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Migrant bloggers! I’m starting to consider taking down my substack, but it stinks! Why’d they have to ruin it? They ruin fuckin everything. Who’s They? The owners of everything we try to use for connection, sharing knowledge, and socialization. They have to pour poison down its throat. Pretty soon they’ll come and ruin this, ruin any chance of using the internet to express humanity. Goddamit. Who are these Nazis that substack purportedly platforms? Are they really getting inshitificationed? Are they going to shit on us? I didn’t know Nazis could write more than a few sentences, so Idk how the hell some Nazis joined substack. And I heard they (substack) are platforming (new verb) what’s his name: Tate? Some asshole. Well, so much for that. I’ve written so many blogs, and I saved a lot of them. I want to download my shit on substack and sign off for good. But I got my family to get on there to follow me and now they like it! This process and wherever you are in it, it’s easy to look back at people, even your own family, who’s a few steps behind you (still has Amazon Prime, still shops at Target, doesn’t hate Elon Musk, uses ChatGPT to look up the easiest shit, enjoys convenience if the price of it isn’t obvious and they can ignore it for awhile longer. Then you’re out here like a lunatic— don’t shop there!@. don’t use that! And people are like (rightly so), don’t fuckin judge me. but we should keep judging them. because people who judged me got through to me. This was partly possible because I’m so wishy washy (like soap), and have the audacity to cast off old skins. I’m willing to change. And even change back. My core (whom I can hardly know) is essential and timeless (whatever time is). Anyway, is it my own wish for convenience that I don’t want to delete my stuff on substack instantly? Well, yes. I’ll get to it. Because I get to things! Everyone in my family gets to it, even if we’re extremely defensive at first. Words repeat in my head. The worms of my brain work independently, and for free.

Dear Jason Noyes,

(An elegy/ode to you, or to Alcoholism, and to couples that drink in the dawn of each day)

Hi buddy, hi love… Jay Jase. How’s it going for you in heaven? Skateboarding with the homies, bourbon on ice, and swimming with sharks every day? Did Young Money join you yet? (your Frenchie, he loved you). Young Money was a good boy. I couldn’t believe you left him.

I COULD believe that you left me. I never expected anyone TO stay with me. Or did I leave you first? I did. fuck. I’m sorry. I had to, though.

My bottom line was homelessness.

I can’t be homeless, man. But I could answer when you call me on the cell phone (the free one they gave you), flirting, drinking out of a paper bag in the cold (it’s not allowed in the shelter), and asking me to come back to Brooklyn. (Hell no).

I enjoyed arguing with you about life, and being a little scared of you. I liked making you a little scared of me. Because I deserved to feel these things after All the psychic molotov cocktails I hurled at the chain of receding threats, threatening me with love.

I wasn’t the chic who was sexiest or the most cool or fun, but I was your last commitment. The gay one. The dyke. The mean one. Remember me? We were friends more than anything. Not good friends, more like frenemies. Like Paris Hilton and Nichole Richie. No, like Gaga’s, “Bad Romance.”

No, like “Bar Flies,” starring Mickey Rourke and Faye Dunaway. Watching it together, laughing. Girl, don’t eat the green corn.

I still start every day grinding beans for coffee, adding cream, and sugar, honey, or syrup.

Then, after I write for awhile, some hours, (unless I have to go to work), I mix Cutty Shark or similar blend of scotch with seltzer water and orange juice, just a small one. Then I’ll write a bit more, or walk my dog, and then I might nap.

Around 2pm, I wake up and make this drink again, this time with green, Indonesian kratom powder- real caffeine.

Yeah, I still smoke good herbs, too. It’s still sad how we don’t stop.

Can sad be funny?—like your choosing the bottom shelf, plastic, Gallon of Evan Williams. Clinking ice in the glass, 10 AM, had the both of us feeling optimistic. We’d be cracking jokes, me trying to hug you. When I let you hit the joint just once, you became convinced that I’m a dude because you were crazy. You said, You can just tell me, I promise I won’t be mad.

[My mom keeps saying that I’m an alcoholic. I think that she’s just as bad as me, and should worry about herself while I worry about me.]

I love my favorite drink, and so did you. And anyone who loves a drinker

can tell you: second place is the place you take to the drink.

I liked second place. I didn’t want first place. I wouldn’t win first place. I wasn’t going for that. This was something unspeakable that needed to be. So in the beginning, I brought a Irish coffee to you at your job. We stood sipping them behind the moving truck.

I don’t love Irish Coffee, but it was my lie to you saying: you can drink with me. Which changed, naturally. If you die, we can’t drink together!?

I don’t know what I was going for. I didn’t care, I guess. It was stupid of me to marry you, and everyone knew it. You knew it. You did it for me, anyway. Tiny black diamond ring. Or was it for you? Afterwards, we clung to it, but marriage is a technicality afterall. And so is getting divorced.

4 or 5 years later (I try not to remember the year), To this morning, if I could, I would text you in the city Saying, WYD, HYD? With a decent picture of me going *cheers Title it, I still love you, babe.

There’s another Jason Noyes out there, a commercial photographer You were an artist, but a bastard and a drunk. That guy (who’s still alive) shoots things like stock footage for sale. Your photography was radically humiliating. It was porn (can porn be art?)

Of me and everyone else. And I hope all the film was destroyed when your family’s basement flooded. But if someone finds it, the better for the legacy you’d want. Your photography was sex, that’s what you made, that’s what you wanted to sell.

But I saw your childhood pictures in Baltimore. And that’s the kid I recognized in your smile. That’s who I believed in, not you per say. And not me, either. Being losers together was companionable, and I’ll always miss you, Jase.

Not your temper or your ignorance and ego, but your silliness, and humility, where we were both kids, trying to figure this sex thing out, or not Until basically I told you, Go Watch Porn or Something, Leave me alone and you did, thank you. Or you didn’t, thank you, for that, too. I don’t think I was any more gay than you. Maybe I am. Who cares, anyway?

And do you see Mitch Hedberg on the regular up there? Now amongst bad angels you play.

MAIN IDEAS

good main ideas for writing:

-This information is funny or amusing -This information is valuable and why -other people will get something out of this -compare and contrast somebody else’s ideas or different writers (grad school thesis type essay -Here’s why you shouldn’t do this or that -Here’s a perspective or angle that’s not really out there so far -Here’s a description of something I saw, tasted, *insert sensory -Here’s a troublesome concern -Ode to something I value -Ode to someone or group of people I value -Anything about animals

bad main ideas:

-ransome notes -Look how funny and smart I am -How everyone hates you and you’re worthless -Look how stupid this person or these people are -Look at how we’re *better in some way -You should be scared of this and worry about it, too -Why you should buy this thing or service that you don’t need -Why people don’t deserve welfare

wild dogs can’t be broken

I dreamed about a fairy dog who started as a kitten no leash, in the city I worry for her and pet her and she grows under my hands and eyes into a tall, lean afgan or russian grayhound. or a whippet, but undernourished, like a rescue but with airy, celestial hair (someone’s beloved)

The fairy dog was magical and as soon as it grew into young adult size (within a matter of 10 or so seconds), it bounded away from me, wildly. There were other small kittens and potential pets in the dream, And I’m all of them, Think how I crashed out and got fired last week I may be starved of care and nourishment, I may have been running a marathon for these kids in the orphanage showing up every day and not taking a break to pee I was chained up there to my salary and to profit-based non-profit rules and regulations, the first of which is, don’t show your humanity Don’t show your animal nature. That you need to rest or eat or that you’re scared or that something warrants flee, freeze, or fight or barking if nothing else, but not calmly continuing on like that bearing everything patiently, marching toward a dead end wall: salary dead end. “Oh get more degrees…”. No. Work harder in some way! No. Put in more time. No. Get 2 jobs.

no.

Who says no? The executive director of my personhood. We have retired from formally teaching students under 18. We didn’t quit because of the kids, though. But we won’t do it anymore.

I find myself humming around the house. Petting my pets for hours. Gazing at the wall, watching sunlight and shadows. Rent will always be due, and I could pay more than I’m worth for taking a few weeks on loan (but I do pay taxes, so UC was mine to begin with, or something)– It’s not fraud. I need food, housing, and health care to survive.

Even if I fucked up! Even if I crashed out! Even if I said things most adults would dread to yell, like a crazy case of tourette’s or something, I was shameless. Swearing at kids smfh.

It wasn’t all my fault though. to the bitches i left behind i wana say (you know) FUCK YOU BITCHES always on your damn phones fuck you guys couldn’t watch the kids for 10 minutes when i’m there i was doing too much angelic, insubstantial, skeletal

and that is what i’m done with psychologically, most of all. I’m ABOSLUTELY NOT AI. don’t want to be, never will be. Deal with humanity. Like the “New Deal” … make jobs and income… fuck. IT WOULD BE SO EASY FOR THEM, TOO. THE MONEY to improve our lives by 500% would be pennies to them. to the rich, of course. the ones who still think that they can make us like them. scare us enough. they never try another strategy.

they’re mud and we’re horses

Don’tcha know, I’m talking about a revolution! Sounds like a whisper. Poor people gonna rise up and take their share/take what’s theirs. (t.c.)

Meanwhile, Reasons to change professions: No one would hire me if I actually tell them what I said The job is too hard I’m not healthy doing this job (teaching) I hate America Barely making ends meet anyway

so then what!? I was in control for over a year, at least, of mostly good behavior not swearing or being rude to anyone. I did so much better with … what… surviving my teammates. Teammates. I tried. Over a year ago, I truly believed I could avoid this by trying harder. In the spring, something inside me changes. I turn unpredictable, I’m depressed, I’m nasty. I lose patience. I hate men. I hate working. I hate driving. I hate my boss. I hate my teammates. And apparently I hate my kids. DO all adults lose it with kids sometimes? Maybe so. But there are levels to what they say and do. And kids can remember it forever. I remember my parents getting mad at me. My parents were mad a lot, it seems Maybe all parents are. I’ve not been able to control my anger in the workplace in spring. Spring I’m like, fuck you. and fuck trump and every stupid patriarchal hierarchy fuck school and shit i stop giving afå but that lands me here. I’ve tried a lot of women’s work jobs. I hate them all. Receptionist wasn’t too bad, but I was rude there, too. Although, maybe all receptionists are secretly rude and hang up on people on a bad day? I had a really bad day, from the inside out, and from the outside in. The school is terrible. I’m glad to escape. Dreary depressing sick making place. Laurie says I should work from home, and she’s pretty smart. Maybe that’s it. Maybe even leaving to go places is exhausting. And gas… 5/gallon. My car: 2-3 years left on it, if I don’t bang it up more. No prospects look great.

CAREERS

Grocery store pros: can steal food, will have air conditioning in summer, close to home. Grocery store cons: hate being there already, especially the music on the overhead system. Also, I’m liable to go off on rude people, and people will be rude.

Bakery: still considering

Cleaning person: I’m too slow and you have to bring your own cleaning supplies and my hands will get fucked up (did it before)

Catering: I hate parties Food service, like prep cook: I’m slow, but it’s not ruled out Waitress: I have a bad short term memory and liable to cuss rude customers out (did it before) Work in store/shopper: I’m too slow, and it’s horrible (did it before) Laundry: stinky and doesn’t pay enough OSHA hazard Cleaning a hotel: same

Teaching: make the most money based on my skills, but probably get fired a year into the job (based on my job history so far). too stressful. dead end with no one appreciating the sacrifice. Teachers are hated, especially by their supervisors and often the parents.

Teaching is still on the table

What the fuck else is there????? These jobs aint shit! They are so hard and pay so little.

I can’t work a cash register, I tried that- keeping it balanced is impossible. I can’t do things fast. I can’t maintain silence when disrespected.

I wish I could just get ssi and try to live on it. So sick of needing references. Like, who can i beg to do this for me again Can I bribe someone

Gas station- too unsafe, too strssful, too many disrespectful people Construction- too loud and unsafe, also too hot

Home care aide- still on the table. Just kind of the hardest job in the world for like 15 dollars/hour pre-tax. Also a dead end.

Work at the dollar store- no for same reasons listed earlier.

Work for sanitation services- too dangerous and I’m not heathy enough. I’d fall off the back of the truck and no one ever hear from me again. That job is for big strong fearless dudes. Consequently, garbage collectors get killed at work more often than police officers. I read that fact somewhere.

Babysit- on the table, but it’s so boring and annoying and not paying much unless you drive far to rich neighborhoods.

Recruiter or Money Raiser- I’d rather eat knives

Walk dogs- doesn’t pay enough, too hard Caring for pets whose owners are away I hate other people’s houses I hate other people I don’t hate their cats though

What about scheduler for the hospital? It’s on the table, if I can do it from home.

Mover or packer- too hard, and aint shit if you don’t drive the truck.

Jerome ‘Rome’ turning out poorly

I saw he got outta prison, like a couple months ago, because he made a new music video. Well, I watched it, excited to see that he’s free, and not upstate any more. The video started out with booties, had the booties shakng all through it, like chicks professional twerkin, and like at a house party, with his friends and hookers. But it made me sad. Not on the booties. They probably captured the attention of at least most men who hypothetically watched this video, but I was trying to see Jerome.

You know, maybe he never was special. Maybe I liked him because i projected things onto him.

The video was such a bad look. Throughout the song, he kept a bunch of cash in one hand, and a joint in the other. His hair is like wild dread locks, all type of length and size. At the beginning, he wears glasses that are probably prison issue, but they look nice. Make him look smart. He wears a nice, white outfit, like a big puffy white/gray coat, like they filmed this in winter (despite all women wearing thongs and tank tops), in an empty apartment.

The thing that made me feel sad is, that he just looks like an actor. When one or two booties shaking on either side of him (they had him posed on a bad with big puffy coat and holding money while rapping, it looked ackward like in reality he was annoyed by those booties. The were bouncing and jostling him on the bed, and his energy moved away from the booty that shaked in his ears.

It was weird. I thought, that boy is gay, or just not into these type of girls. So, why does the whole video focus on them? They’re trying to act like… IDK… nothing with any value. Nothing alive. Sad day for rap and for Jerome.

Something didn’t fit, or did I imagine it. Did only I want Jerome to be something more than that. That’s why I sent him books in jail That’s why I went to see him That’s why I liked him but this video was terrible.

Seems like he wants to go the same way as Melly, or Xtentacion, or worse, Von from the O block. I wish I could get my books back though. I sent him 3 books through Barnes and Noble (like the prison demands) of franz fanon, paperback, by first class. And those books disappeared into an abyss with no receipt. And I got taken off the approved visitors’ list.

Then they moved him upstate. But I’m still happy that he’s out. It’s terrible to think of life without comfort, art, quality food, nature, clean facilities, freedom to plan your life, no access to paper or pencils except through prison store alongside that cup of noodles. Seems like Romero (Jerome) jumped right back into the gang life, though. Probably won’t be long out here rolling like that, damn. Liked his underbite-smile and punky attitude.

one of the reason I liked working with criminal kids is because it’s a heart to heart. i understand the rage, and i can be your leader. telling them i can manage mine, until i can’t. ah dammit, some trash came out.

i don’t know why i’m a sociopath. i just know that there’s this weird line. on one side, people who would NEVER do or say X, Y, and Z. and then there’s us, on the other side, whose ears perk up. i’m interested in the things that can’t be said or done. i won’t resist saying and doing it. because of this nihilism and this parody and boredom and irony and suicidal tendencies. i hope somebody says and does it, the undoable, the unsayable. if you do it, if you say it, i’ll laugh, i’ll still love you. so few things make my face go seriously still.

i want to tell you about how my boss is shitty, (it’s their #1 duty, to BE shitty, GREAT JOB, BOSS. you want your boss to be trustworthy WE’RE A FAMILY HERE, HEH HEH HEH if it’s a woman, they really believe it: the family crap if it’s a white woman, she wants to relieve her anxiety so help her or suffer her punishments, her burdens, her rot

she’s pale, she’s weak, she’s in charge. she’s smart, but she’s blinded with bias toward justifying herself. for white women, it’s their feelings versus real thoughts, and if they win, you lose. in their world, anyway.

And she’s feeling angry and self-righteous, warm and liberal How could she and she’ll be sorry and I draw a line right there, you’re outta here, (to me) I’m out I crashed

Her, she’s like most petty tyrants, fancies herself a martyr. Husband doesn’t love her. Son can’t wait to leave her. And she can’t wait for them to leave. So that things can be orderly and proper. And so that people will thank her for holding up the illusion.

A prayer to let me change profession to change my being and existence to something else bread

To give up my degree and experience and walk away feels 30% great

20% sad

but mostly inevitable

to celebrate i’m steady drinking a cocktail with kratom that’s bad i know but the 20% sad is incredibly menacing

i don’t do sad, it’s not safe for me need to keep head up, kopf hoch (german) i want to do a craft, a service that’s needed i want to do women’s work and survive on it

i don’t want to teach in capitalism i present myself, chewed up, spit out like a hairball, or a tonsil lolith stinky, calcium deposits, suicides i don’t want to do it anymore

so i’m just sitting here waiting for them to call and fire me while getting tipsy and high because i intend to not degrade myself with self pity i plan to soldier forward and forgive myself facts i did my best in their world nothing more you can do than that i apologized for my anger to the kids that’s the most i could do, after the fact but no more teaching, while teammates judge me i’ll hermit as much as i can from now on the kids are going to psych wards and prison either way i was just a sometimes sunny dot in there world, but then also a scary dot in their world. i admit it. i retire. i can’t stay calm in some circumstances, like when i’m sick and they’re understaffed, i can’t do it for sure 100% i might crash out again and honestly that’s par for the course, so hopefully everyone forgives me for it. that’s not the real me.

No Place Like Home

Well, I think I’m going to be fired soon, for real. People reported the details of a couple crash-outs, and me being a bitch to kids, or sharp toned. Who knows what all they complained about. Maybe I wasn’t doing a good enough job. But it was my best! Doh!!!

So wth am I going to do? First of all, find a new type of job, but what kind? Would it be possible, one that’s easier for more money? I think I tried teaching enough. But I also got in trouble at other (corporate) types of jobs for being myself. There’s no job like home.

So, there goes that. This is a hard time of year for me, like my mom said. She’s right. It is. I don’t know why. I’ve crashed out at several jobs at this time of year. At least I turned in good reports for them before they let me go. Hopefully they’ll still give me some kind of job reference. Like, hypothetically I’m still fit for other types of jobs, right? What kind, even? I’ve always been desperate, not chosey. I take the first one offered, and settle in a couple weeks after spending 1.5 years at a place, on average. I knew this was would go bad, though. I’m not what people want in a teacher. I’m just a person who’s barely surviving the psychic reality of 2006. Or the physical one. But I was showing up with shit for them to do, and interacting with them all day.

I guess we’ll see. :/