#ok rant finito

[verita-lapalissiana]

Il nauseante cerchiobottismo del fatto quotidiano ogni volta che devono fare finta di ammettere che israele sta commettendo un genocidio

[demonecelestiale]

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[tayfinities]

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[janiedean]

che ne pensi della storia del ragazzo 30enne che si è suicidato? personalmente la vicenda mi ha fatto venire i brividi, non so se pensare 'è lui che ha ragione, la scoietà fa schifo' oppure 'magari se non l'avesse fatto avrebbe avuto un'opportunità in più'...

tipo ho visto ora e sono già riuscita a beccare un articolo da prendere a ceffoni e uno che invece abbastanza riassume quello che penso io.

mo, non entrando nel merito perché per dire io per quanto sia perennemente frustrata con lo stato delle cose non credo arriverei mai a voler morire per i motivi elencati dal ragazzo in questione ma quelli sono problemi suoi personali e non intendo mettere le mani sul diritto di chiunque di farsi fuori - cioè ovviamente se uno me lo dice cerco di convincerlo a non farlo ma la vita è tua e ne fai quello che vuoi, ma: sicuramente se ti ammazzi ti precludi delle opportunità come dicevi tu prima, ma vabbè come sopra non ti conosco, non posso sapere che situazione hai.

PERO’, articoli che dicevo prima. qui ci sta una signora palesemente oltre i quaranta che non ha capito una minchia e parte con la storia del ‘voi giovani non avete tre lavori all’uscita dal liceo ma avete possibilità! viaggiate! emigrate! devi imparare a vivere! la situazione di crescita economica è stata una parentesi! potete farcela! .... e infatti la dice da signora ultraquarantenne che FA LA GIORNALISTA. ora, quello è un discorso che non reggo minimamente perché scusate ma la generazione pre anni ottanta è stata l’ultima a non essere stata inculata dal **sistema** e quella dopo la nostra lo sarà di meno se trump non ci ammazza prima. noi dai venticinque ai trentacinque che siamo nati negli ottanta non è che stiamo ad aspettare il lavoro sul piatto d’argento, ma quello che so è che i miei con due anni di domande/lavori/sforzi semi-minimi all’epoca si sono trovati un lavoro facendo concorsi che hanno superato e si sono sistemati. io se adesso voglio lavorare all’università ho davanti una prospettiva di almeno dieci anni di precariato. metà della gente che conosco se si sistema ci mette comunque anni. io giuro ho passato uN CAZZO DI ANNO a manda curriculum dove non mi rispondevano o se rispondevano erano lavori pagati con la partita iva PER LAVORARE IN UFFICIO FULL TIME (che è sfruttamento ops), il resto del tempo era tirocinio gratis o ‘ah ma non hai esperienza perché all’università non lavoravi’ oppure ‘HAI DUE LAUREE SEI TROPPO QUALIFICATA’ oppure HAI STUDIATO QUINDI SEI TROPPO VECCHIA SORRY e per il servizio civile c’ho messo tre cazzo di tentativi. ai miei NESSUNO si sarebbe sognato di appioppare il tirocinio non retribuito o la partita iva con lavoro full time. l’italia nel bene o nel male campa sfruttando i trentenni/venticinquenni che lavorano gratis e non sono messi in condizione di versarsi i fondi pensionistici (perché lol signora mia dell’articolo sopra inventarsi un lavoro di solito vuol dire che la pensione non te la preleva automaticamente il datore di lavoro dall’assegno). e la gente emigra pure perché qui non fa soldi ma non perché VUOLE. dire ‘beh puoi sempre andartene’ è tipo ammettere la sconfitta, ma ok. e in tutto ciò conosco gente laureata o che comunque ha una Istruzione TM che sta a londra a lavorare da starbucks. che ok starbucks a londra paga più di un lavoro medio qui, ma porcaputtana, non ho preso due lauree per lavorare da starbucks.

e qui vorrei anche dire alla signora che sto discorso del ‘ah ma i giovani sono vittimisti’ non può venire dalla sua generazione visto che non c’ha proprio cazzi di fare storie visto che poi l’inculamento della nostra generazione è avvenuto anche grazie a scelte fatte dalla sua. ma vabbe.

