Presuming
I do not regain a modicum of the lateral transfer ability I had in September, I
do not know where I go from here. My intelligence can only do so much, and
though I’ve written before that suicides within the disabled community
contravene everything positive about empowerment modules and their mantras,
beyond a certain point there is only so much an impoverished, embattled warrior
can take, in the feasible sense. My serious consideration towards walking out
on Galahad’s provider has been braked temporarily, due to the unanticipated
descent of a service coordinator asking moronic, unintentionally cruel questions
about my medical comprehension. The regulatory paradigm under which Medicaid
Waiver services operate in the Commonwealth today defeats the very purpose of
rehabilitation law, as I reap the thrall of domestic discord without the
compensation of actually being a girlfriend, his display of temper over something
as innocuous as changing a medical appointment had the unintentional effect of
reigniting my desire, and I put my despondency aside, temporarily, not giving a
fuck about his neighbor and the sale of coffee in the least. The infuriated
black male punching my thigh softly with his frustration, this was another
matter, even as I pronged Mr. Paine about my moral obligation to continue on in
such a fashion, my control now as nil as the lesser spastics once under my
authority. Then it struck me that I had probable suspects for Paine’s identity,
simply by virtue of being a failed writer who pays attention to too many journalists, and proving my speculative target
may at least bear the measure of a mild scoop.
When
the aggregator at the helm True Pundit tweets his mind, it is a rather
fascinating recycling of Deep Throat, even as I remain skeptical about what he
thinks he knows about those in the highest echelons of power.
Insiders like Flynn, Gritz and myself -- we simply know too much. Things that if and when they become public will DWARF anything in the current news cycle. I can guarantee we're ALL -- separately -- prepping to open up cans of worms you wouldn't imagine. Many wheels in motion.— Thomas Paine (@Thomas1774Paine) June 3, 2018
Governments are,
by and large, about taxation, procurement, distribution, and enforcement, and
through these methods, maintaining social order, with varying degrees of
success. I reminded him, with a mild retort, that corruption, lack thereof, and
or intelligence, which is primarily collected to restrain and thwart the goals
of adversaries, has little effect on our daily lives, controlled by so many requirements
and processes. Certainly, Flynn and Gritz may know things which keep the
Pentagon brass awake at night, but all it might take is a Pakistani corporal
having a bad day with a warhead to make Kashmir ground zero for a third world
war. How is this relevant to those barely aloft? Nick Gillespie attributes Kate
Spade’s despair to mental illness. From my vantage point, barely able to clean
myself in soiled paper underwear, if you want to cut it short, perhaps the
desire should be respected. If I can still persuade Galahad to make love with
me one day, I am no longer sure what it would be, if it would destroy
something, propel us forward? If I leave him, in a spiteful rebuff, it may
close a final door. The first day I set eyes on him, I made the assumption we’d
be a failure within 72 hours. In 10 weeks, we’re all but functioning like a
common law couple, inextricably bound by a social medical model I’d annihilate
in a meltdown, without a second thought. If I regain a percentage of my former
ability, would I be so keen on him? Am I only fooling myself, subdued under his
egress to the point of desiring to give him a child? Empires were once made
with less, in Yogi Berra’s infamous solecism, it ain’t over, until it’s over,
fearing, as I do, I’ll not be strong enough to secure my work, and this is
where my appeal to libertarians like Austin will shortly come into play.
