Blah g Type Thing

‘Ello dear reader(s)!

Hi.  I am posting to keep posting, but today has gone by much faster than I had originally planned.  This day got away from me like Frank Lee Morris got away from Alcatraz.  It got away from me like the ball that was hit as Jhonny Peralta’s inside-the-park home run got away from Ryan Rayburn in a July, 2010 Tigers-Indians game.  It got away from me like the concept of a government of the people, by the people, and for the people got away from the American public.

So anyway, I was going to write a well-thought-out piece about how nobody knows what to believe anymore, why, and how that fact is destroying civilization, but instead, I am sitting here getting ready to go take some medicine for the fact that the colder night air is setting off my neuropathy before commencing with the evening family fun that does not involve sitting in front of a computer.

I intend to write my post tomorrow, however, I intend to do a lot of things that never get done.  I intended to be a multimillionaire by age 21.  I intended to win the Nobel Peace Prize.  I intended to solve all of the world’s problems.

So Imma gonna spenda little time a-readin’ some of y’all’s posts before I go have fun.  I wish you all a peaceful and happy whatever day it is when and where you read this.  May the force be with you, and also with you.  3580220.

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Satan’s Chicken

Hello dear reader(s)!

I had just written my 990th word on a post about big changes coming for the next year, when I realized I don’t want to telegraph my intentions yet.  So I scrapped it, and now you get to read this fascinating post with a title that is not at all pertinent to any topic discussed for nearly the entire remainder of this post, its subsidiaries, and all affiliates.  Void where prohibited.

My post was well-written, and I was quite proud of it, but I feel as though it would ruin the fun for which I have in store only display model, regular price $99.99.

So now you are reading a post called Satan’s Chicken that doesn’t even really talk about Satan, nor his delicious chicken recipe of 666 herbs and spices.

So, what shall we talk about?

Let’s go over my favorite things to talk about, shall we?

Ready?

Okay!

How funky is your chicken, how loose is your goose?  How loose is your goose?  So come on all you followers and shake your caboose.  Shake your caboose.

Here are a few of my favorite topics, in no particular order.

  1. Sex  I’ve kinda beaten that one to death unless I get all explicit or confessional up on your asses, and no, those were not purposeful euphemisms.
  2. Cannabis  AKA Weed, AKA medicine, AKA, should be fucking legal already and is the only thing that even comes near touching my neuropathy.  Maybe another day.  I have made my opinions clear on that topic and feel no need to beat that one to death either.  Except right now I am strongly against laws that limit delivery to patients with a medical card which I could obtain if I felt like waiting forever for the medical card, and paying the fee up front, instead of in the form of higher taxes each time I buy recreationally for my medical condition.  Still, with the lower per-transaction prices and the higher limits, it might be something that I should look into – although my desire to leave within the next year makes me think it might not be worth it.  One bad thing about my medicine, is that even though I have replaced numerous prescriptions for this one, insurance doesn’t cover it so it can be a bit pricey.
  3. Politics  What politics?  There are no politics.  Only a sale of what we all have built to the world’s most powerful horders of wealth and resources.
  4. Music  Heard any good music lately?  I haven’t.   Nothing to talk about there either.
  5. Love  I’m in it.  Y’all knew that already.
  6. Blogging  I intend to more often because I need to get back into it.

Well, I am at a loss.  Another one of those moments where I have a ton to say, but think I might want to keep that quiet for just now.

So thank you for reading this post that is only really here to keep me posting.  I love you all.  Send love to pop-pop and his concubine.  Tell Timmy that Lassie just went to a nice farm where she can run and play all day long.  May your chicken be delicious, with the glory of our dark lord Satan in every bite.

*I don’t believe in Satan, which is why I have no problem eating his/her/its delicious chicken.  

 

2017

Hello dear reader(s)!

Well, what the fuck can I say?  This has been a year.

I have no idea what kind of year, other than a really fucking eventful one that somewhat resembles a rapid cycling bipolar demon on meth.

