Capitalism Isn't Working Another World Is Possible

Why I Detest Capitalism

Of course, it started in the home, though I had no idea of what capitalism was at the time. The earliest indication would’ve been my mother’s compulsive shopping, which now encompasses every closet in the house, four! Even today she’s the first to claim she has been cured through anonymous programs, and justifies this cure by shopping at yard sales for things she has no room/need for in her life.

As for me, I have been identified as spoiled. I am the oldest, so it makes sense, and as I sit here and type this post fifty-four years old, I have to admit that I am spoiled. I don’t like it and after fifty-four years have somehow come to despise wealth and celebrity. Millions of dollars as a salary is exorbitant; people with wealth are afforded opportunities: the perfect example would be Chris Brown; found guilty of FELONY assault and given a second chance by – albeit stupid – society; me FELON who could not secure employment for over 13 years!

Anyway, my contempt for capitalism increased with age, as I saw how it corrupts everything it touches. I live in Los Angeles County and collect Supplemental Security Income due to medical complications which preclude me from working. At $895/mo, I can’t even afford housing and remain , technically, homeless. And get this, I have been paying $200/mo for 10 years (approximately $31K over 13 years) to in a garage next door to my parents, who are also my landlords. Today, their preparation of the house in front really got to me and I viewed it as the tenants paying $3000/mo get favored just because they pay more. My garage could use some improvements, but once again, being poor equals no matter.

Even today, my mother is the first to be asking for money all the time. I know I owe her, I know where she lives, I even give financial updates, yet I feel harassed over money all the time. I pray for the day I am done paying her back and in the meantime, I take nothing from them. This combined with my guilty conscience from being a drug addict for so long, have taught me to hard on myself and to live and ascetic life. I know from personal experience that when I had the least, I was the happiest. I try to live in the vein and pray every day for Wall Street to crumble to the ground, along with the one percent.

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Me

My Shame

This is my secret shame for 54 years…No Penis!

My Penis

Apparently, due to obesity, which has been my companion for 54 years. Seriously, it looks like a vagina with testicles! Doesn’t matter much cause I can barely reach it to pleasure even myself, as much as anyone else. So no matter what I am male? Female? Hermaphrodite? it doesn’t even matter now.

Because of this non-existent penis, I have always been ashamed of my own body, preferring to have sex only in the dark, remaining clothed while I serviced other men/boys. And to make matters worse, I can’t even get an erection anymore – due to diabetes? High blood pressure? Low blood pressure? Weight? I am trying to find out now through my doctor(s).

So more history on how I got so fucked up in the head…

As a school youth, I avoided showering after gym to avoid unnecessary ridicule; I was already being called “gay” and “faggot.” When I started having sex, it was mostly anonymous as a result of being high/drunk – on the beach, cruising; guys I picked up in the bar for one night stands, etc. – so there was not much concern back then, plus I had the advantage of once being aroused, able to get an erection. The detriment I carried forward was the anonymity and the addiction.

I was fortunate once, to encounter Charlie, who taught me there were people that enjoyed big guys and taught me to appreciate and probably even love myself for a short time. Once Charlie and I separated, I returned to what I knew, two-fold.

Today, unable to get an erection, I can’t even act out sexually, when the pressure gets too much, as it must involve drugs. I know because I tried at great risk to myself. I hired a prostitute, who supplied crystal meth and GHB. While he went out to secure a second guy, I was on the phone with a fourth guy. Guy four came while guy two was gone, but I could not go through with it. WTF!? Guy two returned solo, which was probably best, but still the night cost me about $500 and I still was unsatisfied.

I am honest and open about my thoughts and actions with my psychologist and psychiatrist, who have taught me one thing that has really rocked my world. When I introduced the idea that I feel female/male it was suggested that my male persona/half allowed my female persona/half to be abused sexually…Hunger/Fury. Even during my last escapade, I was oblivious to what I was doing and feel that it was grace that prevented me from going further.

Once I get the erection thing solved, I plan on advertising my fat old self to chasers who will appreciate a big guy.

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Nothing Is Ever Simple

Nothing Is Ever Simple…

…in my family.

Mom just asked me to move a couch into the rental property, in the car, on the way home from the nursing appointment.

My immediate reply is “no” because I am sore all over my shoulders and back.

Then I start building up my arsenal of additional excuses not to help: poor old dad, parents are comfortable enough to hire people to do physical labor; I am not moving in; I am not making anything from this venture.

I am not making up excuses, I am being honest. Seems harsh, but I believe direct honesty is much more efficient.

So far there have been no repercussions, but I know better. One day it will come back to bite me. I can hear it now…”I don’t know why he is the way he is, we give him rides to all his doctor’s appointments and he can’t help us move a couch!” Actually, this serves as an excellent reminder to find out about patient transportation from my healthcare network.

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Bad Sex

My Unattractiveness Reaches Psychic Proportions

I had begrudgingly set up a date with Pierre the Prostitute – begrudgingly because I believe paying to be the one to do all the work (a blowjob). Especially, in this humidity with no air conditioning!? Got a bad vibe due to non-communication, his price was higher than normal, and we were going to blow clouds so I started looking for someone else.

Next was Darrius, who only liked pot. So being the people pleaser I am, I was off to the dispensary. It’s as if he was psychic – in my mind, at least – when I got the call from him – on the way to the dispensary, after worrying about time because my cousin that was going to ride me made me wait – that he was cancelling on me! WTF!?

I was dejected; my cousin noticed my change in mood and inquired. I had not been truthful to her about paying for sex so I remained silent.

So with a bag of weed, I went home and started looking again when I felt the green fuzzies. I could not find anyone that sounded like someone I might enjoy for the $120 in my pocket. Frustrated, I used the ads as porn, I actually watched 1.5 porn movie. I got very high and very sexually enticed and then went to bed and fantasized in my head of two daddies. How might they react to each other? With my luck, they’d be so turned of by each other, I would be Charlie Brown once again.

WHY AM I EVEN SO HELL BENT ON GETTING SEXED?

I am sex addict and the pot is not working as much anymore so now I seek out sex as a means to act out. I have ALWAYS associated drugs with sex; they enabled my male persona to condone the raping of my female persona. There are other factors: HIV+; Herpes; Cancer; my diabetes medication gives me cotton mouth 24/7; impotence; and my apparently morbid obesity.

On my side of the board I believe in paying for love is acceptable and should be an option for all of society. My biggest obstacle in attracting men is the men that I am attracted to: skinny to muscly men with big daddy dick! Sorry, getting excited, but no worry, the little guy asleep, motionless. Ha! So far, of the four men I have encountered, the first was the best; my success rate: 25%. Not too good. Further discouragement: I removed my anti-depressant from my medication regime, discovering that it was a cock-blocker – still nothing.

Oh, and then there a jealous child, Mojo.

 

Crying My Eyes Out

Feeling!!!!!!!!!!!

OMG! I was just thinking that I had better start planning…

I ran over to my computer and then started calculating and all of a sudden it came like a swell in the ocean from a tropical storm off shore…

I realized I am beginning to feel again. Anger at my state and federal governments; anticipation of a future event; realization that for the second time in my life that I can just live; that I have more energy, less pain; my spirit is reawakening.

And as I say that, I am feeling imaginary? miniscule gurgles under my right moob. To be fair, I think my venis (new word coined by me on this day in Los Angeles, California, United States of America this twenty-seventh day of July in the year two thousand seventeen) moved!