What Umbrella does this fall under

 Hello everyone, this is Refried. I just listened to an excellent lecture about Sudanese history.  Wow, it was amazing, way to go.  

I also ate some food and am now waiting to go to my support group in about an hour.  Definitely there were some ups and downs in this group the last few times, but I am giving it another chance.

I am thinking of writing something about my publishing status and having life pass by me without acceptance of my writing in the United States.  I attended a presentation yesterday about how writing works best as a gift economy.  The idea was to not let capitalist ambition ruin the outreach of it.

The talk resounded with me, but I also have been a bookseller and have an idea of the point of distribution and how the exchange of twenty dollars can facilitate that more abstract transfer of priceless stories and ideas.  So I don't know what to think, except my work was always meant as a gift, and it has now been rejected at all levels.  Agents had a chance, publishers had a chance, and finally after doing self publishing and facebook ads, regular people could have vetoed the whole industry's offensive failure. But my numbers are zeroes, and here I sit in poverty. Of course we already established that it isn't about the cash, but it is suspicious for me to have done twenty years of work and still be at some kind of starting gate.

Well I have something to say to anyone who defends it.  If you believe the gatekeepers were just doing their job, I will repeat this horserace analogy where the gun fires, the horses take off, and one contestant's gate simply isn't opening. Is it a malfunction? Would anyone say the whole race's results are in question now? I am not sure I have heard that theory from anyone in my own case. All we really have is a peaceless, ruined society and a profession full of rivals who couldn't be happier that I was left out.

That was the pandemic scenario. Now, five years later, here is a different analogy. In this precious gift economy, I bought everyone in America a kitchenaid mixer with the color of their very own preference. But every single person has smashed that thoughtful gift with a sledgehammer on video.  And every day, I go on facebook and watch those videos, and that is my life and will be until the day I die, which is in a mere four years because of the nature of the sacrifice I made behind my literature that was rejected. That is my experience of the gift economy.  Well maybe you don't celebrate the holiday that my gift was for. Maybe you thought it was for Ramadan because I voted for a Muslim in the NYC mayor election.  Maybe your parents didn't take you to church, and maybe your school didn't teach you to appreciate poetry.  Maybe you can't read this blog post because facebook algorithms blocked you from being reminded to hate me.  Maybe people in heaven are reading all my books right now, and the rain is their spit.