DETTO CIO’ invece sottoscrivo al 100% la ragazza qui che fa un’eccellente autocritica su quanto la generazione nostra è menefreghista e finché si tratta di fare i froci col culo degli altri va tutto bene (passate la battuta molto poco PC ma non so come metterla più carinamente) e su quanto quando si trattava di fa qualcosa per la vita pubblica/la tua scuola/quello che è dei nostri coetanei si presentavano in due. cioè io pure sono circondata da ultracinquantenni ovunque vado e al liceo non vedevo un’anima alle assemblee. assolutamente siamo venuti su senza una coscienza generazionale che andava oltre il cazzeggio in generale, e lo dico perché se l’avessimo una roba come pagarti a partita iva quando fai full time in ufficio non esisterebbe o i tirocini non retribuiti e varie ed eventuali. ma chi ha protestato in maniera specifica quando nel 2003 si sono inventati quello schifo dei co.co.pro? boh. non me lo ricordo. e così via. cioè la tomba ce la siamo anche un poco scavata da soli e unita alla situazione attuale di cui sopra si crea il disastro e andiamo tutti da starbucks.

cioè ho fatto un rant e mi so resa conto che manco ho risposto alla domanda in realtà ma tldr sul ragazzo in caso specifico non mi sento di dire niente perché sono cose su cui non posso legiferare e dire che uno non doveva ammazzarsi perché tu l’hai deciso non esiste, ha avuto i suoi motivi legittimi o meno e uno deve rispettarli. avrebbe trovato qualcosa prima o poi? probabilmente sì. c’aveva ragione ad essersi rotto il cazzo di fare il precario? e chi gli dà torto. è colpa del sistema? sì e no, perché il sistema ci ha inculato ma gliel’abbiamo anche lasciato fare generazionalmente e quelli di noi che problemi di trovà lavoro non ne avevano se ne fregano. deve cambiare il sistema? MA ASSOLUTAMENTE. vedremo mai la pensione noi? sì, quella sociale, se trump non ci ammazza prima. fai bene ad ammazzarti se la società fa schifo? rega io sempre stata atea e sempre lo sarò, per me c’è questo giro e poi è finito tutto e sinceramente non me la sentirei mai di farla finita per qualsiasi cosa perché non sai mai che ti aspetta nella vita. avrai occasioni prima o poi? BEH PRIMA O POI. ti piaceranno? probabilmente no ma a sto punto già il posto dignitoso sarebbe fin troppo. (peccato che i posti dignitosi non li riservano a noi.) ti gira il cazzo a sentire i cinquantenni che dicono che ci lamentiamo troppo? porca miseria se ti gira. che dovemo fà? non lo so ma la cosa è deprimente e sarebbe pure ora che qualche governo invece che decidere che siamo tutti pigri e che non vogliamo lavorare e che dovremmo levarci dal cazzo quando sto paese se non va avanti col lavoro nero va avanti sottopagando i trentenni ci si fili un minimo.

vorrei dire, non credo che non essere precario nella vita sia chiedere troppo.

[edenfalling]

Ooh! Homestuck, Dirk, Roxy, cuddle. It's the post-Sburb world, and there are too many people all the time, and only Dirk and Roxy want to flee screaming to a (pair of) faraway mountains. Bring back the blissful solitude of the post-apocalypse.

Notcompliant with the credits snapchats, because reasons. :) [2,700 words] 

---------------------------------------------Some Little Talk aWhile of Me and Thee--------------------------------------------- 

The stupid part is, up until that one moment, Roxy washaving a really good night. All her friends (except Dirk, who hung grimly onthrough dinner and absconded immediately thereafter) together in one room, enoughdinner for everyone to eat their fill and then dessert on top of that, thepleasant ache of an honest day's work building the infrastructure of their newworld... yeah. A good night. 

Except the thing is, as much as she needs people -- and sheneeds people a lot, needs that feedback loop of attention paid and returned --there's a big difference between hanging out online and hanging out with adozen people jammed together in a single room. And she hasn't been gettingalone time during the days either, always busy working with a crew ofcarapacians (who at least are quiet) and consorts (who are emphatically not). 

Roxy doesn't notice the slow buildup of stress, but she canpinpoint exactly when the night tips from I-can-manage to oh-god-make-it-stop. 

