr. Stiles was one of the first personalities, along with John Dunn (though the Traditionism advocate may not be a media personality in the American sense of the term), to follow my account on twitter. I hesitated for many a year to start a blog, fearful I'd get an FBI file, but even I did not realize how outraged I was, in the transition from LiveJournal to Blogger. It is a dangerous outrage, a lone wolf outrage, empathy worn clean to the bone. It made Trump president; it made me, in turn, a pariah who eventually moderated herself only by degrees, and the idea I have for Niume, so far, is just as esoteric. I want to examine objects, emotional investments to them, and that would last like what, five posts? I did not realize, when This TV first aired Dead Man's Gun, that this was a precursor to Mankell's Talisman, and the carefully crafted Colt in the show was passed on from hand to hand, like a woman down South. The studio system, whether in its droll Vancouver outlay, which in Europe is Sweden, equally droll, persists with these stories because we do tend to believe omens of our own construction, suspect the gods, in the back of our mind.

But I only have a rough composite of Tony. First, I believed he was a paranoid cowboy of about 45 years. Then in pictures I said "he's only a kid," with full bodied curls, then I saw the mohawk and the glasses. Held my tongue, and by degrees, came to realize he is what John Murphy, his CFO claims, a humanist.

I'm not, and it isn't merely theoretical, because if I decide to apply pressure points to Trudy Richardson, the minority building manager, I will be going to jail. Two can play back ending, and I'm sure it will alarm her if I strike back. I have a little plot, whether I preface it with a dossier to a firm like Gaylords, or not. But his seems to be of the Michael Clayton variety, custodial services for firm efficiency. Perhaps with the holiday lull I can discover through him if I have cause, as a special victim, to take a bite out of Presby's Inspired Life. I'm owed damages, as well as relocation, and even as I divest myself of my dad's generation, I've softened, trying to fill the gaps for my brother and sister, and Ben would like me to move near him in North Carolina. The power of that hope immediately reoriented my compass, and I might have been back in high school. But I could just as easily throw the keys in Trudy's face, and roll off, not to return without a lawyer. Will she, won't she? Does social media have safety nets?

I need to take some time on the dial and see if I can find Tony's broadcast. I do favor radio over video, but my boom box lost its aerial, and it is difficult to tune NPR.