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I’m starting to journal again, obviously. The purpose was, ostensibly, to try to make sense of my own world, in a way that would somehow remove me from the immediacy of the goddamn endless swamp that my life seems like sometimes, post Death Race to the Emergency Room 2016. 
Then, the world started to lose its fucking mind.
Well, to be more specific – my country lost its mind, and started to shit itself all over the rest of the world.

I remember a time… is starting to be a phrase you see a lot on Twitter. Maybe on Facebook, too, but FUCK that place.  After the damage they helped to do to the election – again, FUCK that place. And word is that Zuckerberg has his sights set on 2020. You know what?  Fuck HIM too.  
Ok. Got that out of my system.
But I do remember a time – when Bush winning the election felt like an incomprehensible insult. When having him in office and telling us to go SHOPPING as a solution to 9/11 was –
Ok, I’m about to devolve into a Lewis-Black-esque spew of FUUUUUUUUCK again.
Where we are here? Now?
Years and years ago, pre-internet, I used to carry paper journals around all the time. Never without a book to read, and never without some place to record my thoughts or collect quotes or what have you. And there was some ok writing that came out of that, but in the main, page after page of those journals ended up devolving into a downward slant – “swirling” is what my friend Mannie called it – that tendency to focus on something negative and just follow it doggedly down and endless rabbit hole of FUUUUUUUUCK…
Yeah, I like that word a lot.
But the thing with those journals was, part of why they did that - dig themselves into depths of FUCK THIS SHIT - was the self-knowledge that no one would ever read them. Outside that one time when my ex – but that was a whole other thing…
It’s more likely than not that no one will read all this stuff either. Just because it’s on the internet doesn’t mean it’s actually ‘out there’ in the sense that I’ll have an audience.
But there’s that possibility.
And it’s what helps keep me, in a weird way, accountable.
There’s the slim-to-none but still possible possibility that someone out there – might stumble across this.
And because of that, I feel like I have to be interesting. 
I have to try to make sense out of all this.
I have to have something to say, besides just endlessly howling into the void.
Because someone out there just might – maybe – hear.

That's all I was able to do yesterday. Last night
This last week.
The last ten days.

Howl. Shriek. Cry.
A lot.

The world I live in right now – my country – has stopped being accountable. Even though it has the ear of the entire fucking world – my country has gone totally tone deaf. Our sense of responsibility for and to others has disappeared faster than an old-school vampire in direct sunlight.  
Yes, I know, this has been years in the making.
But ten days –
In ten days –
I can’t right now.  I just can’t even go into it.  It’s both simple and complex, and overall overwhelming.
Whoever runs across this little time capsule in the electronic ocean - if someone ever does - if the USA and by extension large chunks of the world aren’t just smoking rubble and an EMP hasn’t wiped out colossal swaths of the Earth's collective knowledge – the Library of Alexandria writ large –
Look it up.
U.S. History, Friday, January 20 to Saturday, January 29, 2017.
Then again, depending on what happens in the coming weeks; months - who knows who’ll be writing the history books.  
All I can say right now is that in the last 10 days, I’ve lost my country. 
My mind?  I left that behind long ago.  
I just never expected to see the world around me devolve as well.
I was saying something about how journaling was supposed to keep me from ‘swirling’.
Maybe tomorrow.
Laters, internets.
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 Met with Heather twice, and it was really helpful.  for our next appointment she had stuff to do and so rescheduled for today. She was supposed to be here an hour ago.  Not responding to texts or voicemail. The organization she works for said they were going to get me a counselor. No call on that from them, either, and no response to voicemail as well.

Feeling really fucking abandoned.

Fuck this.

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So, today was the variety of interesting that is good, rather than Ye Olde Chinese Curse variety. Exhausting, but that was both due to the length of time today's tasks took and having taken Trazadone last night, which leaves me feeling fucking wiped out so completely the next day that it's pretty much not worth it as a sleep aid, since the point of sleep is rest, but - anyway...