She's been kibitzing on the edges of Rose, John, and Jane'smeal planning session (defusing any baby disagreements before they grow intoanything serious), keeping half an ear on the Pictionary session Callie,Kanaya, and Terezi have going in the far corner, and watching Jade gleefullyannihilate Dave and Karkat at Mario Kart. It's maybe a little bit much to betracking all at once, but the satisfaction outweighs the strain until Davethrows a piece of popcorn at Jade, who teleports it into the tangle of Karkat'shair, who draws breath in preparation for an inside-voice-what-inside-voicerant, and Roxy is abruptly and completely done.Zip, zilch, finito, cutlery shop's closed up and all the merchandise is gone. 

She shoves herself up from the warm and squashy armchair shestaked out as her private territory back when they first built this grouphouse, and says to nobody in particular: "I'm gonna go check on Dirk, it'sbeen a while since he noped out and I want to make sure he hasn't broken his neckor started a robot apocalypse in his sleep." 

Rose and Jane break off their debate over the relativemerits of fish tacos and sushi to give her a pair of sharp glances. John justlooks adorkably confused. 

Roxy dredges up a smile from her last reserves of sociability. 

It must not be very convincing, because Rose frowns andtenses like she's going to ask if Roxy needs any help, or maybe even stand upand give her a hug. Her concern is like a warm mug of hot chocolate, but thething about warm mugs of hot chocolate is they're awesome on a frigid winterday after messing around in the snow for a couple hours, but this specific timeand place are more like a metaphorical scorching summer day when you're alreadysugared out and anything sweet makes you want to gag. In other words, amomdaughter's loving attention is nice in theory, but it's not conducive tonoping the fuck out of the room, not to mention if anyone touches her rightnow, Roxy might actually break down and scream. 

Fortunately, Jane rescues her. 

She does something to Rose -- elbows her? kicks her underthe coffee table? hard to say -- and while Rose is busy trying to regather hertrain of thought, Jane grins at Roxy, somehow managing to make the expressionboth obviously fake and equally obviously made of 24-carat solid goldsincerity. 

"That sounds like an excellent plan!" she says."When you find him, tell him that Jade needs to run the latest plans forthe electricity grid past him, particularly the battery storage systems forevening the solar and wind outputs. I think the files are in the civilengineering dropbox account, so he shouldn't need to ask her for anything untilhe's finished reviewing and annotating them." 

Roxy nods. 

"Well, what are you waiting for? Scram!" Janemakes little shooing motions with her hands. 

Rose, apparently catching on to Roxy's actual state of mind,smiles benevolently and waves goodbye. "Au revoir," she says in herperpetually dry tone. "If anyone asks where you are, I'll tell them I sentyou to give daddy dearest my love, perhaps in the form of seagull pie." 

Jane rolls her eyes. John snickers and sticks out his tonguein mostly mock-disgust. 

"Thanks, guys," Roxy manages to say, and flees. 

--------------- 

After a indeterminate period of time trying not tohyperventilate in her en suite bathroom, she sits cross-legged on her bed andwonders if she ought to make good on her escape excuse. 

Dirk's even worse with large groups than Roxy is and doesn'tmake any attempt to pretend otherwise, but he's still human (no matter how muchhe sometimes dislikes that fact) and even the most introverted human is, atbase, a social animal. And not all contact has to be as overwhelming as groupevents. 

Roxy pulls out her phone, briefly contemplates calling him,then tosses that plan right the fuck out the window. Voices are bullshit. Textis their mutual mother tongue, and she'd bet at least half a baby universe Dirkisn't up for vocalizing right now. 

-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] began pestering timaeusTestified[TT] -- 

TG: the thing nobody ever tells you about other people ishow fuckin NOISY they areTG: amiright?TG: i never thought id say this, but i miss ourpost-apocalyptic disaster zoneTG: not like, the looming threat of the batterwitch n shit,but the quietTG: maybe even some of the survivalist stuffTG: rose and the crockerberts gave me the weirdest look wheni said we should make seagull pie for our next movie night extravaganzaTG: there is GOOD EATING on seagullsTG: and they make a nice change from fish you know?TG: i thought id finally gotten away from descaling fishwhen we ditched sea hitlers water hellscape, but nopeTG: here we are back to fish for every meal that doesnt comestraight from our alchemiters and dwindling stocks of gristTG: (its ok you dont have to talk back if you dont want to)TG: (i just wanted to bitch to someone who gets it)TT: It's cool.TT: I know exactlywhat you mean about the quiet.TT: If you're game toendure the ultra minimum of human contact, i.e., breathing within the samecubic meter of air, I'm on the roof by the south chimney.TT: If not, I can seethe dock and it's currently unoccupied.TT: Assuming this isa day when the incessant susurrus of waves will invoke positive memories ratherthan negative ones, that could make a decent temporary retreat.TG: awww, ur a sweetie, sitting watch over our friends likea depressed gargoyleTG: on due consideration im ok with breathing your grosspre-breathed airTG: maybe if we get really daring we can work up to touchingpinky fingers!TG: le gaspTT: Scandalous. What will the neighbors say?TT: But I'm down forperversion if you are, Ms. Lalonde.TG: k hang onto your panties, im coming up 

