I revel in myself
with the simple phrase “I am.”

in this technicolor climate with city lights that blind so massive
an insidious canopy, puppeteering the masses with translucent threads made of impassiveness

I’m just another unorthodox soul sending smokescreen signals throughout the land
telling whomever listens that I’m worth a good goddamn

to flaunt one’s irregular imperfections so boldly is considered by many to be the work of dark magic


isn’t it tragic? for oppression to be so prominent without any mention of pragmatics?

I’ll keep growing into a galactic primadonna
pirouetting through vibrant nebulae
psych’o’delic wisps of cosmic slop swirling around my ankles
constellations forming from the curls of my fro’
dark matter fluff creating intergalactic diamonds in the rough

Yes I’m made of all of this and more, interestingly enough.

The Banished Ones vs The Aristocratics. I wonder, I wonder, who’s actions are truly more dramatic..?

“I am.”

maybe you too but I’m sure you already knew

thank you.


Grunt Work

This is what it’s like in the specter factory

It’s been said that our consciousness and knack for development is what sets modern humanity from the rest of our savage earthling brethren. While apes and quadrupeds scratch their asses and laze about all day, we gather our tools and craft masterpieces.
Nice thought in theory, but by that logic any unemployed, disabled, and lazy bastard could be grouped with the savage beasts.
Where does that leave me?

I guess I’m just a sucker in the specter factory

So crisp, so vivid does everything appear, I could reach out and grab a treasure. Yet my fingers slip through any object I desire. My presence does not occupy much mass. I Fear I may need an upgrade as soon as possible but I have no physical port to jack in and my trust in The Machine has waned dramatically over time.
If I were to ignore these facts, this is the best day of my life.

I guess I’m just a sucker in the specter factor

None of us care about longterm satisfaction as long as there are immediate gratification options. A brief surge of adrenaline, getting you higher and higher… then Boom. It’s gone. The way up The Ladder is paved with crackpot scheiße and requires a certain level of patience. It’s possible. But instead we use our tools for different matters. A voice subtly commands us each day: Grab your screwdriver, lackey! There are bolts to be screwed.
Inaudible but it’s there, every day.

I guess we’re all just suckers in the specter factor
Oh? Oh.

Black Dog Serenade

One of the constant nightmares of living amongst FullBlooded Americans is the need to keep them in sight at all times. But due to circumstances out of my control, I’ve been forced to classify any area outside of my household as a warzone of adverse indisposition.

Yesterday was the perfect blend of warm sun and autumn briskness that only the Midwest can bring forth. I went to the only non-corporationfartwater coffee shop in walking distance to get a mocha-latte-bullshitorwhatever and sit in a comfy overstuffed chair creased by many bottoms in the far corner of the shop to skim through some of the newspapers. The typical doom&gloom, ‘female celebrity has the audacity to show her ankles’, ‘young child does something adorable yet mundane’ fare, nothing interesting. You could hand me a newspaper from three decades ago and whiteout the dates and I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.

Somewhere over my shoulder I heard someone cough loudly and clear their throat a few times, and repeated a few moments later. I turned around and didn’t see who had coughed but saw a portly man waiting in the checkout line with massive sweat stains seeping through a short sleeved button up, with a skipped button in the middle that seemed impossible to conceive that someone could miss, glaring at a Sikh man sitting a few tables away from me. The Sikh Man sneezed suddenly, not having the time to react properly and spraying his nose residue throughout the air.

“What the fuck, man?” The Sweaty Man screamed from the other side of the room. Everyone in the shop looked up in shock. The Sikh Man looked at him and started to wipe his nose off on his sleeve. “Keep that ebola shit to yourself.”

There were audible gasps throughout the shop. The Sikh Man looked uncomfortable and mumbled what was probably an apology under his breath as walked up to the counter to grab napkins. The Sweaty Man dramatically took a step back as he approached.

“Dude, what did I just say? Keep that to yourself! Why don’t you use that rag on your head to clean up?”

