I recommend you don’t read this, it’s just the beginning of seasonal depression setting in.
“As democracy is perfected, the office of president represents, more and more closely, the inner soul of the people. On some great and glorious day the plain folks of the land will reach their heart’s desire at last and the White House will be adorned by a downright moron.” ― H.L. Mencken
“America is the wealthiest nation on Earth, but its people are mainly poor, and poor Americans are urged to hate themselves. To quote the American humorist Kin Hubbard, ‘It ain’t no disgrace to be poor, but it might as well be.’ It is in fact a crime for an American to be poor, even though America is a nation of poor. Every other nation has folk traditions of men who were poor but extremely wise and virtuous, and therefore more estimable than anyone with power and gold. No such tales are told by the American poor. They mock themselves and glorify their betters. The meanest eating or drinking establishment, owned by a man who is himself poor, is very likely to have a sign on its wall asking this cruel question: ‘if you’re so smart, why ain’t you rich?’ There will also be an American flag no larger than a child’s hand – glued to a lollipop stick and flying from the cash register.
Americans, like human beings everywhere, believe many things that are obviously untrue. Their most destructive untruth is that it is very easy for any American to make money. They will not acknowledge how in fact hard money is to come by, and, therefore, those who have no money blame and blame and blame themselves. This inward blame has been a treasure for the rich and powerful, who have had to do less for their poor, publicly and privately, than any other ruling class since, say Napoleonic times. Many novelties have come from America. The most startling of these, a thing without precedent, is a mass of undignified poor. They do not love one another because they do not love themselves.”
― Kurt Vonnegut,
“It’s time to rise, it’s time to walk the road of freedom, It’s time to throw off the yoke of oppression, Break free the chains n regain control of our destinies. It’s time 4 REVOLUTION”- Huey Freeman from The Boondocks
I’ve been writing a lot the past two days. I promise to be original soon. While I compartmentalize, enjoy my hero’s writing on what is going on. Sorry America. Sorry Women. I love you all.
I don’t know what you text to a girlfriend this morning and I sure don’t want to find out through trial and error. Last night, she never came over because an hour into the election, at the sight of the first numbers, she stopped knowing how to interact with the world and couldn’t get out of bed. I share that deeply private fact without fear of embarrassing her, not because embarrassing women was legalized in last night’s referendum, but because she’s numb. If I texted her for permission to share her numbness, I’d get the same response as if I asked her to eat a submarine. “Okay,” she’d reply. “I’m going to try to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
Dear morning newscaster,
Police in riot gear shooting people with rubber bullets and throwing tear gas and “flash bang things” at them is not the same as police trying to calm people down. Your emphasis on how calm the police wanted people to be can’t exist in the same sentence as, again, “flash bang things”.
I have this journal that I neglect to keep. The greatest thing written in it simply reads as follows,
“Fight seasonal depression”
It appears to have been immediately crossed out. It is the only thing written on a whole page.
Socialist Jew writing about a socialist Jew mayor who is now running for president. Sharing because sharing is caring. That is all. #FeelTheBern
Socialist snow on the streets
Socialist talk in the Maverick bookstore
Socialist kids sucking socialist lollipops
Socialist poetry in socialist mouths
—aren’t the birds frozen socialists?
Aren’t the snowclouds blocking the airfield
Social Democratic Appeasement?
Isn’t the socialist sky owned by
the socialist sun?
Earth itself socialist, forests, rivers, lakes
furry mountains, socialist salt
Isn’t this poem socialist? It doesn’t
belong to me anymore.
