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The little things that break

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In seven days, the electricity companies will collude to bring down the usage rates of power. They see this as an absolute win for consumers. The rhetoric is excellent news for all involved. Usage costs are down.

But the daily supply charge of which no number of solar panels, batteries, and auto-magic energy saving appliances cannot save you from? Up 60% in the case of the retailer who currently "supplies" my premises with electricity.

I am willing to bet an enormous amount of money that the employees of that company aren't getting a 15% year on year pay rise for 2 years, let alone four years, for such an absolutely unjustified increase in costs. Sure diesel and data centres are costing a lot more money, but there is also a lot more avenues for electricity companies to make a profit that should be on the consumption side, not on an optional supply side.

I'm fucking sick of being gas lit by people within organisations who think that they are very smart and have some very comfortable wool which, if I please, could place over my eyes. I'm angry at the small, little things like these.

I'm angry at the bulk of my hobbies becoming increasingly expensive and inaccessible.

I am angry at the increasingly blatant inflation, shrinkflation, cost cutting and erosion of quality in products, which becomes more and more prominent and more and more obscene as time goes on. Eventually, I'll only get a simulacrum of the object I want.

"Frozen snack", instead of "ice cream".

"Sea creature" instead of "fish [species]" portion.

I am angry at people who walk slowly in the middle of the street, ignorant to the stamping of my boots as I try to accelerate past them to try and get to the train so I do not need to spend thirteen hours outside of the house.

I am tired of becoming comfortable only to be disturbed and move into a region of discomfort. I am tired of the incessant meaningless and pointless sonder of others, wrapped in insignificant and unenlightening activities that hold them back from the very thing that they gaze at with dead eyes, illuminated by a fierce setting sun.

I'm sick of people not being people to each other. Not allowing themselves to talk about their vulnerabilities, feeling distrust when sharing their deepest fears with each other. I struggle and mourn at the young I observe, their smiles and small moments of joy to be shattered upon the shores of expectations and crushed by the mighty gears of capitalism.

I despair at the pregnant belly of a glowing passerby, not wanting the world into which the innocent child will be born.

I trudge through the literal mud on the way to my home, through unfinished housing estate littered with the leavings of irresponsible, lazy dog owners who do not pick up the shit their creatures leave on the soil. In this weather, not even the flies want to feast upon the banquets of nutrition unused by the canine.

I approach my letter box, with its no junk mail sign ignored by politicians, real estate agents, and local attempted entrepreneurs who either gleefully cannot read, or do not respect my wishes to not be disturbed by their tree-killing paraphernalia.

Returning to my nest, I await the moments to tick into tock for the next day to arrive to witness again whatever new horrors the capitalistic illiterati have to bestow upon my increasingly limited cognitive capability.

Cortisol is in high supply, but no one is buying.

found at the train station this morning

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