No Thrones. No Crowns. No Kings.
On October 18, millions of us are rising again to show the world: America has no kings, and the power belongs to the people.
The unsupported use case of Bix Frankonis’ disordered, surplus, mediocre midlife in St. Johns, Oregon—now with climate crisis, rising fascism, increasing disability, eventual poverty, and inevitable death.
Read the current manifesto. (And the followup.)
Rules: no fear, no hate, no thoughtless bullshit, and no nazis.
On October 18, millions of us are rising again to show the world: America has no kings, and the power belongs to the people.
If this general tiredness and fatigue is going to be a persistent feature of life under the Mirtazapine Regime, two things are guaranteed: my housework is not going to get done even more than it doesn’t get done already, and my emotional fuse is going to run very short. When my resources get low, I yell a lot at things that are not cooperating (e.g. a box of trash bags, a coffee scoop, or a broom) and my rate of yelling has increased noticably since the Regime began at bedtime on Wednesday. I’m still waiting on word back from my primary care physician on what to expect in this regard, but one has to wonder about the comparative trade-off of decreasing one’s anxiety while increasing one’s enervation and general volatility.