A hush fell over the shop. I could hear a mouse pissing on cotton from the storage room.

The Sweaty Man continued making noise with his mouth that made as much sense as a Louie Gohmert dissertation, while the Sikh Man attempted to smooth things over in a thick accent, that didn’t help the situation. It’s hard to say if the other customers agreed with The Sweaty Man or just wanted to stay out of it. Either way, the vibes were getting progressively uglier and I didn’t leave my sanctuary for this.

“What is ebola exactly?” I asked, turning in my chair to face The Sweaty Man and crossing my legs.

He stopped mid sentence and looked at me as if I had just asked the most ridiculous question of all time, opened his mouth to speak and then closed it, seeming to think about the question. “Don’t be stupid. You know what it is! It’ll kill us all!” He pointed at The Sikh Man. “Especially if this fool doesn’t be more careful! He should be quarantined.”

Now I don’t know what kind of thought process it takes to hear someone cough and sneeze and have their mind immediately jump to “Oh my god, that guy has a deadly virus that’s going to end the world” and perhaps it’s best that I don’t. I don’t even remember what I said in response. Maybe I didn’t say anything. I just remember looking back down at the newspapers spread across the table, all with multiple “EBOLA CRISIS” headlines, and laughing. Laughing like I was watching an old rerun of Seinfeld.

This act of nonchalantness must have made him lose control of himself-possibly the first time in his privileged life that someone didn’t take him seriously- as he raced towards where I was sitting snarling wildly, practically foaming at the mouth: “HOW DARE YOU LAUGH AT ME, YOU ARROGANT LITTLE PANSY! LOOK AT ME. DO YOU SEE SOMEBODY YOU WANT TO MESS WITH?!”

His wrinkly outie belly button was a mere inch away from my face.

“I’ve seen about all I want to see, thanks.”

He backed away with a smug smile. “I’m glad you see it my way. I didn’t want to have to hurt you.”

“You should always trust your gut.” I said as I stood up and put the newspapers back on the rack.

So, there is indeed a quarantine in effect. But it’s not a physical disease I fear.

Like Smoke. I Know We’re No Good.

As I watch the news (by which I mean scroll twitter feeds and read up on status updates from friends on subjects mainstream media doesn’t have the ovaries to touch) I can’t help but feel. Feel that there is a concealed mathematical equation that determines that value of a human life that only a select handfew of people are privileged enough to see. An equation that was secretly drilled into our heads through questionable cockamamie Common Core lessons and gilded handmedown generational morals.

How else do you justify our fellow citizens, beings you frequently break bread with, doing everything in their warped psyche to justify the murders & persecution of persons who look like the faces standing next to themselves? How souls can sling mud at those who look just like them for not playing into laughably asinine respectability politics? How people have continuously treated each other horribly throughout the ages based on nothing more than ignorance & misdirected loathing?

& worst yet, there appears to be no end in sight. In time I have no doubt that the situation in Gaza will be forgotten like the horrors we started in Iraq, Afghanistan, and much of the Middle East. The full blown civil war in Ferguson, MO will be overlooked like the Trayvon Martins, Michael Dunns, and Renisha McBrides & thousands of other cases before them. Our trans&queer brothers/sisters/nonbinarysiblings will continue to be slain in cold blood without any media attention. And the vicious cycle will repeat itself.

Many revolutions in history (and certainly every one that I’ve been a part of) has failed and will continue to fail, while the Undeniable Evil grows more powerful by the second.

I hear often that I’m “too negative” and should be more optimistic.

Most of my heroes are dead and the human race may very well be on the verge of a catastrophic meltdown long overdue. Someone tell me how to be an optimist about this.

Because I’ve run out of ideas.

Blasé. No One Cares What You Say.

Over and over again I have said that there is no way out of the present impasse. If we were wide awake we would instantly be struck by the horrors which surround us… We would drop our tools, quit our jobs, deny our obligations, pay no taxes, observe no laws… Could the [one] who is thoroughly awakened possibly do the crazy things which are now expected of [them] every moment of the day?”      – Henry Miller, 1941

There is an Undeniable Evil presiding over our world.