Anyway, I am having trouble deciding how I will remember this year.  On the one hand, I met my love, who I am certain I was literally destined to be with, and on the other…. our country fell to fascism.

My health has both improved and regressed.

I have become both more generous and selfish with who I am generous to.

Up and down, up and down, up and down.  It’s like we are all getting roughly fucked by this year to the point where at times, it hurts too much to enjoy it.

2017 has been about rediscovering me, what matters to me, and being me without apology.  In that rediscovery, I feel I have grown.

My lovely fiance, has been the driving force behind much of that growth.  She saw me, and loves me, and so she is helping me be much more me.  With her, I feel better about myself (with the exception of my health), than I ever have.  Her love of those aspects of me I was always a little ashamed of or feared judgment about have greatly improved my self-opinion.  I hope I have helped her grow as well, as I see and love all sides of her, hidden or not, light or dark.

The biggest thing that I have learned this year, is that I just don’t belong.  I belong with my fiance.  I belong with some family.   I belong with a chosen small group of friends.  I belong with the few like-minded people who have no taste for the fucked-up way our society works.  Trump’s election, while a catastrophe, did serve to cause me to stop trying to fit in with so many people in this goddamn backwards country and only bother trying to hold or maintain relationships with those who I consider my tribe.  Us weirdos, who are only weird because we don’t choose to so willingly conform to the expectations of a failing society.

I am getting better at brushing off the negativity of those who still believe that misogyny and racism make a geographic region great.   I am getting better at ignoring the notion that people are successful if they drive a certain car or make a certain figure at the job they work in order to support the family that they lose connection to while working too much to provide for that family.  I am getting better at rejecting the advice of people who never really seemed as happy as I have been, or who have no idea what I have been through, or have been actively responsible for the terrible life choices I have been presented with.

In 2017 I realize that anyone who has an issue with me, has never walked in my shoes.  And when I think of how fucked up they are, despite their advantages, their lack of catastrophic illness, and not having to face even one-tenth of what I have faced but still feeling like maybe I have my shit better together than they do in what actually matters to me, well, 2017 is the year that says I am glad they have issues with me, because I have issues anyone who thinks they have some clue how I should behave.

It occurs to me, that I never wanted the life that was taken from me anyway.  I never wanted that 40 hour a week office job that created nothing but profits for a behemoth conglomerate exploiting my labor so that I can stress myself to a heart attack while missing out on life.  I never wanted that plan that was predetermined for me.  Maybe I knew somehow, that it wouldn’t be possible anyway.  But more likely, I knew I was never cut out for a life resembling most people, because from an early age I knew most people were fucking miserable.

My biggest regret is ever being swayed away from myself in the first place.  I only ever wanted a creative life since I was young.  But my generation was pushed so damn hard into academic, paper-pushing jobs that were all downsized while we were in school anyway.  Now that I am disabled, somehow getting lucky from selling some creative work is the only chance I have to really generate any wealth that is available to me.  And given that people who work for other people haven’t really been able to generate their own wealth in decades without property gambling… it seems as though more creativity is  also the only chance for many others who aren’t physically unable to hold a “normal” job.  The problem is, if I had been able to devote more time and effort to creative pursuits than to the useless paper chase that was school, that long-shot chance of getting lucky selling something creative would be much less long.  I must admit, I am still deeply resentful that I was purposefully steered toward a life that could only bring mediocrity in the best of circumstances.

I shouldn’t have listened.  I never should have conformed to what others wanted from me.  I wish it didn’t take me so long to realize that.  2017 is not the year that I should have figured out that I can’t stand the thought of being anyone but me.  Oh well, better late than never.

I am excited for 2018.  I am ready to live next year with both middle fingers extended to those who try to tell me how to live it.

Featured Image by By Dan Bennett from Seattle, USA (DSC_2046 Uploaded by X-Weinzar) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons