12~Should government let people starve?
We arrived to the lunch place too late for food.
As I explained to another street-dude there, this is one of the difficulties of living this way: far-apart sites with narrow operating hours. Day shelters with open food banks are much more supportive. He told me there’d be food being passed out at the train station at 6 and we both went onward into the streets. I soon found some garbage that had been torn into with lots of Bread pouring out that was mostly ruined by rain, except for two Sandwiches sealed tightly in plastic. They both had Turkey and Butter on them which I fed to Ryger who enjoyed it all. I found a bit of still-good Brie Cheese in another soggy roll, and as Ryger had had enough dairy from the Butter, I enjoyed that with the top of the Bread that had had turkey on it.
“Looking for a change in your life”
I am a vegetarian; I will starve for weeks before I ever even think to eat the flesh of an animal, but I try not to worry about molecules. Some of the body of a murdered turkey had touched this Bread I found. My dog ate the turkey because that’s what dogs do. I ate the Bread because that’s what I do. This is how we both Survive; so I don’t worry about the molecules.
I also found some little Donuts at the bottom of a bag that were clean and only a tiny bit soggy. I ate two, but I’m not really a fan of Donuts, and they’re unhealthy and heavy, so I placed the bag at the top so another could forage it. As I gathered Ryger to leave, a man appeared and started looking at the trash, whom I directed to the Donuts. He thanked me and left with them, which I thought was pretty funny.
We then headed to the library where I charged my computer within, then sat outside with Ryger instead of leaving him alone and did some writing.
Aside from a few people, no one seems to be reading my writings.
Most people following me were lost through the unending afore-tiraded tragedies, but once I went political, that lost everyone else, besides the few that seem to really care.
And those people, who I care about as well, do uplift me!
{My long-time fans and friends and fam should All Just Know, I am Grateful for You and I haven’t forgotten You and remembering that you looked up to me, even if only once and you don’t anymore, gives me Strength to keep Striving and doing my best in this World}.
Armored Core - THE MAN WHO PASSED THE TORCH
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But it’s not about popularity, it’s about making a difference.
I felt ahead of the curve, on this one. Their nefarious “project 2025” spills it all out–but people either couldn’t figure out themselves how terrible and serious the situation is or didn’t bother to research it, and the people and writers like me trying to warn of what was and is still happening just got lost in the noise of it all. So it only added a sense of powerlessness, watching my country decline as I write extensively of what we should do, to no avail. Adding to the powerlessness I already feel regarding the women I Loved who were lost to me, AND being trapped from moving on from those tragedies — honestly, it’s all unbearable (and I don’t even care that I’m a social outcast!) I hyperfixate and can’t stop, drowning in negativity. Sometimes I honestly feel like I’m dying. Writing feels proactive, but then no one reads, nor has it ever attracted a single lady, so I feel doubly discouraged.
“Play different”
I’m kind of smart, right?
I can objectively see that my writing is better than some various articles I’ve read (not including this dribble of a book you now read). I can objectively see that I’m better than the foolish arrogant tyrants in authority,
And yet I can’t have an effect on the Real World, nor my own sliver of success (if only my book was better!)
All my extensive writing has done was out me as a dissident, to be rounded up in time, as the insane cackling of the maga cultists cheer on my imprisonment/murder with the other TDS patients.
And being put in one of their camps now with this BrokenHeart and these issues would kill me, if they didn’t just shoot me when I run/resist. And there’s no doubt that they’d kill Ryger…
Being separated from Ryger would tear my soul, and being incarcerated indefinitely would chop down my chances of finding the Fulfilling Love I Need as I age and waste away.
I should have stayed quiet, pretended to change sides even, and tried to get close to one of these bastards to assassinate them. Well, that would end my life just the same, but at least I’d have accomplished something, right? At least I’d have FOUGHT BACK and made a difference, right?
Actually what is really needed are people to get on their side and get photos of their human rights abuses that they won’t let the senators and congressionals nor anyone see.
These people are being TORTURED and everyone knows it but no one is willing to do what it takes to stop them. To be fair, they have lots of guns and will kill you, but if Militias were formed like I’d been calling for from the beginning then we’d have lots of guns, too, and at least wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Anyways,
my computer ran out of batteries so I went inside the library to keep working, keeping an eye on Ryger from the window who waited patiently and napped by the backpack under the Stained Glass umbrella. I admittedly also needed a break from the wet cold–I passed out more than once at the desk I was at–Ryger could handle it, though I wish he could come in the library with me and was sad he could not. A local gave me some Cookies and Bread to snack on and I did some more writing on my charging computer which helped me stay awake.
Online, I made a couple posts, upping Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez
(there’s no evidence of any corruption against AOC, but rather many videos of her crushing the lying regime in Congress on the daily; so she’s clearly and absolutely one of the best leaders we have right now–duh) and trying to get people to read Heather Cox Richardson.
Both these amazing women are True modern day USAmerican Heroes fighting the corrupted regime (HCR with her daily factual reports, and so millions of people have learned the Truth of what has happened and is happening).
My computer charged, the rain picked up and I noticed it was almost 7, so I hurriedly packed up my things, ran outside to a screaming Ryger (he always screams when he hasn’t seen me in more than 15 minutes) lifted my Stained Glass umbrella, and walked not far to the station.
We’d missed the food, again.
Oh well.
But my back already hurt, so I went into the station to rest. A nice guy handed me half his bag of Potato Chips. Before I even got the chance to sit and eat them, though, security was on me like flies on dung
(I don’t think I’m shit; but I look and feel like shit, so…)
to inform me that it “is not possible” to put my bags on the ground.
‘Where should I put them, then?’ was not understood, and I didn’t even bother pointing out that the rule is classist and only in place to harass people that they think are dung
so I told him I’d leave and he walked off
but I ate half the bag of Potato Chips first.
I don’t really even like P.Chips…
