Metastisis

The degree of toxic stress I'm shouldering is partly my own intransigence, and perhaps too much so: I can cancel with ATT and get cheaper ISPs, return to a partial supplemental security income, collect the 10 dollars in ETP the state would give me. The resistance doesn't come from libertarian fealty. It is not loyalty to Tony which makes me stubborn. Tony came to my twitter feed. I ran him through search, followed him back, and let John Murphy's later rhetorical question slide about what I "heard." Which means I was nice to Tony's CFO because I value what Tony Stiles represents.

I am torturing myself, to a certain extent, because I still believe I can manage my own affairs better than an income maintenance case manager, still believe I can still sustain employment (although I handled Swarthmore College in such a manner that the interviewer who ignored my questions about clips in email had three lawyers view my profile, Christ) I do intend to get mileage out of that incident as institutional liberal bias, and will hopefully find the right editor, but this is a card close to my chest.

My mother's sister, when she and I talk, says "You cannot work." I'll never accept that, but the system doesn't ease up. It isn't fair that every time I need a new power chair I have to see a primary resident, basically clueless Asian students like Dr. Mann, and then get billed 90 dollars, no closer to an evaluation with a provider who will respect me. Wheelchair users aren't programs. We're Americans, and yet a lobbyist from Jazzy gives a Medicare administrator a good snow job, and suddenly everyone in center city has this generic fuck-witted piece of machinery. It isn't right, and I blame conservatives and progressives. People like myself need the AMA to get the fuck out of our way and streamline things differently. It disgusts me.

I'm on the edge of the tight rope, however, and can't keep this up indefinitely. I did work, all by myself, for five years, and shouldn't be expendable because I'm past 50. I will send Tony a decent photo for my profile after I have change for the laundry. Things are that tight right now. 

Can't stop biology, but I am not going back to anything like the homes I've seen, and that's final.

No Phone, Next Crisis

My battery on the Apple 5c went fritz. It never stops, does it? I think my time with Liberty on the Rocks is done, not that a beer doesn't ease my ligament pain temporarily, but the wind gets sucked out of me, and if I surrender, this is what will happen: I will get inducted into Inglis House, surrender my bodily functions to minority certified nursing assistants, forced on catheters with plastic pantie underliners, have most of my every hour regulated, drugged eventually if not immediately for aggression. Whatever the renovations to the fortress on Belmont, the sterility of the little grey rooms haven't changed, the helplessly sick just staring at mounted television sets, and this is my indigent aging alternative, since the law forbids that I can put myself to sleep. What would you tell me, stop thinking about it and soldier on, shrinking and feeling discouraged? 

My recent exchange with Swarthmore made me feel trivial, insubstantial, despite the fact that the position was something I once did. What could I have submitted without even so much as a passing familiarity with The Bulletin? I have my mildly political topical op ed, a handful of medical bylines, conceded deflation in my cover letter, and had absolutely no response to guide me on samples, soldier on. I bothered Swarthmore's Human Resources department, and they've flagged me because I want to visit the campus, make contact, create another opportunity, and right now, it's impossible to do, even with a tone deaf refusal to take no for an answer.

I filed a damaged phone claim, have an appointment tomorrow, checked Google, powerless despite the fact I've remained passive with the old telecommunications giant. I suppose we'll see what happens. Cheaper device, cheaper plan. I'm worn out, simply worn out, and know I'm not the only one in a perpetual credit crisis.

Larry Carroll Cheat Ledes

I thought Stewart was in trouble, like the 39th POTUS with his braying jackass teeth. This is why I do not write for television. Carroll knows he is wrong about the type casting, and that Stewart will always owe his breakthrough fame to Rick Berman. I would not make much more money doing what Carroll is doing, and I know precisely how to do it. But no, I keep butting my head against the wall. Liberal fastidiousness. Conservative silence, or admonishment. As usual, I came online to research some items and overstayed.

What is upsetting me is my awareness of the fact I am Vester Flanagan. The furrows in his face match so many thousands, only I wanted to go further, like McVeigh, and take out an entire system with explosives, implements of mass destruction about which I know nothing. I am not Flanagan in that I wouldn't live stream any hit list kills, and I want to be clever enough not to get caught, much like Hannibal. If we come the 01 movie to Mads scene with Fuller's Pazi, both are weak, but Giancarlo Giannini's Pazi succeeds in swinging the pendulum back to remind us that Hannibal's pathological allure violates the shield of decency. What Fuller attempted to ask viewer's with his kill of Pazi, was did Hannibal rectify historical guilt, since we are to infer the Pazi crest shielded much sin.

Turning grievance into virtual reality isn't a solution, even I know that, but I do not think some of you realize what caviler attitudes leave us, in terms of consequences. I am getting nit-picky with Swarthmore. I knew I never had a chance for that position because the assistant editor viewed my profile and went mum and only told me today she wanted the full CV. I'm sure having an adamant conversation with her next week will miraculously reveal the stairway to heaven, but I'm intent on having that dialogue, and may get arrested downtown after that. I like Lane's writing at times. I prefer that masculine force, liked his character in the movie against Glass, but if he could see my home movie, the years of medical torture, the abuse, my systemic battles with the welfare state, he then might see more of a moral dilemma.