Humanist Bound

I figure, if I am getting blocked without being able to pinpoint either the user or the rationale, it must be because I put too much heart in saying "look, here is the end of the road!" I have little to no idea how Carson will change section 202 policies by the beginning of April, but by any reasonable standard, I am non-complaint, and my interior is not orderly, nor clean. Eight year old carpet needs section replacement, etcetera, yet shame is the least of my concerns, as I sat here attempting a minor note of eloquence to Sheldon Novick, his a learned mind of wonderfully constructed explanations of our best achievements. Henry James as a collector of social culture. Legal theory that turned constitutional law into the progressive victory whose zenith culminated, and started its process of erosion, under Lyndon Johnson, and I, in my worst moments, the stoking troll with charcoal eyes whose rage, when she is really tired, really tired, is beyond reason in its destructive cruelty. His social media metrics are sterile, Sheldon's, though I alternate with my distance of address from him, one one formal, "Dr Novick," which feels pretentious. He is neither colleague nor instructor, we are not socially familiar, and my numbers, not huge by any margin, yet more dynamic than his, My private message failed because the Toshiba cursor bounces and I lost the window. Sheldon would not care and I'll try another day. He's been extremely generous with me, and I feel traces of guilt. How can I froth with genocidal pathology and appreciate his scholarly arguments in the same brain mind dualism? There are ways to defend libertarian freedom and deplore Donald Trump simultaneously. I'm getting there but I'm not superhuman, and if I give this building manager her victory, go out into a cruel world into an environment where many people my age are strapped, I at the very least, need a destination. At the same time, I am too overwrought. But I am not doing what I plan to because of libertarian theory. Last time I checked, we all live once, and I need to get the fuck out of here, and the wreckage of my past in the gait of Jimmi Shrode's indignation, his partner's virtually zombie dead body with catheter tubes. Erik is a literal figure out of Shakespeare's supernatural.