Today was supposed to be an assessment/intake appointment for counseling, and it ended up being not the 1 hour session I expected with just a counselor, but a 4 hour 3-way with a counselor, then another counselor, and then a - I can't remember her title but it was a new variant of "case manager," the latter of which I have decided is one of the most awesome people, partly because of her personality (which says something as I don't get a long with most females), and partly because her job is to help a person search for resources, establish a baseline for pretty much all areas of your life in terms of both coping and daily living skills, and she is able to not just see people in an office, but also go anywhere at all in the city to meet with people as best suits them. In a city where there is FUCK ALL in the way of transportation if you don't have a car (seriously - the supposed 'transit system' here goes well beyond joke and way into insulting), this is a service that to me seems like an absolute godsend.  Currently I still have my car, but without a steady income coming in (see: fired CHRISTMAS FUCKING EVE, by a boss who takes the appellation of 'dickhead' to new and transcendent heights) - life is feeling not just precarious, but more like pre-fucking-inescapable-sinkhole.  It's amazing how people will listen to you when you tell them that you have a suicide plan in place, not because you necessarily *want* to die, but are about to be in a position where that seems like the best of all possible options (see also: if my healthcare goes away I only have months to live anyway, yadda yadda).

Anyway, not-case-manager Heather is coming to my house tomorrow morning to get an idea of the space I live in (and how the broom closet dimensions are one of the challenges that I'm having trouble with), and then we'll go to a cafe to continue working on figuring out what resources to pursue - one of which will be getting help applying for disability, something that I HATE the idea of doing, but have finally had to accept is a necessity.  Also, shorter term options, since getting denied - and denied - and denied - is not only common, but something that one should not only expect, but assume and plan contingencies for.  

These are the kinds of things that I find easier to help *other* people with, but when it comes to doing them on my own, for myself - I dunno.  It's like a frosted Lucite wall descends between me and the intended tasks, and I can vaguely make out the outlines, but can neither fully grasp nor connect with them.  Vapor lock or somesuch. This isn't something I have the luxury of not being able to not deal with, so - it's one of the areas I am in great need of assistance with, and is EXACTLY what Heather is all about. After today, again, I'm wiped out - but I feel more hopeful than I have in, oh, about 9 months or more. Basically, pre-hospital.  So.  We're also going to look at formulating a game plan to help me finish my incompletes for school, and maybe see if there's some way I can get funding for the A$$L0AD of expensive testing to get my teaching license. Although another thing I have to accept is that I'll never be able to teach full-time - I just don't have the physical constitution necessary for it anymore - if I can teach part-time, and do some other stuff for $$ part-time (theatre, getting the Etsy store up and running, etc.), in theory I should be able to get back to the usual things-are-tight-but-manageable space again. Poor, I'm used to.  On the  brink of homelessness - not so much.

So.  That was my day. I wanted to do the bargain movie thing tonight but I'm still feeling hung-over from that AWFUL medication last night, so I think I'm going to try to do a little cleaning - I think I may have 20-30 minutes in me before all the muscles in my lower/mid back trying to strangle my spine AND rip their way right out of my body - and then just - blargh. Watch reruns of Sherlock I think.

Seriously.  I am fucking DONE with today.

In a good way for a change.

Which is pretty damn cool.

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Note: Cross-post from LJ. May try to maintain both spaces. Under consideration.

I'm going to go on record as saying 2016 was the worst year of my life.

So far.

I'm coming back to longform writing now. Not just to bitch and moan, because that's just boring. Seriously. But I gave up on Facebook before the election, and even Twitter is just... depressing.  Even though a ton of my favorite authors are on there - they're smart and observant, and given the shape the world is in today, a lot of *their* observations and most of their links - because even more so than Facebook, Twitter is basically just a repository for rotating links - are depressing as fuck.  Don't even get me started on William Gibson.  Just don't. Suffice it to say we're basically living in the distillation of all his dystopian fantasies, just without as much of the cool tech.

But anyway.

