I bet you were starting to wonder when I was going to write something.
The world is my playground. That’s my motto for 2019.
The rage puking on the Troll Scroll and dead journalism products is boring me. So is all of the garbage the various governments are dumping on people in their never-ending bullshit strategy of using fear-mongering and moral masturbation to get compliance for lunatic ideas that are unworkable, but are just greed and pity scams to make loser politicians rich. Nice try, motherfuckers, I am not buying the bullshit the you assholes are selling.
I am not playing by rules. The world is my playground, and I am going to be playing.
I am watching towers burning and emperors wearing no clothes. If people were in a rational and skeptical frame of mind, they would be pissing their pants laughing at all of this insanity. People fighting on Facebook about stuff they know nothing about, making grifters rich and powerful. What the fuck is wrong with people?
They jumped on a hamster wheel and now do not know how to get off.
You know, I had a very bad year for most of it, but the last couple of months were a huge turnaround. Not everything is where it should be, but it isn’t where it was in April when everything just took a turn for the worst (no, not worse). It is not as if I had some easy time of it before. The last few years were terrible for me, having to look full-time after someone so sick and helpless, with those responsible for that trauma getting unchallenged praise on the front page of a newspaper — but those same praisers also had wonderful words for criminals as well.
So we know how much their praise is worth. I believe that currency is called bupkes.
Yes, I noticed, and yes, it is on the record here as well.
But I survived the last few years that most people don’t go through in a single lifetime.
So now that the wheel of fortune is spinning differently for me, at least I know it isn’t a hamster wheel I am riding on because I am getting somewhere.
I am not in a flock, nor I am following a script. I am not going in circles or looking downwards or behind me, let alone getting moved as a pawn by others on some rigged board. Fuck that shit.
You know, during the lowest part of it, I still wrote. I wrote fiction and nonfiction. I still maintained a sense of humour. Ted Kord would be proud of me.
Because the world is my playground. It is not my prison. It will become my paradise.
So you petty little motherfuckers have been warned.
This world was not made for hurting, but helping.
It was not made for competition, but cooperation.
And if I can crawl out of a place worse than Hell and be that energetic and perky, you know what I am made of.
My dreams will not be delayed or put on hold for another second. Nuh-huh, forget it. The world is my playground, my laboratory, my stage, my classroom, my muse, my paradise, my friend, my family, my home, and my blessing and miracle.
But mostly my playground.
And the game is a version of Find the Lady.
It has its own name, too…