Life feels like a constant battle to claw back time. We’re given at most a century to work with. Most of us are working with less, either from lifestyle or poor genetics, and no one is guaranteed exclusion from accidents no matter how safe they are.

There are so many agents stealing our time from us, too. We have sleep as a major thief, mercilessly grifting a third of our lives as a standard. Then you have the requirement of lodging and food, which in our current social structure means we’re dedicating another third of our lives to just having enough money to afford essentials such as clothing and a home. So we’re down to having a third of our lives to dedicate to all extraneous pursuits, like love, happiness, or virtually anything outside of the mundane garbage of baseline “existing”.

I’m sitting here, contemplating what exactly I need to write. I need to write. I need to sort things and explain things and produce things, I need my mind to bear fruit. I’m just at an impasse with what the hell I need to say. I do sometimes feel like I’ve already said everything, but I’m also keenly aware of the fact that my life is nowhere near any sort of end. It’s already far too soon to say I have no words left to write. I suppose this post itself stands as antithesis to the entire concept. It’s kind of a nothing-burger of a post, but it’s still written word. It’s still conveying an idea, or an absence of ideas. It’s a conveyance, to say the least.

It’s cold outside again. Especially here in the rust belt, where the weather is dumb as shit. Man, I’m really just goddamned exhausted. Does this capitalism thing ever slow the fuck down? I’m feeling pretty tired. I think it’s time for it to slow the fuck down.

I’m glad that I have this space to throw down anything I feel like saying. I’m grateful that I’ve eked out such a space for myself.

I keep thinking about Putin’s threats to use nuclear weapons, and how it sets us back fifty years. This fascist moron seriously thinks clinging desperately to power is a good strategy, which I guess makes sense for a former KGB agent. God knows the intelligence community is batshit insane. It doesn’t matter if they’re CIA, NSA, MI-6, KGB, everyone in the intelligence community is a fucking psychopath. It’s a requirement for service, in case you didn’t know.

I feel so oblivious right now. I’ve been feeling the strain from all the business travel I’ve been doing for the year, but I guess I’ve only been feeling without realizing just how insane it’s been. Point in fact, I’ve been going hard since February, apparently. I only know this because I went back and checked records. But my work travel has been much higher than it’s ever supposed to have been. I feel the physical and emotional exhaustion from it, but the actual realization didn’t actually sink in until I had the data in front of me.

In my travails across the internet, I’ve stumbled upon quite a few interesting true crime stories, and truly some of the most depraved acts one human can commit against another human.

But this post is different. This post isn’t about a sociopathic murderer. This post is about a sociopathic accomplice to murder who was given the name “David Cash” at birth. In 1998, David Cash watched his friend Jeremy Strohmeyer rape and murder seven year old Sherrice Iverson. This human waste has made public statements such as “I don’t feel there is much I could have done differently” and “I’m no idiot, I’ll (expletive) get my money out of this.”

I spent the last couple days in Indiana for a family event. The event itself was nice, but it’s impossible to dive into any part of the state of Indiana and ignore the depressing environs engulfing you. The religious zealots have set aside Indiana as one of their “safe spaces”. It’s acceptable to be a hypocritical piece of shit in Indiana, if not encouraged. Now, I won’t say all hoosiers, because generalizations aren’t my thing. However, it can readily be ascribed to Trumpers. That’s just fucking reality. Trumpers are trash. Why are they trash? Because it’s a fucking choice. You choose to be a good person, or you choose to be garbage. Trumpers have chose to be garbage. That’s just how it is, and it’s not a generalization.

I’ve been thinking about my fake Christian family a good amount recently. They embody what the MAGA movement means nearly to the finest detail. They’re poor, anti-intellectual, uneducated, faux-spiritual, fake ass, deceptive, and a wholly unreliable lot.

I’m not so much talking about my mom’s side of my family, but my dad’s side of my family. They’re the faux Christians who want to judge everyone and not be judged. The people who are furthest from “Christ-like” yet are loudest about how much they love Jesus. The liars, the unrepentant, the corrupt. They’re also the “gay-hating MAGA” types, and they’re awful people.