The entire contents of r/TheElectricSlide by WhatInTheActualKylie
with comments by:
- Juniper_Jams “Jess” friend of WhatInTheActualKylie – doesn’t know about Gloria Estefan? “She is TIMELESS.”
- McKeon09876 – IRL “friend” of WhatInTheActualKylie in atlanta, dietitian
Welcome to my personal subreddit, ladies. Invite only, super swag, you should be honored to take part in my eclectic online bricolage.
Wine & takeout, NPR on —
Inner conflict: Recyclable container needs rinsed…
But Too lazy so trash bin it goes (sorry!)
hey. don’t knock dad rock! btw loveLOVElove this one:
I’m just smiling at your kid
Fuck this shitty world permalink
These are Western Haikus. Freeform 3-line pops that aren’t restricted by syllables or meter. Love them because when done right they are like these beautiful little snapshots. Not as easy as it looks!!
I ate a whole box of mac and cheese by myself. The kind with shells, which somehow makes it worse.
Gloria Estefan – Get On Your Feet
[–]Juniper_Jams 2 years ago
Holy guac! No credit card bills, either! What has two thumbs and is going shopping? This gal!
Yellowjacket lands on my arm! don’tfreakdon’tfreakdon’tfreak–PHEW Alexa, play for my fav Sufjan song
Took a trip down memory lane and stumbled across this. Remember playing this like 5 million times??
Rebecca Black – Friday
Sorry not sorry it’s stuck in your head now!
Got any for me? (and Jess don’t even with Drake).
That spring when the snow melted We saw all the cigarette butts and I asked: Which ones are ours? Will said, “All the white ones.”
You might not know this about me…not because I’m embarassed or anything, but because I’ve had it since I was a kid and they’ve been treating it. And it really wasn’t a thing… Until it was.
I have epilepsy.
The seizures are back. I’ve been on medication so long that when I went off it, I wondered if I even needed it anymore. But, I guess I do. Too bad I can’t even get the same medicine anymore 🙁
I went to fill my prescription, but I guess there’s global shortages now for the ingredients or whatever goes into making my anti-seizure medication since like the one pharma company that manufactures it went belly up. FML.
My doctors have me trying different AEDs, so we’ll see…. Fingers crossed.
The seizures are getting worse. Coming daily now. Sometimes a few a day. I’m wiped out and just want to sleep afterwards. I’ve gone through 3 different meds. Now my Neuro wants me to try dietary therapy and a lower dosage of Pheno — but when I was on it before, I had pretty bad side-effects. And if that doesn’t work, the last option is surgery… IE removing a part of my brain. Which, no. So I guess I’m on a crazy restrictive diet now. (Let’s hope it goes better than the South Beach diet we tried Sophomore year… I mean, it better or else…)
Also: Other shoe dropped. Knew the layoffs were coming, today made it official. Super cool right before the holiday weekend, too, you guys. So. Yay. Not like I was super productive anyway with my epilepsy right now, so what the fuck ever.
hey k sorry it’s been a minute since i dropped in and didnt see this sooner… why didn’t you reach out to me when your doctors first recommended dietary therapy as an option? it’s been proven effective for children with epilepsy. AFAIK it’s not typically recommended for adults (not that its less effective but because following and maintaining a restrictive diet can be challenging). obvs follow your Neurologists recommendations down to the letter (I’m sure it’s based on your body weight and they’ve got you measuring out your portions with a kitchen scale so your macros are EXACT), but if you need any additional help with your nutrition or just support in general, let me know! I will DM you some easy recipes. i know that red meats are basically a luxury item now, but canned tuna and peanut butter will be pretty good staples. and sorry about your job. i know that you hated it, so maybe this will be a blessing in disguise?
So much anger. You can feel it out there… and I can feel it in here, in my veins. Problem is: I don’t know who to blame. Who is the bad guy? Fsociety? The Government? E Corp? Big pharma? God? All of the above? I just feel like if I at least knew how to direct my anger, maybe I could compartmentalize it. But it’s all unfocused rage at EVERYTHING and it’s spilling over into all aspects of my being.
And I don’t like it. Everything sets me off now. I never used to be so short-tempered. Maybe it’s a side-effect of the Pheno… although it’s hard to tell if it’s the meds or the world around me that’s making me super irritable. I don’t recognize myself sometimes. It’s this venom inside me and I don’t know how to shake it off.
I don’t know how I can keep going on like this. Something’s gotta give…
hear me out on this, but you should come join me at the E Corp protest. more and more people are showing up every day to their HQ. yah there’s anger out there but there’s also a vibe of togetherness. people sharing their stories. you might find it cathartic.
