You know I looked at that little Twitter tantrum last night and I thought two things. First, I think the real sin in the Politico interview and the book is that they talk about my activist history, the fact that I've stuffed myself into buses to ride to DC and shouted outside state legislator offices in Albany and handed out leaflets and gotten permits and worked a phone bank and spoken at press conferences. Because your class doesn't do that; your class just tweets; that's the extent of your political engagement. I organize to do politics. I wrote the book to do politics. I write for newspapers and magazines to do politics. It's not much but it's all I can do, and it's more than posting guillotine gifs on Twitter to get the same tired likes from the same few dozen obsessives.
And that was the second thing - do you guys know what year it is? Who the fuck does yelling tweets about socialism in 2023? How long, exactly, are you going to hold on to the dream of 2016? How bad does Elon have to make things before you jump ship? Are you going to be in your 50s saying "haha totally corncobbed dude"? What's your exit plan?
You don't care about me. You don't care about what I did to Malcolm Harris. I think I am the last person on earth who actually does care about what I did to Malcolm Harris and is dedicated to remembering it and what it means. That's been my work to do, as has dealing with all of the consequences of my behavior - and, if you actually give a shit about the truth, that means that I got back into treatment, started the most aggressive program of drugs of my life, have stuck with the same psychiatrist for six years, saw a social worker, do psychoanalytic therapy, do cognitive behavioral therapy, did group therapy, do support groups, was sober for 18 months and have totally changed my relationship to alcohol, went away for three years, donated thousands of dollars to RAINN and raised tens of thousands more with my readers, and have apologized again and again, saying as I am saying now that I am individually and personally responsible for what happened, no matter my mental state, and that I have had to live with all of those consequences and tried to rebuild my life. Because there's nothing else I can do.
But do you really care what I said about Malcolm Harris six years ago? I don't think so. Fixating on that is just a means to the end of hating me, and hating me is just a means to an end of sharing anger and bitterness with people you don't really know. None of this has anything to do with me. Years ago you plugged yourself into a network of bitter and hateful people and called it politics. And I feel for you. You all wanted things, you didn't get them, and the only place you know where to pour your anger and dissatisfaction is into Twitter and, when convenient, me. And I'm telling you, as one human being to another - flee. Get out of there. Move on with your life. That network will never make you happy. It's just going to keep dragging you deeper and deeper into your own pit of resentment and hatred. People get trapped in rage Twitter and never escape. It's an ugly, sad place. And I think you know that. As one human being to another: get out. It will never comfort you.
Or screencap this and post it for Twitter, playing off my unpopularity to get a few desultory digital strokes, then go back to another day at the hate factory. It's up to you man. I am moving forward with my life as I have tried to do for six years.
https://www.theonion.com/hey-i-know-i-haven-t-posted-any-new-music-for-a-while-1850708812
didn't the last time you trolled people online end up in a serious life changing disaster for you freddie
You know I looked at that little Twitter tantrum last night and I thought two things. First, I think the real sin in the Politico interview and the book is that they talk about my activist history, the fact that I've stuffed myself into buses to ride to DC and shouted outside state legislator offices in Albany and handed out leaflets and gotten permits and worked a phone bank and spoken at press conferences. Because your class doesn't do that; your class just tweets; that's the extent of your political engagement. I organize to do politics. I wrote the book to do politics. I write for newspapers and magazines to do politics. It's not much but it's all I can do, and it's more than posting guillotine gifs on Twitter to get the same tired likes from the same few dozen obsessives.
And that was the second thing - do you guys know what year it is? Who the fuck does yelling tweets about socialism in 2023? How long, exactly, are you going to hold on to the dream of 2016? How bad does Elon have to make things before you jump ship? Are you going to be in your 50s saying "haha totally corncobbed dude"? What's your exit plan?
You don't care about me. You don't care about what I did to Malcolm Harris. I think I am the last person on earth who actually does care about what I did to Malcolm Harris and is dedicated to remembering it and what it means. That's been my work to do, as has dealing with all of the consequences of my behavior - and, if you actually give a shit about the truth, that means that I got back into treatment, started the most aggressive program of drugs of my life, have stuck with the same psychiatrist for six years, saw a social worker, do psychoanalytic therapy, do cognitive behavioral therapy, did group therapy, do support groups, was sober for 18 months and have totally changed my relationship to alcohol, went away for three years, donated thousands of dollars to RAINN and raised tens of thousands more with my readers, and have apologized again and again, saying as I am saying now that I am individually and personally responsible for what happened, no matter my mental state, and that I have had to live with all of those consequences and tried to rebuild my life. Because there's nothing else I can do.
But do you really care what I said about Malcolm Harris six years ago? I don't think so. Fixating on that is just a means to the end of hating me, and hating me is just a means to an end of sharing anger and bitterness with people you don't really know. None of this has anything to do with me. Years ago you plugged yourself into a network of bitter and hateful people and called it politics. And I feel for you. You all wanted things, you didn't get them, and the only place you know where to pour your anger and dissatisfaction is into Twitter and, when convenient, me. And I'm telling you, as one human being to another - flee. Get out of there. Move on with your life. That network will never make you happy. It's just going to keep dragging you deeper and deeper into your own pit of resentment and hatred. People get trapped in rage Twitter and never escape. It's an ugly, sad place. And I think you know that. As one human being to another: get out. It will never comfort you.
Or screencap this and post it for Twitter, playing off my unpopularity to get a few desultory digital strokes, then go back to another day at the hate factory. It's up to you man. I am moving forward with my life as I have tried to do for six years.