Sometimes I weary of directories, and remain tempted to let Writer's Market drop, as they cannot keep their information logs current. I did not initially approach FEE in order to spend hours in research, only to fail twice, and then support them on the skeletal remains of my father's affluence, simply for a byline geared towards yuppies. But if I can pass Jeffrey's muster at a future date, it is a gateway back to my former success, matriculated in the Fourth Estate. I also chewed a cuticle on Reason, remaining good as my word, not because Brian will keep telling me "no," so much as because I too want to move beyond core libertarian tenets, not that I do not see now that they go small scale, with one or two in depth features. Neither publication matters right now. I am exhausted, even through the graft I took from Jeffrey in January was small, and needs to be altered, expanded, for other outlets. So why, then, when Mr. Tucker was being surreptitious about rum as the "spirit of pirates," did I not reply with repartee in kind?
My tweet, in fact, was inappropriate. Don't write it in public, I told myself, but did, that my abuser stepfather drank rum, so I prefer gin. Conservatives eschew victimization, and that small pin drop on my part was escalating, mildly. From what I can tell, I like the man, and do not begrudge the paddle too much. On some things I have to pay the price of going slower. As long as I can function as writer, too, topics can recycle, in unexpected ways. Learned that by now. It was not his rejection that compelled me, so much as I was saying something about distribution of bad outcomes. It is difficult enough that for spastics, fluidity of motion is a fantasy. We also have to become poultry dishes for bigoted den mothers and carrion for ambulatory predators, and here I am, still trying to compete with the best minds, driving myself to exhaustion because the Night Owl kicked in after morning lethargy; even though I am not sexually attracted to Ray Liotta, all the sudden he's an interesting fuck. I am not sure how to explain this, even to myself. Repulsion arousal, hate sex, ferocity bang.
As to schedule, syndication has thrown me some godsends, though I want to budget in High Castle for itself. We'll see. I need to chat with ATT and see if my old battle axed PC's can handle the wireless device, and then change my plan. I feel like a fucking data fugitive, not particularly healthy, in and of itself.
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