Homeostasis

"We had joy we had fun we had seasons in the sun, but the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time.--if you ask yourself did the recording industry propel sentimental crap like this, the answer is yes.

I do not always follow the topic of the day, and in concurrence with Philadelphia sage Dick Polman, who has only corralled 3,279 social media accounts, which might be an indicator of public broadcasting malaise, and a very talented writer never quite making it to the top of the heap, which means that I learned something from him within his deconstruction of the now caramelized cultural shock of Psycho, it speaks to something beneficial to veer off topicality, resist the flash points, though at best sometimes all we can do is recycle and echo each other. Where David French would use the phrase “high voltage outrage” to designate Tucker Carlson’s segmented air time within the Fox News pantheon, the dowager would write “blockhead,” and at her most charitable, simply say the little big man anchor is a well defined Neanderthal who puts beefsteak in a three piece suit. Fuck him. Out of near death curiosity I had to stream the interview which led to Durden’s termination and feel Emory was wrong to terminate Durden solely on the basis of a blowout out with a redneck, but he’s our redneck, not some foreign invader like Llhan Omar. Viewers still have the ability not to watch what’s fed into the camera, but this medieval regression seems to be what we prefer, terrorizing wife and children rather than formulating well thought out refutation. Even thoughtful conservatives like Scott Walker cannot do what is necessary for longer term viability: shrink the damn regulatory paradigm and its wilding out growth. He may have succeeded in making us question the wisdom of public sector state employee unions, but pension funds do indeed have to be examined. I can tell you here from the bottom, that Medicaid funding is a sprawling exercise in futility, in my erroneous belief that I could have a normal life, wrong word, a presumption that I could move out of my caste, but  it's more accurate to have supposed a fulfilling one. Krauthammer could do it because his paraplegia was a tragic mishap. He was still dispassionate enough to transfer his skill set from clinical psychiatry to the science of policy. Poor Joanne wanted to excise Norman Bates' mother for Janet Leigh's poise, and wound up far more paralyzed in niggerland than John's boot camp visits entertained in our graduate years.

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.

Never mind

Forget it. I deleted the Latino gentleman's thread and if he telephones I won't return it, a little too eager as I am, I could not share space with a guy that dark who looks like a player, and the only way I can evade the state welfare system insisting that it will control my body and how I live with it is to flee, land somewhere, find associates, or attempt to find my way to a Japanese paper house with a power outlet, a tinfoil shelter in Manila, migrating on vapor. I could just hand in my notice, and Presby's negligent hate crimes toward disability non-compliance go unchallenged, protected by limitation of duration, the minority wardens successfully protect the corporation which has a vested interest in the sheer force of the welfare state, and onward. I'm an anachronism, after all, and third world migrants would be happy to trade places with me and keep this sterile studio bleached, wiped down, with an internal daily planner for the laundry.

I am not looking for a live in male to sleep with. My strategy is an attempt to hold out a little longer by depending on a guy in relative health to help me out, and split cleaning service fees, but it probably wouldn't work; nothing works except the forced imposition on my palsied frame, and yet I'm still fighting, unwilling to go down although I am thinking about it. No one wants to be this destitute, this controlled, and there are only two ways really, out of that:

1. Play the system until you acquire the power to change it through your influence, or become a Libertarian for money. That is what defines freedom, the actual power to wield it.

I've written in the past about the intimidation disability activists pose, and I've iterated my rage mirrors theirs and able bodied individuals and some more matriculated people are appalled. My mother's sister, who I've contacted since these events, says I'm not a rotten niece, but she has no idea the level of fury individuals like Debra Horne have engendered in me. I am a rotten niece, and Mary doesn't understand assisted living is for seniors who have assets which the state then reabsorbs. With the exception of a brief nine months or so when Richard Baron's precious Matrix Research Institute briefly put me in the middle class, I've been a ward of the state as an adult when my mother put me on SSI. My whole life is someone else's schematic. I quit smoking tobacco for the sake of the other residents on the floor. I've done X. I've done Y. Nothing is good enough for the minority police state which rules this city with an iron fist, consuming itself. I am beat, and unlike ISIS, I'm physically incapable of killing my way out of it.

Jason Statham's Inspiring Disenbodiment

"Mental health will drive you mad." Quiet Riot

Liberals like Paul Krugman would argue, not without some justification, that public housing affords a person of my physical vulnerability more protection than would a private rental, and indeed, when I toured the Presidential Suites between 1992-93, Linda Dezenski referred me to her private contractor for unit modification. He wanted 5k, which for me, or my father, my mother, would have been astronomical at the time, on top of the rent, and if I or the landlord terminated the lease, I would have had to restore the apartment, and although this may sound accusative, I have no idea where Linda thought I could come up with that kind of expenditure. Her department and Staroscik's department were paying me seven dollars an hour as a consultant. My entry level salary at Matrix was an improvement, but I would have needed at least an annual salary of 50,000 to maintain the lifestyle my father provided me as an adolescent, and I would have also needed tenure, which, even if I listened to all the middle class advice, put myself on an autonomic pharmaceutical regimen, would not have been guaranteed. The field was already becoming saturated, and the humanities is soft. Even a successful founding country import like Niall Ferguson buttressed himself as a historian by creating an interesting specialty as it relates to economic policy and development. I could have never hoped for that kind of intellectual magnetism, not easily afforded to women as it is.

