In the corner of the screen he saw his webpage was being viewed by 12 people, or at least 12 computer clients were receiving his live stream, a new record. Why? What was happening, what was so interesting? Why would the algorithm be suggesting his stream?
His dick was hanging out, that was probably why. He had taken his pants off in frustration. The unfinished clips in his nuclear bomb over Lyon and Putin suicide track were looping at full volume, the sirens and bomb alerts were going off out his window, the charts were piling up from the printer and painting mechanism behind him, the Italians were working away at their renaissance augmented version of the chart paintings in a picture in picture window in the bottom corner of the main video. Could it be all this, some kind of operatic spectacle of his existence, was he finally cool, was he finally making true cool art? Or was he just retarded and people were laughing at him. Art history tells there is not much of a difference. The important thing was that he was starting to feel a little bit better. Back in the groove. The chart was stabilizing, actually, he wasn't sure it was the bottom, but he thought it would at least be a local bottom. So he bought. The software prompted him to insert the second floppy disk into the auxiliary drive. It took a lot of different disks to keep the illusion alive, had he even smoked weed? It didn't matter now, he didn't need it. He was trippin good vibes, he admitted it, yes me, it saddens me, it is sad what happened, they were slut shaming her of course, ‘Helen Le Pen’, the bitch that launched the bomb on Lyon. Jofella’s trade was printing, he was happy, yes bitch cunt say some more fucking positive market stuff you fucking whore pump it. Putin cults were already developing, he was getting less edgy, people were buying, the sellers were finished. Jofella realized he really was one with the charts, all his depression and sadness and happiness was just movements of the chart. It was good in the rise now up stiff and hard, he looked down, he did have an erection, or was it the art? When he started feeling good about art, the live stream viewers, that made him happy, then he realized something, he started touching his cock, masturbating, for the live stream, then he paused, thought, no, no no, can't do it, Lalaidy would hate this, i can't hurt Lalaidy, must stop, he jumped up and pulled his pants back on and sunk down into the cuck chair. Okay ya good, we cool again. 
-Earl