One of the side effects of my new exciting Shittier Living through Disease and Chemistry is memory loss (See: Lupus Fog), and I'm officially entering last half of "Flowers for Algernon," so if I don't write down what's left, soon it's going to be - *poof* 



In my teens, I carried a paper journal around with me everywhere I went. Now, even that is something I forget to do, which sucks, but there it is. Part of my goal now - I don't do New Years resolutions; this goal is just coincidental - is to spend an hour a day writing. Not necessarily about myself - I may finally get the fiction thing going, or possibly write about my grandmother, because anytime I've described her life, I've almost without exception been asked, "are you going to put that in a book? Because I'd totally read that" -

So, yeah.
If I can knuckle down and be the discplined person I'm basically going to have to be to survive - assuming the Affordable Care Act doesn't actually get repealed, in which case I will be dead in roughly 3-6 months, but that's another story, hooray -

So - from now on, words should  be regularly appearing in this space.

So Mote It Be, yadda yadda and stuff.

Cheers, DW / LJ Void.
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The only thing that would make this better would be an endless loop with a soundtrack.

Dear Internets:

Make It So.

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If you want to know where some of the people you love live and walk through and what they carry every day, here's your chance to visit.

If you haven't been there, this will seem to you like a foreign country. 

You don't have to understand.

We hope
you never really do understand.

Because those moments when our heads are far enough above water to get those breaths of air to keep going -
we fucking love you.
Because you're there
and no matter what we've been like, and to a certain extent will always be -
you stayed.

We love you.
Even when we aren't able, in that moment, to show it.

We don't wish this on you.

You don't have to get it - just as long as you, you know, get it.
*mumble mumble* never mind...

This is where we live.

And this is how we do our best to survive.

These are the heroes.

These are the ones who've seen what will never be an end to the tunnel -
but who never stop reaching for the light.

Welcome to Our World.

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As he went from cunt to cunt
He became terribly sad
As he went from cunt to cunt
Terribly sad

Louis Aragon

One of these days I'll get around to a 'real' update. 
Life is happening, etc.
Stay Tuned.

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Back in the desert again.  Forgot how being 2,000 feet closer to the sun increases its influence.  At least it's a dry heat and it actually COOLS DOWN AT NIGHT.

Hopefully I'll be bringing back some of the precipitation I apparently took with me when I ventured Down South.

Dear Sandias:

Nice to see you again.  I missed you, you great snowless hills.

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DISCLAIMER:  Poster is not responsible for any health conditions exacerbated by OVER-CONSUMPTION OF TEH CUTE.  All warranties are void and prohibited.  Enter at your own risk.  Beyond this, there be dragons.

Today was kind of on the suck slide, until I saw this.  My day is officially twinkly and adowabow now.  :)
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That's right, kittens - I'm springing it on you last minute again.  Sometimes I'll warn you - sometimes, suck it up and jump in if'n ya want.


Eastern       12:00 a.m.
Central        11:00 p.m.
Mountain    10:00 p.m.
Pacific         9:00 p.m.


IMDB SEZ:  An agoraphobic father teams up with a renegade priest to save his daughter from the clutches of a gang of twisted feral children who committed an act of violence against his family years earlier.


If yer doin' it right you'll see the logo for the ifb (Irish Film Board).  If you're having technical difficulties, comment and/or hit me up on g-chat if I need to hold the curtain for you for a mo.

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Holy Swaddling Cloth of the Soiled Baby Jesus.

1 lb. of course-ground medium-to-bright roast coffee of your choice.
In a 1 gallon container, slowly pour 64 ounces of room temperature water over the grounds.
Stir gently.
Let sit for at least 12 hours, gently stirring periodically.
At the end of the brewing time, filter the radioactive contents a minimum of 3 times.
I used a fine sieve over top a medium sieve, and then ran it all again through a cotton rag filter.
Several layers of cheesecloth were another suggestion, but I didn't have any on hand.

If you like, add your choice of sweetener - I used vanilla syrup.
If you also like, dilute with half-and-half - similar to Vietnamese coffee, but - er, not.