-- tipsyGnostalgic [TG] ceased pestering timaeusTestified[TT] -- 

--------------- 

Roxy scrambles over the edge of the roof (she could justfly, of course, but where's the fun in that?) to find Dirk not just near thesouth chimney but actually curled up in the angle where it meets the solartiles, using the heat radiating from the bricks to counter the early autumnchill. He has his shades off in deference to the darkness, but his eyes are closedinstead of aimed up toward the frankly gorgeous light of the pink and whitemoons, both approaching full tonight. 

Roxy flops back against the dark tiles of the roof, armsspread wide, and watches the moons flirt with thin veils of cloud. Her friends'voices drift out of the open windows downstairs, but distance and the ambientsounds of wind and wave blur them into a companionable sort of white noise. Theconsorts' various weekend parties are louder, but further away; noticeable onlywhen a line or two of song finds a favorable breeze or a new branch tossed on abonfire sends a gust of sparks above the trees and roofs of the slowly growingtown. 

The carapacians' celebrations, of course, make no sound. 

She and Dirk breathe in companionable silence for nearly anhour, while the white moon travels fifteen degrees toward zenith and the pinkmoon nearly twenty degrees in the same direction, edging toward partialeclipse. Roxy's still kind of giddy over the orbital mechanics of a three-bodysystem, and the difference two moons make in the rhythm of the tides. It couldtake years to work the changes into her bones. 

She has years tospend on things like that. She spent her whole childhood isolated and trappedunder an incessant, shadowy weight. Now it's gone. She's free. She's not aloneanymore. 

It would be nice if she were better at coping with thatchange. 

Beside her, Dirk sighs, pulls his legs up to his chest, andrests his face between his knees. Something's gone cockeyed in his head again,and if nobody interrupts him he'll just debate himself into knots and grandiose'for your own good' bullshit stunts. 

And hey, an hour of silence isn't enough to get Roxyanywhere near ready to face a crowd, but it's more than enough to talk to heroldest friend. 

"The dumbest thing," she says, jumping straight inbecause what's the sense in wasting mouth noises on irrelevancies, "isthat weekend movie nights aren't even party-parties,nothing loud or crazy intense. It's just all our best friends hanging out oncomfy sofas playing goofy sleepover games, but stupid me got so wound up I hadto run screaming into the night. Otherwise I would've lost my shit at them overfish tacos and a popcorn fight, and that's just wrong with a capital R." 

"Capital W," Dirk mutters, uncurling slightly andtilting his head until a sliver of orange iris is visible over the edge of hisright knee. 

"Pedant," Roxy says, rather than draw attention tohis temporary lack of shades. "I just keep thinking, it shouldn't bug meso much. You've got a perfect excuse to flip out at extended socialinteractions, mister raised-by-robots. I actually had real live neighbors. Ishould be over this by now." 

Dirk shrugs, which looks incredibly doofy when he's allcurled up like a pill bug. "As people keep telling me, brains aren'tparticularly logical organs. Besides, there's a pretty big difference betweensign language and a dozen plus people with actual vocal cords, some of whomhave a tragically shaky grasp of appropriate volume control." 

"Ha. Yeah. Still." 

"Still," Dirk agrees. 

Roxy spreads her arms wide, staring up at the moons and theas-yet-unnamed constellations of their new universe, galaxy, solar system.Their new sun's a little brighter than Sol used to be -- a little smaller inthe sky, a little more pure-white than yellow-white -- and more like Alternia'ssun in its position vis-à-vis galactic center, which makes for some amazinglydense and brilliant starscapes. And she's saying this as a person who grew upwith no artificial light to blank out old Earth's night skies. 

