Walmart and the Screams of the Hopeless

"Don't bury me, I'm not dead,"
--The Serpent and the Rainbow

I've been busy watching what's going on, or rather, not going on with my latest contribution to the fiction world. I've been watching it in much the same fashion as a spectator watches a train wreck with all the carnage that watching such a thing entails. I feel as insignificant as I am supposed to feel, and, for awhile, I felt the desperation that comes with that carefully engineered insignificance.

I'm hurting, dawg, just the way I'm supposed to. Congratulations to those who are working overtime to see that the pain stays. You've done a wonderful job, and I tip my hat to your efforts. For me, that book is a message about what love is. It's a worthwhile message and one that needs to be heard. It is my sincere hope that someone who needs to hear it, hears it, despite what's going on with me.


The world is like Walmart. Walmart employs thousands upon thousands of people. Walmart is a multi-billion dollar corporation. The workers are like zombies. They are used to make the machine that is Walmart work. They are wage slaves--working eight hour days plus and making minimum pay. Walmart is a prime example of how the rich get richer and the poor just keep getting poorer.

The poor are taught to work hard, and be proud of very little. They are taught to take pride in what a rich man would kill himself for. When the stock market crashed during the Depression, people with wealth jumped out of skyscraper windows at the prospect of being reduced to poverty. Yet, the poor are taught that working their fingers to the bone has some merit in it. It'd be funny if it wasn't so disgustingly sad.

Recently, a Walmart was caught running a food drive for its workers for Thanksgiving. Customers were asked to put a little something in the charity box for people who work hard every day. I've read different perspectives as to what my fellow human beings thought of this act of 'charity'. Most said, that it was not up to the company to provide better for its workers. This is a capitalist society, and the company is supposed to spend as little as possible in order to make the most profit. There are the few that rage against the machine and this line of thinking, but for the most part, the capitalist answer is the one that stands.

In America, everyone dreams of being rich someday, even the poorest of the poor. We are completely individualized. "I" and "me" rule us. The capitalist answer to the question of why Walmart is allowed to treat its workers so poorly is a simple one for "I" and "me". One day, if "I" work hard enough, "I" will benefit from what Walmart is benefiting from now. One day "I" will be a superior being, and the masses will tremble before "me".

It's a sad and sorry state of affairs, really. Rich vs. Poor. White vs. Black. Straight vs. Gay. Walmart vs. Humanity.

Humanity is losing in favor of the big payout in the end that's only going to happen for a very few people in reality. Those few will be the tyrannical overlords who control all the rest. And everyone is hoping, working, sweating for a tyrannic overlord button.  Soooo... "fuck the Walmart workers, they should get better jobs with their broke asses".


Every once in a great while, among the bullshit that gets published, I find a book worthy of reviewing. I've found such a book. If the author allows it, I'll review it here next time I post.

And the Song of the Day is:

Queen's, Somebody to Love



I am almost done with the first chapter of Jeff the Killer X Ben Drowned. It has a working title, but I might change it during the course of the day, so I'll refrain from giving it now.

I will never be able to express how much I love fanfiction. It is the most anti-Industry thing I have found. There is freedom in it, and while the gain is most certainly not monetary, there is equal value in being recognized by the people that read you and being loved by them. Their reviews are from the heart, and, even if they don't like something--that's from the heart too. I've gotten offers for all kinds of crazy smex in my fanfiction accounts. While all of that is something that doesn't really interest me, there's something truly wonderful in those offers as well.

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In all honestly, I think that fantiction saved my life, and preserved what little is left of my sanity. It allowed me to create and the connect with readers on a level I've never been able to connect while doing...this. When I first went into it, it was because of a picture of a beautiful man who I did not recognize. There was a call to play that man and I was told that the picture was Gackt, and Gackt needed to be a vampire. The character was hard to play correctly and had a whole bunch of traits that needed to be adhered to in order to successfully represent him. 

It was a challenge I couldn't pass up, and one I was very good at. Gackt the Vampire liked beautiful men:) I rose to that challenge, met it, and conquered it. After that, I started listening to the people around me and how they wanted this story and that story and missed this character or that character wasn't represented well, and a fanfiction writer was born. I couldn't pass up that kind of needy lust. I became whomever they needed me to become. 


