Death Knell

"Your mouth is your weapon," a Jamaican named Esmin, long gone

The progressive left does have its own economic mechanism, one of equally limited resource distribution. It is called the grant proposal; this philanthropy is the driving engine of academic studies, and it is also an important part of why Liberty Resources inducts the disabled, and then gets sued and hated by them, people like me, but to broaden the scope, NCIL, of which Liberty is a member, would not exist without two things: Medicaid Waiver resource allocation, and grants awarded by Foundations, or trusts like Pew, which funded me at Matrix, until I turned off the tap. (Yes, I resigned and caused the disenfranchised to lose their income, talk about tough love.) I have written more than dozens of posts about why NCIL's "centers" are a fucked, static little bubbles, destroying as many disabled lives as they empower, but even outside of community integration models, disabled individuals who are matriculated, because they want to help, make promises on which they cannot deliver. Disability In Arts, which now hangs quietly on Yahoo Groups, a fucking disaster, because the real crips could not understand I was after an aesthetic inquiry, and lezzie bitch did her thing, as I've posted in the past, but look at her flatulent happy face, whereas I hide behind a baby picture, because, offered me additional sorry experiences. Another lesbian, who looked like Meat Loaf, worked at a technical school in Maryland, and offered me a class on this very topic, utilizing pop culture, like Star Trek. then she vanished, after I duly printed the syllabus. After pressing her, I discovered her department did not have the money to bankroll the course. Why did she offer it to me then? I cannot pay my bills with a slap on the back to console my intelligence. I went through a similar experience with a PhD in San Francisco with polio. I was going to edit and mentor challenged journalism students. Her grant fell through, but as she had not blindsided me, I stayed with her voluntarily. I inadvertently became terse-- I do not mean uncouth and belligerent, as I am here, just testy, about something, and she, being a Bay area liberal, cut me loose. That was that. She was just "trying to help," and I knew that. I wasn't trying to break up, but I was indigent then, very badly so. It is a travesty that my mother would have to die with an unexpected insurance payout five years or so later, and I utterly failed to get myself out from under this building-- but I can't dwell on that. It wasn't enough of an asset for a commercial lease. I would think, that even though wheelchair users have the shared experience empathy, we could try a little better to stop setting ourselves up for failures like these. Dale doesn't quite fit into this promises promises, as he and I don't know each other, but it came to the same thing, cross purposes. He IM'd about his grant, I IM'd back I'd be willing to explore a job proposal, and if it walks like a duck, it may actually be arsenic destroying Puget Sound's ecosystem. I need work, not giving him a free plug. It is true I've used Australian sources for my past features blowing up attendant care, but that can only be taken so far. My sense is that the Australian IL net is more pervasive than the stateside system in the US, more laissez faire, as is intimated in Muriel's Wedding, but I have little inclination to relocate to England's penal colony, and have little idea what Dale and his peers are complaining about, in terms of quality controls, as it seems.
In light of this, the Chicago attack, which went viral long before I paused to see the news clip in the traditional way, illustrates that the law is often as cock and bull as these failed empowerment attempts. If it had been me, I would have forced that lovely Windy City crew to mortally injure me. To echo Michelle Cottle, out of the old New Republic, before candy ass Hughes bought it, all hate crime statues do is overburden a judiciary that is already overtaxed with addicts eating their own feces.

In the abstract

The live in partner is not a bad idea for a woman of my age, but the matches are exhausting me, illustrating how fucking useless the activist cacophony of celebration around the ADA is. I telephoned one or two listings from the resource site, responded to perhaps 5 email addresses on my own before I scrolled down far enough to see the automated response instructions, deleted some 50 odd emails on my own, and the staying meme for those of my generation is that we're already dead. I certainly feel that way, and yet, if I call the 9th ward police division to file a criminal complaint against my building manager Trudy Richardson and her social worker Debra Horne, am I hastening my demise or will special victims take me seriously?

I've sustained overwhelming, systemic abuse on attendant care, and no one seems to give a flying fuck that I lack the endurance to keep taking it. I am in a very bad mood, everything hurts, and I am trying to calculate if I can get myself up if I slip in the shower stall a second time.

