There it goes, going through us. In our hearts, a schedule to prove out commodification of what is desired to be famous, or to make a living, either way or one.
Ever since the cheapening of our labour, we push ourselves against it. With no positive law of attraction to our mise en place, to goals that are a crapshoot to the marker.
Yet we self-publish anyway, into the abyss.
Completely freefall.