Most of it was out of my control. I did the things. I worked a menial job, got health insurance like a good parent, taking care not to burden my two kids. Who were oblivious to the crash. Not interested in many connections. Granted, my receiver set was damaged in the crash. The co-pilot was dead. Or escaped before the ship went down, I have no memory. That’s for the best. This is a different story.
The powers that be are not helping any of us humans. They believe robots and artificial intelligence and rocket ships are going to save their feudal kingdoms and preserve their bloodlines. They are mistaken.
In my case, an illegal firing from Whole Foods Market, Bee Cave, twice, set me on a new, more urgent trajectory. The legal case will wind through the EEOC, and I will get my right-to-sue letter. Then the dishwasher store lead will get his spanking. Twice, they fired me for their lack of processing my medical leave of absence, approved by their external HR firm. But this isn’t that story either.
As I soared without a net, my writing and tennis and love life were exploding in vibrant colors, diverse tangents, and unappreciated poetry. All seemed to be in line with my plans. The job with a big accounting firm took me two months to secure. But… The Strait of Hormuz War caused the firm to stop all new hires. Me. Stopped while filling in the health insurance information for my two kids. Fuck him.
Then the corporate giant Amazon (owner of WFM) denied my unemployment claim. Why? “They always do this,” said the case worker from the Texas Workforce Commission. Yes, I’m going to do this in public. I’m asking around for a firm willing to do a class action suit. I’m not the only one abused by this corporate giant. They use a sick leave club called UPT, unpaid time off. So, if it’s unpaid, why is it the lever they use to fire people they’ve grown weary of? It’s not right.
Again, not that story either.
I lost power to my house nearly a month ago. The copilot offered occasional wifi tethering and lodgings. Much more, suppressed by request. Not about her either. The cats adapted fine. Even with their fur coats, it was not yet the heat of the summer. The 95-degree afternoon in an uncooled house, well, they did okay. They missed their water fountain the most. We adapted. After a few power-down days, the city came and killed my water as well. That was harder. We pressed on with living our best life, given the circumstances.
The copilot was cooperative, but dealing with issues unrelated to me or us. “The Work” was still mostly uncovered and unresolved for her. Time to untether from her source of love and light as well.
Alone in the dark of this earthly night, I could still see the stars and moon. I was forced to enjoy them in my grounded state. Grounded. Stripped bare. All sources of income were either under appeal or waiting for updated tax forms. My accountant (last season for him) had filed something wrong. About two thousand dollars was being withheld until the corrected form was filed. Then my accountant’s brother died. Two months later, he sat with me in a cafe and gave me the corrected form and an envelope addressed to the IRS in his scratchy hand lettering.
“You can call them. I got disconnected, but I was told they could take the numbers over the phone.”
The next two days I spent at least five hours on hold for the IRS, only to be told, ” Nope, you’ve got to mail it in.” Okay, bought a stamp and put that sucker in the mail. Still no joy.
Even as nastygrams flooded my inbox and mailbox, I remained calm. “What more can they do to me?” I said.
This morning, before I was out of bed, say 6:10, I noticed a glow from the hallway. Dawn was breaking. The thermostat for my cooling system was lit. I was back in power. The water should be by 9 pm tonight. I am saved.
It’s too early to launch for Venus. I have a few days of prep and cleaning. Testing the pressure seals on the airlocks. Consulting with the cats about our next destination.
“Something a bit more balanced,” Sid (the cat) says.
She only came to my house three times. In three months. The previous copilot.
I struggled through the end days alone. Even her tether became unreliable. I had to destroy the comms between us to prevent hostile messaging. Nope, not gonna blast me first thing in the morning. I’ve been up since 5 am working in a coffee shop, and you’ve got bad mojo, not “Good Morning, Sweetheart.”
No.
I wanted to give you an update from here, this moment in time and space. Rooted. Grounded. Prepping new star maps, new telemetry data for the maiden voyage. Solo. Han solo. (A ‘hand solo’ joke.)
Happy chappie here, so… If you were worried about me, I’m okay. Not ready to spin up the FTL drives, but it won’t be long. The cats are giddy with their water fountain’s reboot and refresh. I’m not going to tackle the stinky fridge until after the freeze cycle has neutralized some of the flora and fauna inside. DO NOT OPEN.
Thanks for sticking beside me. It’s been a bit of a rough journey, but as I said a thousand times, “I’ve been through worse.”
Note: A long-time friend and “life coach” contacted me a few weeks ago. “Your writing is amazing. You’re on a roll.”
“Thank you.”
“Is your power really off at your house?”
“Yep. It’s kind of an experiment.”
“What have you been doing with your time?”
It wasn’t a friendly question. It was a gossip question. He wanted the dirt. Um…
What he never asked. “How can I support you?”
A narcicist live coach with zero emotional intelligence. I would say something to him, but why. Let those fuckers float off into deep space.
A few hours later he texted me this.

Have not heard from him since. He didn’t like that I thought his AI-designed site looked generic and awful. “I’m happy to provide feedback, if you like,” I said when he shared it. See, I’m interested in helping people. Always. Do what you can. Be kind. When the journey together has reached a conclusion, either through firing, breaking up, or some dumb inquiry, be kind. Release them without drama or spite. Just let them drift away.
prompt for image: My spaceship has crash landed in the middle of a suburb of austin texas, birds eye view of the crash site, two cats are seen, and one man, smiling, but injured. Surreal. Modern. Post-modern. Existentialist. Liminal. Vibrant. Joyful. Marginalia of star maps. (teaching without teaching)
second prompt revision:

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The podcast of artistic resistance to AI.
a cloud pilots overview of sorts