Death Knell of the Knell

If anything killed my appreciation of the digital  medium, it's Facebook. Much like Yabberz, I don't like it, though most of my feed is my family behaving like the American Catholic class. I understand it is like anything else, account links and feed, but it's rather killed the internet for me, all tacky, flashy, bread and circuses. I prefer Twitter, though we all have to resist that to some degree. Yet I am uneasy, because there is spillover, and not just the Chicago attack. People do horrendous things, thinking what, that they'll get a following for engaging in victimization?
Craig Brittain and I make an unlikely alliance. I followed him first, primarily because Uber models intrigue me, and anything I might apply to make independent living less static is worth paying attention to. He complained this afternoon about leftist troll accounts, and I waded in without need of reference, without backing down either, and he kindly gave me permission to explore opportunities with him, so I sent him a LinkedIn connection request. I'm not partial to LinkedIn either, but it is necessary for me to maintain a presence there, even if I find work-- but I am unsure indicting Twitter's administrators to crack down on bogus accounts solves our freewheeling problems with  the online wild west. I myself am getting slightly over my head with libertarian factionalism, addressing Adam in the familiar as though he's remember the hard bitten wheelchair woman in her skirts, but that's neither here nor there. He proselytizes well for those who adore him; my alienated dissonance is of another timbre, however. Disaffection probably means I need some breathing space. 

Rapport

Just orating to orate, off any semblance of a construct, I spoke to Karina, and insulted the woman, but she shall be returning, once, to fix whatever the fuck she did with my contributor copies, and after that? I am nearly at the end of my rope, and may need to take a few weeks off to throw all of my remaining energy into relocating, with my declining health being what it is. 

Before the seasonal festivities, Uber astonished me by affirming they can drive a power chair user, although my interior red flag said "This, I have to see..." If Karina can assist me with packing and an Uber driver can pick me up, all I would need is a destination, a breathing hole on the Siberian tundra, buying one of Gerard's watches, in the carcass of his lions.

He is like a Jamesian type, Depardieu, a musketeer with no king, grabbing at the scruff of the beast for being senile, alluding to my problems with little Vincento, always the most difficult, if most Egyptian, of my felines. Eleven, thin, gaunt, leaving surprises for this terse unhappy woman you read who needs a change in order simply not to die; kimmy, to drive the wedge further, has a fascination with the dung bags I put in the trash. I'm going to let them go soon, the children, because if I really want to leave niggerland (with its Korean influx), Vinne will have to be euthanized sooner than Oliver was.

Mio padre, serial abuser, is hovering over my stepmother, a wasted carcass herself with the rheumatoid arthritis leading into leukemia. She's dying. Father beats her as he raised his hand to my mother, and yet the eighty year old man clothes himself in the mortality of my mother's nursing school associate, Louise. My father shall lose his third and very crippled wife who thinks her very crippled stepdaughter should be put away, just as he lost his son, crying in my mother's arms. He didn't want Nicky to die' he didn't want Nicky to die, and Nicky died, wasted husk of pestilence, and Louise shall die as well. She has always been sickly, and I wonder if she ever cared for patients at all, with her red crumbled knuckles, repulsive lizard of a woman. My aunt Marie is smoking again and if she must she must but cost the state a fortune for her cancer. 

I don't deny. I'm simply caught, like the virile Gerard in his prime, between the frigid and the fulsome, screwed over by both. I'll too exclaim "Fuck your Schubert!" Forced to surrender without knowing how.