Alexander Gordon Jahans
I keep getting assurances that somehow it’ll be okay and somehow there’ll be the money to support me if I can’t do universal credit and the disability proves a crap shoot. I am assured that everything is okay. These assurances give me about as much confidence as the phrase “size doesn’t matter”. I’d almost prefer the bald truth because at least I could work with that information. Unfortunately if there’s so much as a 0.0001% chance of survival your loved ones are of course going to do everything to see you make that slim chance. Meaning I am encouraged to waste slim resources in my time left flailing pointlessly at a task because maybe if I get very very lucky I might thread the needle and limp on.
I have GHD. That means tiredness and pain as fucking standard. Even if I wasn’t staring down the barrel of a poverty enforced death sentence I might be inclined to off myself. Especially as people with GHD apparrently have a shortened life span but there really aren’t many specifics so for all I know I’ll be lucky if I make it to thirty or the average could be just 5 years shorter than the average. Even in grand socialist utopia I’d still wake up with a vague death sentence hanging over my head and pain and tiredness as standard.
Oh and yeah, I have nazi stalkers, still. So that’s fun. Playing whack-a-nazi every time someone creates an alt to slip through my wall. Because when you’re tired in pain facing a vague death sentence and a poverty induced death sentence what you really want is a bunch of obsessed nazis desperately trying to find a way to attack you in a futile war that only serves to underline and mirror the futility of your own existence.
To tell you the truth I’m kind of glad Theresa May declared an election for June because I’ve been saying for a while that I’ll hang on until at least the end of the summer so this way before I off myself sometime September-ish I can have a chance to see a Jeremy Corbyn led Labour government in power. If they lose it’s only an extra year in power. Heads we win, tails, they lose.
Neoliberalism is weak and it could be toppled this summer. Which would be nice and if it isn’t the end is still nigh for the stupid fuckers. We are winning the war even as they fuck us over. There is hope. Win or lose, after this summer I think I shall probably die happy.
I am not the man I once was. I have gone from an asexual passionate firebrand to a lustful knackered thinker. I don’t think I can think my way out of the mess I’m in. I don’t think I can escape the death that’s coming for me. I don’t have the energy apart from anything else. Let it come. Let it take me. Let it destroy the last of what I am. I shall not go gently or willingly yet. There are things I wish to do. Sallies and rallies I wish to try. I have not entirely given up hope yet but the probability of my death only seems to rise with each passing day.
Everything I know, everything I once believed in has been questioned and tested. I used to be so certain. So convinced I was right. Now I just feel so stupid and so confused. I call myself an anti-theist yet I find myself embracing pan-theism. I identify strongly with capitalism and yet I see no hope of its survival and I have yet to see a right wing answer to what happens in post-scarcity that actually accepts the premise of post-scarcity. The right wing who aren’t purely amoral opportunistic greedy fucks have no answer to what I see as an increasing inevitability and that scares the almighty fuck out of me.
Democracy needs opposing opinions and solutions. Just as the left needs Corbyn now. The right needs a rightwing approach to post scarcity or it risks conceding the future to communists and socialists. Politics needs healthy debate. It needs different perspectives. It needs multiple approaches. The right cannot let the left dominate post scarcity discussion. I don’t care if you think post-scarcity is likely. I care what the right wing approach if/when it happened is.