Preamble
Welp. Another 50k later, and here were are. Michael Saylor would say, don’t spend your sats, but what does he know about me, anyway?
It’s fun, Michael, spending you sats this way. You oughtta try it.
On the Territory Front: Updates
Wow! Today ~the_stacker_muse moved to #1 in today’s
top (thanks for the great post @Siggy47), and #8 on the monthly. I wish I could say were are in the black, but we are not, and this is still quite costly endeavour. However, I did my best to zap all your memoirs generously, though it may slant @simplestacker’s research.In short, all of you are great. Thanks for all the beauty and inspiration this month.
Last thing, territory posts are on discount until further notice, so post away!
Poetry
A finely honed razor moon
A finely honed razor moon floats white in the sky, roots of doubt burrow into the earth. An illusion where the hand fails to touch objects close by, yet brushes what is out of reach. That's TV PEOPLE That's TV PEOPLE That's tv people
A Happy Vicar I Might Have Been
Poem by George Orwell
[...] I am the worm who never turned, The eunuch without a harem; Between the priest and the commissar I walk like Eugene Aram; And the commissar is telling my fortune While the radio plays, But the priest has promised an Austin Seven, For Duggie always pays. I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls, And woke to find it true; I wasn’t born for an age like this; Was Smith? Was Jones? Were you? 2
Man Made of Meat
Song by Viagra Boys
I'm subscribed to your mom's OnlyFans I spent five bucks a month to get pictures of her flappy giblets And I spent another ten dollars a month to chat with her on the AI chat program It feels great I don't wanna pay for anything Clothes and food and drugs for free If it was 1970 I'd have a job at a factory I am a man that's made of meat You're on the internet looking at feet I hate almost everything that I see And I just wanna disappear Yeah3
Non-Fiction
My final post (April 2011) reads as follows.
“Hi all, I have decided to move on from my position in advertising to bigger and better things. Essentially, I wanted to halt my progress towards becoming a fully blown media wanker.”
Then I logged off and went to live in Buenos Aires.
When I slipped, the corner of the plate hit the scaffolding I was previously standing on. About an inch of it. It was enough time for the two divers inside the containment to grab the parts still exposed to them and prevent me and the 90-pound metal rectangle from disappearing into the depths.
[...] we would dive alone, untethered to anything or anyone, only being attached to our water taxi by holding the pneumatic airbrush that we used to clean. The brushes were pretty fun to use. They were big. As you held onto it, air would blow in such a way to both spin the brush but also suck itself into the hull of the ship. It would also propel you forward so you could just hold on, squeeze the trigger, and allow it to drive you all around the ship like a snail leaving a slime trail. Except we were removing slime.
So he left Cuba with his wife and a small child in his arms. He left family, memories, and the false comfort of the familiar to head for the unknown, to face the world from a different perspective.
For a while, I saw myself as something of a failure. My friends from grad school were getting tenure or promoted and moving up the ladder, whereas it seemed like I was the only one moving downwards.
But the new job came with some hidden blessings.
I've been leaning towards the depressive side my whole adult life. I've also been a creative spirit and somewhat of a non-conformist - I've always wanted to be an artist, never liked school, never wanted to be a 9-5 wage slave, you know the drill. Now, I've been investing in myself and my ideas for the past 6 years or so, 3 years more aggressively...
The Tesla would be challenged. Of that I had no doubt. If we survived the first part of the journey, we would be rewarded with a crawl through the carbon monoxide filled Midtown Tunnel. There was a time, decades ago, when I would notice a lane closure on the roadway approaching the tunnel. Now, lanes seem permanently closed, even though those temporary plastic cones would have us believe otherwise. Once through the tunnel, we could enjoy a slow, gridlocked crawl down to Greenwich Village.
I climbed into the back seat. ...
Fiction
Three billion human lives ended on August 29th, 2027. Llama 7.3 poisoned almost every municipal water supply on Earth. Over the next two years, all the complex systems supporting human civilization were turned against us. We died like flies. There were barely any of us left.
Monthly Feature
Until now was just digging and putting earthbags as walls. But now was the time for the structure, the roof with its heavy beams, the resistance points, the heavy rocks wall. Each step was well calculated, not just for not making structure mistakes, but most importantly to not have any fatal accident. Remember I was working alone in a remote place...
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That's all for now,
billy