Allan Ginsberg, 1986
Human beings have an instinctive draw to color, remnants from the days when life had to be earned and each plant and animal was a serious life or death situation. Our brains fire different chemical signals based solely upon the color pattern our eyes receive, hence fast food restaurants are coated in shiny reds and yellows which literally make you feel hungry. A college study has linked the color blue to more creative thinking patterns. So we, as a consciousness, have built-in responses to our perception of the color-coding of our world. It only makes sense, we need every signal we can get to help us sort out the fundamentals of living a human life. As we draw out away from the singular insanity that is one human, we have to look at how society has further used color to denote value and create symbols. The color purple was a sign of royalty in medieval and renaissance Europe, East Asian countries tend to wear vibrant whites to funerals, and the hippies discarded the crisp colors of their fathers and mothers in favor of vibrant swirls (which would become more indicative of their own hypocrisy than their melding of cultural ideas). Color has always been a method by which humans have sorted and made sense of the world, it is one of the sole universals (minus the disadvantaged males whose chromosomal makeup denies them this right) through which we can validate our existence and that of others. That idea is what gives those who manipulate it so much power.
Macklemore is the accessible, friendly neighborhood rapper. Eating a cheeseburger without knowing how it’s made. An entrance point for cultural appropriation, a real Ellis island for white people to re-conquer their lost African jewel. Maybe this isn’t a bad thing. The struggle of African men and women has produced the largest amount and the most crucial high points of American music culture. That sounds like a negative thing to say. It sounds wrong to say Macklemore is the tip of the whip being cracked, the first blow from the ruling class, the call for the best of black culture to be held up to the screen, the light, the temple, the inquisitor, the beginning of the great census leading back to Bethlehem. “White people move through resources quickly” seems to be the message of Macklemore, ” start preparing the next thing we are going to want to have.”
This is me at my most… Masochistic. Wait, sorry that’s Kill Bill, this is me at my most honest. I’m sitting on the toilet, sweaty from working in a kitchen, contemplating the serious issue. The issue I thought too stupid to consider. What if Donald Trump does become president? What if, by simply being able to scream the loudest, the idiots win?
But this is only the tip of a far larger iceberg, a far more dangerous idea, the kind of crime that would launch one to the top of the thought police’s most wanted list. To continue reading is heresy. Let us take the tool most loved by modern society, the dichotomy, and categorize people by the most basic of assumptions. There is only two basic states of being, fear people and love people. I shall describe fear people only, and you can come to realize that love people simply means those who live without fear. To be a love person is an ideal, a challenge one must constantly strive for. Fear is a base emotion, it’s what the game of peek-a-boo runs on, it’s kept humanity going forever. So as I begin bashing on a sector people who have made fear define them, understand that having fear and belonging to fear are in fact different.
Fear people are driven by ignorance. Fear people think it actually is a small world. Fear people’s every action is prefaced with the thought “I don’t want to die”. The “I” is more important in that thought than the “die”. Fear people live in small towns and think themselves worthy targets of terrorist attacks. Fear people are solipsists, but incapable of recognizing that. Fear people are proud to replace intellectualism with barbarism. Fear people are simply those who cannot be faced with an unknown. They truly believe that that which they cannot comprehend must therefor be hostile. Their ideals are confirmed every time human life is lost, because death, being so against being able to feel fear, must be the worst possible thing. Their fear confirms each morning they are alive. Best of all, fear is easy to commercialize, and each morning fear people can wake up and confirm their fears with their morning spray-tanned botox anchorperson.
Being a fear person is not a crime. In fact, the fear people have essentially won. They exist in far greater numbers. But that doesn’t mean it is ever something to be proud of, and it certainly can’t be something a night terror is allowed to build a fucking political platform out of.
(This rant has had the misfortune of not being finished in one day, and much of the fire went out of my belly recently. I can only apologize. I will update the definition of fear person as I get into a more manic (and therefore angry) disposition.)
I woke up this morning knowing I’ve been neglecting this blog for the past few months, and so my first action was to grab a cup of coffee and head straight to my good friend’s photography blog. Michael, Mike, Moldy Eye, Shirtless, Human Punching Bag, Demonic Fishpicking Maniac, WOOOOmanizer, Yogi, cereal magnet, world traveller, spiritual guru, the list of titles this man has is essentially endless. This of course is because Continue reading