Withering Pressure

To Examiner: I was going to try to hang on until I found a new position, but your automated management is contradictory and doesn't foster supportive relationships between disadvantaged contributors and your editorial staff. I am a quadriplegic with spastic cerebral palsy, and I've busted my ass for your aggregating demands for next to nothing. As I see little hope of advancement, fuck you, and fuck your parent company in Denver. This means I quit, affectionately.-- my sentiments exactly


And that is that, except for the fact that Examiner, being a digital tabloid, will probably keep my yahoo address on its rolls for a time: I cannot feel too badly, as receiving 10 dollars for over 12,000 words in 9 months signifies I am almost better off writing for nothing, looking at all the labor I've put into it. (Thus far, I am indeed still logged in to my page, we'll see.)

As happens to most Presbyterian tenants, my family is pressuring me on one hand while Trudy Richardson barks her thus far empty threats on the other, but Marie's sentiments that "I'll wind up on the street" are vacuous, simply by default. The corporate office may move for eviction before I find a lawyer, I can't say one way or the other, but the city would do what the company doesn't have the authority to do: reinstitutionalize me in the event of notice of intent, but I told Marie, as she continues to divest herself of her internal organs, that I can't live with what has been done to me anymore. whether it portends destruction or a new path for my remaining viability. I've learned how to surf, using the 5c, in my floundering absence, and realize how disconnected the devices leave us, despite content convenience. Scrolling my posts on a Mac safari is one thing: Offering me a way out of our merciless safety net is another. I understand. I have to fend for myself. I do regret, a little, losing my reviewer status. Evaluating books isn't that bad a task, but Clarity Media's model is notoriously bad.