Or drink it straight, and go directly into orbit, do not pass go, do not collect $200, do not forget your pressure suit.

And for the love of god, please don't do this with shitty coffee because it will only taste like shit, and you will have wasted a lot of time and missed out on WHAT WILL NOW KEEP ME AWAKE FOR WHAT WILL BE GOING ON 72 HOURS STRAIGHT AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

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Hi, Guys -

It's been a long, strange trip, and it's time for me to go home. 

I'm moving back to Albuquerque; shop doors closing and last train leaving Saturday, June 23rd.  If I owe you money, guns or women, now would be the time to remind me so I can complete the wire transfers, load the stockade, and bury the bodies   pay you back.

As if.

Can't say I'd ever be able to pay y'all back for everything you've done for me over the last 4 years.  Best I can do is pay it forward, and tell the next guy,"if you do twice as much for the next person, it'll only be half as much as I got."

Texas has a lot going for it.  Scenery, weather, GREAT BIG FUCK OFF GUNS -

Mostly people, though.
The people I've known here rock.

Best Wishes and again -

Thank you.

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So many old and lovely things are stored in the world's attic because
we don't want them around us and
we don't dare throw them out.

 John Steinbeck, The Winter of Our Discontent
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Marketing Engagement Coordinator

Los Angeles, California

The amusement factor isn't in the job description itself (it's quite boring) - just in the idea of working for these whackadoodles.

I'm easily amused.

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Gexa energy is about to start charging an additional $5 a month base rate if I use less than 1,000 kwh.
I've gone over 1,000 kwh exactly twice in the last 2 years.  Once was when I had a fucked up air conditioner.  Once was when I wasn't home, forgot to tell the house sitter that I'd channeled all the heat into the bedroom, and she had to crank it to keep from getting frostbite in the living room.  (Sorry, Nikki!) 

I'm going call Green Mountain and see if this is an across-the-board thing that all energy companies are going to be subjecting people to because it's being passed down by ONCOR, or whether it's something coming from Gexa, in which case fuck THAT shit - I'm going back to Green Mountain.  Even if Green Mountain's per kwh is a couple cents more, I'd probably still break even, and if this is Gexa's strategy, yeah - fuck off and DIAF.


Fuck you, Texas.
Apparently being an oil state means dirty hippies get an energy tax for not using enough oil, like Good Consumer Amerikans.

Fuck this fucking state.

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Obama gave himself a motherfucking paycut to put funds back into the federal government in an effort to prevent further unpaid furloughs for federal employees.

I'm just -

I really have no words.

Other than -

I don't agree with everything he does but by god, I am proud to have this man as my president.

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I've started knitting again; something I haven't done since I was in my 20s. 

Which basically means I haven't done it in just a little over 20 years.

That's a phrase, with variations, that I've said a lot in the last couple of years.  Referring to things that have happened "over 20 years ago."

Which is fucking depressing, except just now, I heard it in Eddie Izzard speak, which took some of the sting out of it.

Stand-up comedy:

The Ultimate Antidote.

Related side note:  One of the best biographical documentaries I've ever seen is Believe: The Eddie Izzard Story.  He's one of my favorite comedians, but more importantly, after seeing this, he is also one of my personal heroes.   I need to see it again soon - the world needs more heroes.
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Okay, someone give me your knowledges, because for absolutely no reason, this is bugging the FUCK out of me:

Is "DDoS" pronounced "Dee-Dee-Oh-Ess" or "Dee-Doss"?

I've NEVER heard anyone say the latter before, but in an interview on Marketplace just now, John Markoff kept saying "Dee-Doss" over and over, and it was like fingernails down a chalkboard to me.

Am I justified in wanting to reach through the ether and smack him, or have I just been hearing the wrong voices in my head all this time?

NOTE:  Yes, yes I know there is no "correct" form for an individual's preference of pronunciation of an acronym...  I guess...    But damnit, it just sounds WRONG.


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