Civil unrest and widespread warfare taking place in the Gaza Strip which a wide majority of our public is turning a blind eye or shrugging their shoulders in dismissal, a modern day Sodom & Gomorrah. There are cities here in america in such a dilapidated state they make post 9/11 -pre Jalal Talabani- Baghdad look like a 5-star island resort. Poverty, a vicious national problem, treated by the “1%” as a “Well that’s what happens when you do X, Y, Z. Tough shit” disease, a la HIV and lung cancer. Every time I overdraw my bank account I stare at the red numbers on the LCD screen and cringe, knowing that a whole network of folks are capitalizing on my lack of resources & watching their wallets grow fatter as mine falls apart.

The Undeniable Evil doesn’t even need to hide anymore, standing in plain sight and flossing $150 fresh Maine lobster meal remnants from between their teeth. They aren’t afraid of being found out. We’re too busy staring at our iPheces and complaining about being friendzoned to even notice what’s happening.

I often find myself overwhelmed by it all. I used to be able to roll up some grass, slip on my headphones & crank up Jimi Hendrix tracks, and tune out to the euphoric psychedelica.

But feigning ignorance has lost its thrill these days. Enough is enough, Goddamn it!  I want to start a revolution!!

but I’m not sure I’m ready for one. I’ve found some kind of deranged comfort in my anger towards the current state of things. A (mostly) unjustified superiority in knowing that I’m slightly more aware than most of the public.

So it’s either be Complacent & Miserable or Optimistic & Unsure.

I don’t know which state is more terrifying.

this is an Introduction.

I was standing outside on my back patio the other night looking up past the three 6ft fence walls that surrounded me, past the dirty whitewood clapboard siding of the condominium, and up into the night sky.

It was 3am. The sky seemed barren at first, the only objects immediately visible being the obvious ones anyone with a 3rd grade science education could point out. The moon. Polaris the North Star. Between those two points, nothing. As if god painted a canvas all black and left two spots unmarked to remember what color he started off with.

But I kept staring up there and after a while stars, planets, and other celestial bodies started to force their way into my vision. I’d be looking into a blank patch and a bright light would wiggle its way into position, like a person swaddled in a blanket and settling in to a comfortable spot on a couch. Why wasn’t I able to see it before? It so obviously belonged there, I couldn’t imagine it not being there and couldn’t unsee it. Day or night, that celestial object has always been there. I just couldn’t see it. Too distracted, uninterested, or whatever the case may be.

Go to a mall or walk around in your city’s metropolitan area and you’ll walk by many faces and bodies. But you probably won’t actually see them. They’re just mass, something taking up space and in your way. You’re too preoccupied with whatever is ruminating in your mind to give them much thought or attention. Tasks that need completed, meals to cook, material rubbish to purchase that you most likely don’t need, words roosting on the back of your tongue left unsaid to whomever. Absentminded & faraway. Just don’t bump into them, that would be rude.

So the sky appeared brighter and brighter as each “new” celestial body revealed itself to me and I started to search for patterns & constellations. An airplane flew by overhead heading off to whoknowswhere. The passengers on board were probably unaware that they were flying over Columbus, Ohio. From that height, everything on ground would be as indistinguishable as the bright lights floating above us all. Completely oblivious to all the life and energy buzzing underneath their feet.
But we’re here.

And I was there. Still trying to make sense of the clusters of white speckled across the vast black expanse. A shooting star darted by and disappeared as quickly as it came. I tried to think of a wish but my cigarette, smoked down past the filter, burned my fingertips causing me to forget that I even saw it.

I don’t know how to start a conversation, let alone a public blog.

On here I’ll be posting random musings, opinions (political or otherwise), anecdotes, & whatever else comes to mind.
I really don’t know what to tag this first post with. So the tags attached to this are a few of the topics I’ll be addressing as time goes along.
I hope you’ll join me on this journey.