Limits

The Able Act is an expansion of the SSA work incentive known as PASS; this is what today's crop of otherwise brainless assholes are excited about; just as the ADA was grandfathered into federal statue on the basis of the 504 Rehabilitation Act, the Able Act would simply expand the tent to the mentally retarded who can be bridled, like a mule, to engage in simple slave labor tasks. Not necessarily a bad idea. Idiots become senior citizens if they live long enough-- my scorn, as usual, goes to the progressives who think all this layering achieves anything at all. You are shielded from the veneer of bad case managing and its bigotry. The Levy brothers of Beacon do not see it. Offering me inclusion on Writersblock was kind, and even discriminating, since my foul language and blatant prejudices have their ups and downs, but that kindness is not analogous to repairing a foul and evil system. You do not see how Trudy Richardson and Debra Horne treat me for my non-compliance; the fact that I dehumanize them makes my readers uncomfortable, and a part of my imagination enjoys their denigration. The only one who understood that was Erik, the dying transsexual. He told me to tell Debra to "go fuck herself" quote unquote, on a bad post stroke evening when I still leaned on a dialogue with the devil for lack of any other outlet. Some years back, but after my molestation in 2006.

For whatever stupendous reason, I was going to tweet about my bad transfer to bath chair on New Years Day. Why, I have no idea. Nicotine cramps impair my interior transfer balance. Swiveling back to power chair is more difficult than pivoting out, but finally, after two hours of trying to plant my soles, I did nit fall only because my left arm held my weight long enough for my right elbow to wedge my right buttock in. No tweet soliciting advice, no guard seeing me as a naked brick bat, no cop. It was close, but why tweet it? Even as most of us carry digital reality even moments before dying, why am I now so much engaged with 160 character affectation when it is too late for me? When urban ineptitude destroyed everything for me, even as I function on superhuman antipodes.

I had forgotten about gimpgirl. She bores me, and my caustic sensibility offends her no doubt, despite the fact she retweeted my snip about the ACLU on speed dial-- but again, no one from the online disabled community interacts with me-- why? Because I have crucified CILS as segregated bullshit? Relentlessly embarrassed Linda Dezenski? Disengaged from a midget like Louise with a bad attitude even though I held my frustration in? Disability activists are strident, unipolar, and evidently cowards. If they were truly in control of their IL centers, I would not have emerged from being lied to for four years, humiliated by suburban classmates, and none of you have anything to say. If I am so wrong, so warped, as cripples, you should. I'm going to shut Liberty Resources down, even if I have to go to prison, and I mean it. The last of my assets mull Ritter's bimbo.

Petty Shallows

I am reluctant to use the active ingredient in Mucinex, which is Guainfensin, to treat my chronic pulmonary decline, because it was certainly not designed for emphysema, but it is the best decongestant I have ever used that is an over the counter treatment. At least it used to be, and although I am unexpectedly drying out, as I posted yesterday, I do not need a relapse, and popped another with breakfast, and this is left over capellini and sardines; no driving out in the rain, even for Fancy Feast; the children will have to make due with the Purina K&K and my two small cans until tomorrow. A shower would make me feel better in one sense, but I need the breeze; it eases the still air in the unit that makes me labor, and so I will wait a little longer to feel confident about closing the windows and getting wet.

Due to the light winter, I am very much afraid of a summer with hard driving temperatures, and perhaps need to grit my teeth and buy a fan, and expend energy on how to keep the children safe with it in the living area.

Again, you may feel that my moral blame laid at the doorstep of  Linda, Liberty, and Presby is representative of impaired judgment, but, by the time I glued myself back together from what Linda had done, I lost unrestricted use of Paratransit, and Presby was harassing me, constantly. My tense relationship with this company did not begin with their hire of Trudy Richardson, and if I am forced to continue my decline here, it will not end with her departure. Building managers are like candied almonds to this corrupt religious entity.

I have detailed numerous other instances for you in these years, and now things may be stable, but my health is failing, and sustained victimatization has as much to do with that as my struggle with ending tobacco use. Internalizing my abuse has not been good for me, and as a factual matter, the law may not have any exceptions to offer me to pursue any kind of justice.

Still, I took the time last evening to print my templates, and the kids, because I have been cautious, haven't noticed anything.

I do not fear my state representative, or complaining to her. I fear the fallout at the end of the day if I persist in keeping these things front and center as violations of the Americans With Disabilities Act, and my civil rights. Maybe I am mistaken if I think the ACLU is an effective shield here, but I am packing up my first copy to them, with additional letterhead. I do not know about Governor Corbett, but I am hoping to use his lack of enthusiasm of ADAPT and Cassie James, to my advantage.