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Thursday, May 30, 2019

Pierwalker Log: May 30, 2019

Writing start: 9:36 A.M.
Finish: 3:23 P.M.
Total new words (est.): 700
Edited (est.): 6600
Tasks

1. Failure: 500 new words
Notes: I'm guessing this final chapter will be in the 7K range.

2. Book Three Melody: Off till 6/3

3. Angel: Book Three: First primary edit of chapter two

4. Random Chance Book Two: Off till 6/10

5. Port Story: Read-through of chapter two

6. Hidden Bookmarks: 200 new words
Notes: Chapter completed! It's short--fewer than 2K words--but a good start.

7. Rumpel: Off

8. Zelena (Secondary Edit One): First secondary edit of part seven

Special Projects: None today

Extra notes: Shouting into a vacuum gets tiresome. But that's been my lot now for fifteen years.

I've gotten much stronger in the face of it in that time. But occasionally still, it gets to me. It did last night; I went to bed depressed and angry.

But it has nothing to do with me in the end. Very few people bother interacting anymore. Very few people bother getting involved. They are nothing but consumers, little pigs or leeches or tumors bee-boppin' about the digital place, consuming, consuming, consuming ... never stopping, never taking the time to make themselves count, never jumping into the fire, never going out on a limb.

When I opened comments on this blog, I had no fear of flamers or trolls. The comments are very strictly moderated, which pushes people away. Most want to "hit and run" and be done with it. I don't allow that. Trolls and flamers don't profit from a moderated blog like this one. If they flame me, I'll read no more than the first few words and then delete the damn thing from existence. I don't bother with the rest of it.

So here I am, and here I have been for a decade and a half now, shouting into a vacuum.

Vacuums occur when the breathable air is evacuated from a space. Or consumed. Same goddamn difference. It takes a thick skin to deal with it for a year, let alone fifteen.

But here I am.

These logs were created as a direct answer to the Vacuum, which I shall hereforward capitalize. They say: "Hey, assholes, look what I did today. I've been doing it for fifteen motherfuckin' years. Day after day after day. You can ignore them all you want; go ahead! You can consume them too, I suppose: pig out! You can go back to your suburban ennui and meaningless lives, and you can pretend that you're better than their author, because you've got the good sense not to try something like this--shouting into the Vacuum. You've got your nice cog jobs and your mortgages and your bloating spouses and angry kids; you've got your dreams of a Trumpian dystopia; you've got your late-model car (like your home, owned by the bank, not you); you've got your Safeway and your corporate perfume; you've got your shopping online at Amazon and updating your Facebook profile with new pics from your weekend getaway.

"It's all about consumption for you. And so that's all you are.

"In essence, you are the Vacuum. And it's nonsensical and insane to think you'll ever change."

I came to that realization a few years ago. It's why I haven't given up blogging and writing and yelling at the world. Because, in the end, though I'm shouting at the Vacuum--your all-consuming ass--I'm also shouting at the very few, the very rare: the appreciators. They are out there, too. And though reaching them is as likely as winning the lottery, it's worth the daily effort. Because that's how real change happens in this world. That's how the roads get paved towards better destinations. That's how the world spins.

And, I'm convinced, it's how you get to Heaven. The Anti-Vacuum Place.



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