But my intelligence still deserves better than this sterile, fatalistic paralysis, the regulatory paradigm designed deliberately not to allow me to keep my assets. I do not want to do my recertification, which will be scheduled soon, not making it easy on myself. I would have approximately six weeks to find persons unknown willing to help me pack, in exchange for what, a tutorial? Six weeks, a storage facility, deciding what to do with the feline children, what temporary shelter I could find, destroying my comfort to decouple myself from the burgeoning industry of plurality poverty in this country. The recession hit many people hard, maybe even those reading this, but my upward mobility ended because I did not have the emotional armor necessary for case management after my accumulation of inner city and suburban poverty progressed against my well being like brain plague and rabies. For such a large country to lose the dynamism of aspiration signals deeper structural flaws, and with my age, I have to trend my expectations downward, but even if Presby staff and PCA deescalate the institutional bias against me, on top of the overt discrimination and abuse, I simply cannot continue in this environment, with Jimmi Shrode's indignation a silent slap in the face with every encounter between us. I no longer know how active his near zombie partner is on Liberty's board of directors, but the two of them, as homosexual militants, like mafia bosses, have pull, and my level of critical dissent against the so called activists, it simply isn't tolerated. Aside from which, I simply cannot return to 714 Market Street. That my conflict with disability intake is so public is, of course, in the present tense, my responsibility, but when I was being humiliated by them, this was not due entirely to my breakdown. Linda put me through my paces with former colleagues, former suburban school mates and neighbors. It is very difficult to live with, and Riverside's tentacles are very much entwined with it. Henry Miller, so slowly digested, has been a bad influence, evidently, as if I could waltz, penniless, from predicament to predicament, without legs to stand on-- though there are sexual fetishes out there which could garner me traffic in the red light district. 

Warhol Whittled, 15 Microcrons

Being and non-being create each other.--the Tao

Do Britains themselves remember that their military used to be efficient and even ruthless? Not that I expect Elizabeth to suddenly recalibrate her decorative, if sovereign authority over the isles, but if I had Cameron's ear, I would publicly execute these suspects as no better than rabid dogs, and I mean publicly, in the centre of London if need be, after two days of watching video of these ethnic Nigerians behaving no better than if they indeed had a rabies infection, a more than glaring example of how we have outpaced ourselves, how diversity backfires, and how medieval norms seem to insist on cohabitation within a digital age. I used to believe that juxtapositions such as these events were merely literary conceits, merging post-modernism, futurist techniques, but it is another thing entirely to be living amid such disconcerting savagery, and I am not entirely blameless there. Then again, neither are you.

The fact that these attacks are increasingly shallow and cosmetic illustrates how efficient western military technology has been against Al Qaeda, but I cannot imagine even an old and comforting militia like the I.R.A. engaging in such barbaric cowardice that these two Londoners exhibited, and to publicly shame them in a ritualized hanging might do the body politic some good, *Christian* and *Islamic* alike.

Short of snapping my foot fusion, or breaking my leg, which has not quite happened yet, I had a horrible day with my lateral transfers. If someone had sat me down when I was 23 and said "Liberty is going to destroy every hope and aspiration you have," I would have snorted with incredulity, just like you probably sneer at my posts in the same manner, but they did. I am not going to be able rub Aladdin's Lamp and marvel at miracle magic.

The Postman Always Rings Twice?

"Stop being a wuss." The American idiom. 

Yes, the half dead cripple down a ways from Harvard's faculty offices upbraided the merry Niall Ferguson. WTF do I know about Keynesian stimulus and aggregate demand? Not nothing, but also not very much, and the reason for this is a very studied winner, on or around the time of Gerard Debreu, won the Nobel in economics for the radical assertion of "doing nothing" to manage free markets.

But let me deconstruct what Niall meant, in a revisionist sensibility: Keynes was a repressed homosexual and this therefore this influenced his lack of optimism in bust cycles; it may not be true, but Ferguson was acknowledging difference, and goodness forbid. Pink camels like Manuel read their public the riot act on the hidden genocidal impetus toward gays. This is poppy cock. I befriended a number of gay individuals Manuel, and not all of them intended me psychological harm, but many of these people hurt me, and then they wander off. Niall is not blaming Keynes for the great recession, only asserting that Keynesian lack of optimism came from a darkened well spring. This assertion may be contended, and is, vigorously, but it is not an observation made out of hate.

Me? I am asserting that my personal experiences created the hate, and that the hatred is justified. I simply haven't expounded on what this means, since I do not believe extermination in any measure is viable. Murder may be liberating, but it also consumes a significant amount of energy to conceal, and has no geopolitical justification.

Neither does subsistence, however, which, like my latest spring head cold, threatens to envelop me, and that is in some measure my fault, with lack of post-graduate completion, but not entirely, as I have always known I wasn't healthy enough to field an average teaching load. Hence maybe I wasn't wrong not to accrue more debt. But you have no idea what it's like; you cannot.

The majority of babies born disabled should be euthanized. Oral history informs that I fought for my life, and surprise. If someone had shown me what my life would be, would my premature struggle had been so adamant?