I read something recently that some very thoughtful authors put up on Twitter about self-publishing and how truly hard it is. There was a list of qualifications as to whether you'd be a good self-publisher or not. I doubt they'll ever see this, or know that I feel this way, but I appreciated the posts. It, at least, showed me that bitching and crying was pointless, and that I am not as alone as I think I am. 

I never thought self publishing was going to be easier. It was an act of sheer desperation on my part. I don't really have the money, and I most certainly have the feeling that I am wasting my life attempting to be something that is truly beyond me--like stars or something. And, yet, I did feel it was my responsibility to put that book out there. And it is my responsibility to put the others I have in line out as well. There isn't enough love in this world. It's that fucking simple. 

Then again, I've been told that my stories were porn. Soooo...my concept of love might be a little fucked



Messing with Jeff and Ben requires intimate knowledge of not one main character but two--who happen to be all kinds of crazy. The good thing is, thus far, they are getting along, and are rather mesmerized by one another. That's ... sexy


Btw, WTF Youtube? Don't you know I like to berate people in my account and ghost champion my various causes? You think I want to put my legit name on all that abuse? <.<


Introverts and Extroverts

I came across some interesting thoughts on the difference between introverts and extroverts. I've always felt these things, but it was good to see it displayed for the entire world. As an introverted person, I have a severe disability in dealing with people that I don't trust totally. I think too much. I ponder questions that others give answers to easily, and the world, as it is, doesn't make sense to me. This has always been the case and this is why I create worlds.

Racism doesn't make sense to me except on an economic level which allows one group to have more and do more than the other by right of birth. For economic reasons, racism makes a certain malevolent, self-serving, kind of sense. Being against homosexuality, doesn't make sense to me. I can find no legitimate reason for knocking the ability of one person to love another consenting adult if they chose to. Sexism doesn't make sense either, but on the other side of that feminism has risen to something that is borderline insane. Shunning the homeless and treating them like...less. Not feeding starving people because they're "lazy". Not educating the poor in the hopes of creating a better world for all. Etc., Etc., Etc.

I've turned these things inside out and sideways, and have come to the conclusion that I do not have to take any of these thing personally simply because they are outside of my own general makeup. These things exist outside of me, and I am content to leave them there.

I have people in my life who subscribe to all these common 'hatreds'. I have never and will never understand them in a way that goes beyond anything but speculation as to the source of why people feel this way. Some people say, for example, that racism is instinctual, because of the difference in look. I call bullshit on that one. I don't know the "real" answer, but I'm fairly certain that's not it. I'm leaning toward the economic division as the most true. In order for some people to be on top some people have to be on the bottom, and they must be made to understand that their place is the bottom and to be relatively content down there. Racism.

I found this news article on the blog of a man who has a bunch of degrees, writes beautifully, and with a style that immediately commands attention---and lives in a homeless shelter, happy to get a coat for the harsh weather. I found him utterly fascinating and read his entire blog in one day. I think like that person. The sad thing is, this is not the way to think if you want to make it in this world. I see visions of homeless shelters in my future. Emotional homeless shelters, definitely. Physical ones are extremely likely. It's like living in Bizarro World, people. For me, it's opposite day all the time.

When I chose to write my own book, when that book was the thing I wanted to write and not what someone was telling me to write or what someone else thought I should be writing, you can easily see what I chose to put out on my own.

The longer I'm at it, though, the more I realize that I wrote that one for me. And I am in it. While I struggle around and fight the system for a place for my true voice to be heard, I am no longer shocked by the cruel reaction I get. You're either part of the system or you're not, and if you're not part of the system, you are rather reviled. By everyone. So be it.

I've had my money taken. I've been kicked off lists I've earned the right to be on. I've had shitty reviews written with malice of intent for beautiful books and I don't really exist...

...I am a compilation of accepted writers writing under a pseudonym...

...I'm stuck up and "uppity" and don't know my place...

...I'm confusing except when I'm writing for someone else and they're getting paid off my dreams...

...I am...

....whatever you say...

...I am...

...If I wasn't, then why would you say I am?

That said, here's the video on Introverts vs. Extroverts. It's worth watching:

Also, I'm writing some Jeff the Killer X Ben Drowned for NaNo (maybe for NaNo). I'm looking forward to all the sex and text murder. This replaces the Dracula story for something I'm doing on the side. If you look for it, you'll be able to find it in a couple of days.