Blocking language

This was a note but now it’s a post you freaks

*If anyone from my place of employment is reading this, know that it is not a critique of you and the work you do or we do or our relationship at work or even the bosses at our location or EVEN the owners of the franchise (they throw us appreciation parties afterall). This is more to criticize the structural reality of running a business under neoliberalism and also to give an insight to any of my subscribers who are spared the experience of having their time and energy exploited laboring to extract profits for others in such a raw physical manner. I love everyone I work with and all I kno is physical work with my history.

….and also I’m just kidding.

It‘s crazy the experience losing subscribers when I don’t produce written content due to writers block and mental health issues.

I guess I don’t really care all that much. If anything there’s a twinge of hurt at having what is essentially a direct one to one communique of my internal, psychic experience as an actually-existing-subject be rejected, but that momentary murmur of wounded narcissism lasts only for half of half of a second because i don’t know these fucking people they’re just little images on a screen. For all I know you’re all CCP sex-bots (hey, a girl guy can dream).

Plus I don’t rely on this for income.

Which isn’t to say of course that I wouldn’t mind relying on this thing of ours being my primary tool in the game of “Keep TRASH alive”. This immersive gaming experience i’ve been coerced into, set in the marketplace of all against all and where each player’s character is a dog and the goal is to eat as many other dogs as possible under the watchful eye of some mods accountable only to one another (which allegedly involves some disgusting, demonic ritual accountability process where they do stuff to kids on islands, eh? Like you-know-who….the Monopoly Man).

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Because a big part of why im not writing is probably cuz of the total physical exhaustion from the rank exploitation of my labor.

[editorial note: I shouldn’t feel frightened to express my grievances regarding work in a public setting. There’s labor laws, right?

The National Labor Relations Board, yea?

This is America, no?]

Exploitation which as an independent actor on the market I’m aware the organization that I’m in a contractual agreement with are compelled to engage in. In terms of bottom line, it’s just cheaper to run thru workers in positions that can be trained in a day or two their specific spin on a food service operation under capital. The basic formula being that they have us transform the raw ingredients they purchase cheaply into the new commodity of meals whose list price is astronomically higher. And doing this with as few of us as is possible, with labor being of course much more expensive than tomatoes and dough or the electric bill, so that it’s obviously cheaper to simply replace the burned out husk of cook than to take on another one, that’s simple arithmetic. That they’re actual people with lives and aspirations doesn’t really apply to generating surplus value and the continued circulation and growth of capital.

But ya know volume and scale yadda yadda yadda.

Commie commie commie

If they’re not growing (ie generating profit) then they’re dying, something we used to say at Cut Cats Courier (the courier collective in Chicago i was a member and part owner of for three years).

It’s a delicious little nugget of what I’m pretty sure could be called irony (could it?) that my experience as a part- owner of what technically counts as a limited liability corporation; with my name listed as a legal owner of what little we had in terms of “means of production” (an office space in Lakeview, a couple two-tree cargo bikes in da loop, and then the radios….) with all of us being that weird mish-mash of high-end cycling gear and dental-floss punk-patches that is the midwest bicycle messenger and our posturing as anti-capitalists; a bunch of subculture jocks proclaiming a confusion of anarcho-marxist views understood secondhand—that this should give me my most functional understanding of the mindset required to succeed on the market.

(Reading László Krasznahorkai lately)

I was on the client relation subcommittee at one point and the mindset was, had to be, cut throat. And while compared to an acquisitions guy at a private equity firm it was pretty low stakes, the idea was to always be working on getting more and more clients. We would say “if we’re not growing, we’re dying”.

Which what does that remind you of?

Starts with a C and ends with apitalism.

And this mindset of “go, go, go take everything you fucking can” has to be there on some level for every business owner under neoliberalism. Even if its this barley perceptible, sub-audible, glacially slow whisper they can pretned to ignore thanks to the material conditions keeping the ma & pa general store in Bum-Fuck, Nowhere, U.S. of A. (my hometown) it’s still there, bubbling in the unconscious like some dark, primordial ooze….

…oh wait no Mr & Ms Bum-Fuck closed up shop after They built that Walmart supercenter in town.

(“Then the Bum-Fucks took off in their RV after they lost their son to fentanyl last year, you didn’t hear?!”¹

All that stuff about cycling (eh?) thru the least amount of workers as possible for the sake of the bottom line was just a joke I was kidding and you can’t fire me for this…yet…this is Trump’s techno-libertarian free market America

….but so anyways i’m writing today which feels good. Was actually working on some fiction but then i wrote this thing i’m scared to post butas Mario sez here we gooo….

Pre-posting addendum :

So about 8-9 months ago I started hanging out every now and then with this older neighbor lady of mine named T here in the hood. She’s very nice and would help me out if I needed anything (cuz I’m a tortured starving something….i’m not sure what) and occasionally i’d sit with her for an hour two once a week or every other.

Anyways she’s dying from cirrhosis in that apartment i’m pretty sure. I hung out and helped her with stuff around the place today—dishes, cat box etc—for most of the day. Rode to the store for her despite the severe heat warning. However, after a while i needed to get back to my place to do some things and she seemed fine, up and about and talking. Plus someone else in the building was to come and check on her in a short amount of time.

So then just now i stepped out for a cig only to have another tenet helping out that they took her to the er because they thought she was dead but apparently she’s back now …

She’s a friend. Not one that i’ve known all long or that i intended on making or who i have all that much in common with—but a friend nonetheless.

So that’s a bummer

1. Should write a story about how they the Bum-Fuck’s Winnebago abandoned deep in some National Park or something….