This is going to sound crazy coming from me, but despite how fucked up the world is right now, things seem to be on the up and up. Since I went on this crazy ass diet comboed with the meds, the seizures are minimal… some breakthrough absent seizures, which whatever, and I’m also down like 10lbs! Sure, my pee smells funny and I’m probably going to die from Mercury poisoning from all the canned tuna… It might be more the meds than the diet, and I’m certainly not where I was before Five/Nine, but hey, it’s working (for the most part) and if it ain’t broke…
And, while I’m checking in, let’s file this one under “The Universe Has a Sense of Humor.” I met someone! He’s called Dylan. So, I’ve been pretty much a daily fixture protesting outside of E Corp (which, as a side note, is why I haven’t been posting much). And one day Jess and I decided to splurge and treat ourselves to lunch — this Greek place around the corner from the E Corp HQ — and that’s where I met Dylan… who, in an ironic turn, was on his lunch break… from E Corp. (I tried not to hold that against him, but he’s at least self-deprecating about it, which, if you know anything about me, self-deprecating humor is like THE thing that makes me weak in the knees). Better yet, he, like me, hates Bob Dylan. (Though I suspect that has more to do with the annoyance of his namesake than the rejection of an inexplicable cult following for mediocre music). So score.
He eats takeout Straight from the box But refuses to use a plastic fork.
Something I heard on a podcast awhile back popped into my head: humans have the remarkable ability to adapt to harsh environments. This was used to explain how we can tolerate terrible living conditions, because we assimilate the horribleness into our reality as a norm.
And that’s pretty much what has happened since Five/Nine. Things got shitty, then they got worse. And worse. And then, somewhere along the way, you got used to it — sort of. At least to the point where life went on and you finally accepted this new godawful world. Basically we’ve been broken into submission but you met a cute guy so it’s not all that bad.
It’s still upsetting when shit goes wrong because the hits do keep coming — the shelves at the bodegas are empty and I can’t find canned tuna anymore because of diesel shortages. Fresh eggs cost an arm and a leg. And if I don’t maintain this crazy diet I’ll have to get lobotomized, so that’s real fucking cool. All the little ways that the universe conspires against us.
Or the big ways. Say, for example — and in no way is this what actually happened because that would be crazy, right? — you’re forcibly evicted from your apartment because all your neighbors stopped paying rent (and you did too, truthfully, because why should you pay when no one else is), so now your landlord can terminate all the leases and sell the building to a developer, which is what they wanted to do for years but couldn’t because of the tenants.
There must be money out there still and if anything Five/Nine continues to highlight just how rigged the system is against the poor and middle-class.
Anyway — whatever — I’ve been staying at Dylan’s place a lot lately so DGAF.
Now that the power’s back on, I can share this — It’s been a few days now and I’m still haunted by this image:
Went out looking for more kerosene and at the corner store (the only one in my neighborhood that hadn’t been looted miraculously), I saw a woman with her screaming baby looking for milk. She had the cooler door propped open and was opening all the gallons and smelling each, one by- one. Trying to find milk that hadn’t yet soured. All the while the baby cried and cried, tormented by all the milk she couldn’t drink. They left empty handed. My heart goes out to them and I hope she found some milk for her child. That might be my lasting memory of this fucking terrible blackout — not the looting and stealing and fighting over scraps (terrible as those were) – – but a starving baby and a determined mother gagging on curdled milk.
Trail of ants……….. Is it trail or train? I wonder
As I douse them with Black Flag
Him: We need to talk.
Me: About what? (Internal monologue: I’ve heard those words before, hell I’ve SAID those words before… I know what.)
Him: After I leave for work today, maybe you should collect all your things…
Me: And do what with them?
Him: So long as they aren’t here when I get home, what you do with them is up to you.
Me: Ok, so you want my things gone. And what about me?
Him: Jesus, are you going to make me say it?
Me: For the sake of clarity, you probably should. (I say this FULL o’ snark).
Him: Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.
Me: So that’s it, then?
Him: Are you surprised?
Me: (no response. Sort of but not really)
Him: It was fun playing house at first. But this is more than I signed up for.
Me: And just what did you think you were signing up for?
Him (deflects): You could’ve at least tried to get another job.
Me: Oh, I see now.
Him: If this is what it takes, I’m sorry but — good. Maybe you’ll get your shit together.
Me: Right, the world is my oyster now. I just needed motivating. Thanks, coach.
Him: I tried to be supportive, I tried to get you a job.
Me: You mean you tried to get me to sell my soul. It’s bad enough you work there.
Him: But not bad enough you mind living off me. And with your dietary needs…?
Me: <shoots daggers at him>
Him: I can’t– I can’t date a fucking TICK.
Me (shocked silence, finally): Cool.
(I may have omitted the parts that made me sound like a blubbering idiot).
Been a minute so here’s a quick news flash (not that anyone frequents this space anymore. I guess this is all for my own edification now, but I suppose it always was from the start). Yeah I moved back home to the CT. It’s been… what you’d expect moving back home would be like. My dad is still my dad. Which is both reassuring and also craptastic. At least I can find foods that fit my diet easier. The farmers market in town is pretty dope — it’s mostly a barter system now. The fish guy will trade for eggs. To that point: I bought a chicken! Her name is Ilene and yes, before you even ask, I sing “Come on Ilene” to her when I check for eggs. Fresh eggs… <kisses fingertips> Delish.
It’s a new dawn and a new day
The Hope that it brings
Lasts until the coffee runs out.
Somebody took Ilene.
She was the only good thing I had left.
And now she’s gone.
Probably dead and eaten.
Changing this subreddit from private to public so that when future generations study this point in American History maybe they will find this and have a first-person account of just how bad it was to live through… If you could that is.
So long, and thanks for all the fish. (But not really because I’m fucking sick of eating fish).