"Humans made the trolls' signs into constellationswithout any outside influence, just the shape of the universe orsomething," she muses. "I wonder if it's cheating to design ourconstellations ourselves." 

Dirk shrugs again, a faint movement of shadow against darkershadow in the corner of her vision. "All our sessions were fucked from thestart; we had to cheat just to get out alive. What's a little more cheatingcompared to that? Ethical qualms aside, I'm pretty sure this planet isn't goingto be the focus of any future Sburb sessions. That dubious honor goes to the billionsof native planets kicking around this universe. If anyone's getting gentlymanipulated into using three-eyed cats and purple horrorterrors as part oftheir star myths, it's all those statistically inevitable aliens out there inthe wild black yonder." 

"I bet their myths kick ass," Roxy says. 

"I believe that's more or less implicit in thedefinition of the word. I'm not sure what they'll make of a hat or an LPrecord, though," Dirk says. 

This time it's Roxy's turn to shrug. "Old-schoolD&D monsters, maybe? Or no, ten gets you one they'll go with crows andseagulls instead." She pauses, reconsiders. "Then again, Terezi'ssymbol is basically a giant lab tool with a shit-ton of cultural baggage, andKarkat's is kind of like, handcuffs, right? Maybe hats wind up as a symbol ofintellect and general badassery -- oh! or artificial life, like Frosty theSnowman's magic hat, 'cause of your robots and puppets thing -- and recordssymbolize creativity and art and stuff." 

"Hats as a symbol of hubris and overreach, morelikely," Dirk mutters. 

Roxy wriggles sideways until she's just close enough toflick the fingertips of her left hand against the side of his shoe. "Knockit off, dumbass. Nobody gets to badmouth my best friend -- not even my bestfriend." 

Dirk unburies his face and meets Roxy's eyes straight on,one eyebrow raised. "I was under the impression that that title belongedto either Jane or Calliope. When did I inherit the position, and why was I notpreviously informed of this change in status? Are you sure you're followingfriend protocol correctly?" 

Roxy flicks his shoe again. "Friendship is a bigcategory! You're all, like, different instantiations of the concept of 'bestfriend' -- Callie's my squee and kissing partner, Janey's my partner in crime,Rosie's my sister, Jake's my goofing off friend, Dave's my surrealism feedbackdude, John's my maybe-kinda-sorta other kissing partner, and so on and soforth. You, Dirk Strider, are theperson who knows me best in two and a half entire fucking universes. Okay?You're the one who knows what it's like. If I ever run off to be a hermit on amountaintop, I want you to come be a hermit on the mountain next door. We cansend heliograph messages back and forth, or learn how to yodel and shit, andonce a month we'll get together and have a wild and crazy hermit party, justthe two of us. That's the kind of best friend you are for me." 

Dirk is silent for a long moment. Then he unwraps his righthand from his legs and lets it drop downward until his fingertips are justbrushing the soft, ticklish (completely un-carapacian) skin of Roxy's leftwrist, right over the veins carrying blood back to her heart. 

"All that, back at you," he says. 

Roxy blinks back a sudden rush of tears, and laces theirfingers together. Dirk lets her. 

"Jade has some electric grid plans for you to lookover," she says after a minute. "You can do that anywhere,right?" 

"Yeah," Dirk says. 

"Then come seagull hunting with me tomorrow. Just the twoof us, out on the water. Like old times. I have a harpoon gun I've been wantingto try out, and we can tell anyone who complains that we're taking soundingsand stuff for potential tidal generators. Hell, we can even actually do that.But I miss you. I keep getting tangled up in everyone else and losing sight ofus." 

Dirk squeezes her fingers. From him, it's as good as a hug. 

"Yeah," he says. "It's a plan." 

Roxy looks up at the night sky rather than try to put heremotions into words. There's a patch that looks a bit like a cat with wings, ifshe squints and takes some heavy artistic license. She holds up her phone inher right hand and adjusts the camera settings until she can snap a usefulpicture. She'll photoshop the constellation in later tonight and show it toDirk tomorrow: their friendship, immortalized in stars. 

"Cool," she says. 

They watch the pink moon overtake the white one in silence,fingers still entwined, the same air pumping in and out of their lungs. 

--------------------------------------------- 

End of Fic 

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It's still a little disjointed, I think, but whatever. Iwin. \o/