Better Than I Imagined

Posted at at November 21, 2020 on Saturday, November 21, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

If I could hold the world in my hands :

May the long time sun shine upon you 

All love surround you 

And the pure light within you 

Guide your way on 

May the long time sun shine upon you 

All love surround you 

And the pure light within you 

Guide your way on 

May the long time sun shine upon you 

All love surround you 

And the pure light within you 

Guide your way on 

Guide your way on 

Guide your way on 

Sat nam 

Sat nam

Sat nam

Posted at at November 17, 2020 on Tuesday, November 17, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Todo lo que se de un día existe aquí

Aquí, es ahora 

Me paro, ahora

Detengo el movimiento

Quietud, el mundo se detiene para que yo puede esuchar 

Este el cuerpo en el que vivo 

Lo conozco

Lo reconozco

Y al mismo tiempo, aún hay tantos rincones por descubrir 

Este es mi templo

La llave abre la puerta cuando mis ojos se cierran despacio 

Así abro los sentidos hacia todo lo que es 

Cuando este cuerpo de detiene

Aquí estoy 

Mis pies se apoyan en la tierra 

La Tierra me sostiene y mi eleva

La intención que triago en mis manos sostiene la verdad 

No siempre encuetro las palabras adecuadas

Claridad 

Transparencia 

Aquí es ahora

La vida es todo lo que fi , lo que soy

Todo lo que se de un día existe aquí

Y respiro, vivo



Posted at at October 06, 2020 on Tuesday, October 6, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

the house is old

I sit in another house whose character is
just now forming as we live here &
dust & scrub & clean & wash windows or
just live together now our enemies have gone

- enemies because that's what friends become
sometimes when they leave us or we leave them
& cast one another out of our lives like
leaves cluttering the lawn, the grass gone too.
--because we are sometimes difficult to live with.

we gossip sometimes & tear one another into
tiny rags we wear in preference to warm clothing
—furs & scruffy rugs made into hair boas
(like snakes) to wrap around us in the dark.

- enemy is not a word of hate, it's what we call
our lovers when we don't love them any more
now they've rejected us, we live here,
we think of the other house.

the house is old.

it's like an old person we are getting to know
for the first time, or the second

above the house a hawk dives down 
for a mouse beside the pond, beside
the garden, the rosa rugosa, the
blackberries, beside the house where
the faggots live with their friends.

Ron Schreiber

Posted at at June 25, 2020 on Thursday, June 25, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Heaven or Las Vegas



You can just barely see Willow Lake down there:



Posted at at May 31, 2020 on Sunday, May 31, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Rain



Years passed by
You don't know on my mind
I wished things could go back to the
Normal days, summer nights
What's on your mind
Moving on ain't always easy

Oh

When the rain start tumbling down
I wish I could turn back the hands of time for a little while

Oh

Nights like this I wish the rain would stop coming down
Coming down tonight

Hair turned grey, hearts grew cold
Bitter leaves are meant to heal now 
In your case its not that way I do hope
There will be a day
Where you will learn to love me again

Oh

When the rain start tumbling down
I wish I could turn back the hands of time
For a little while

Nights like this I wish the rain would stop coming down
Coming down tonight

What happened to that day
Where love would carry away
All the untimely rain and pain
What happened to the sun
I'm praying all the rain has gone

And I'm praying we'll forever feel like its a sunny day

Oh

When the rain start tumbling down
I wish I could turn back the hands of time for a little while

Nights like this I wish the rain would stop coming down

Coming down tonight

— Nicole Bus, Rain



Posted at at April 25, 2020 on Saturday, April 25, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Night Light

Every hardship is here to teach us how to dance with this life,
So if some sensation of failure rises up inside,
Remember what it means to shine your light.
Take. One. Deep. Breath.

How many times have you found yourself listening to some
Thought convincing you that nothing would ever get better?
How many countless moments 
Bound by such insidious fetters -
Substances, thoughts, fears, insecurities?

How many times have I railed at the world, at my child, my family?
Moments when hurting myself seemed to offer me some sort of sanity.

Inhale one deep breath with me.

And exhale; let your body just settle and rest.

Let the breathing be easeful and smooth,
Let this peace emerge from within you,
And let this quiet be your food, for a few more seconds.

This is how you cultivate a state of meditation.

This is when you bring coherence to your entire system.

And as you accrue time in this state of meditation,
This state eventually becomes your steadfast quality of being.

Even when things seem intolerably challenging.



Posted at at April 20, 2020 on Monday, April 20, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Lady Liberty

Hovering over the waters and watching civilization being built over and over again:

The dead rising from their graves.

The others, picking up shovels and helping dig.

Cities being built and destroyed.

And built and destroyed.

And built and destroyed again.

I’m like, this is taking a long time — why is this necessary?

Every single time, I watch an angry and ancient goddess who looks like the Statue of Liberty , rising out of the ground and destroying civilizations and men.

They attack her and she smites them all.

They try to bury her.

They try to encapsulate her in concrete.



But over and over and over again , she rises and demolishes everyone and everything in her path.

The people are black and white.

They have outdoor ceremonies.

Sometimes they worship Lady Liberty. And they are smitten again.

Sometimes it’s more peaceful and productive.

Then I’m starting to realize the purpose she serves:

To slay wicked civilizations and men who harm the earth and her people.

Posted at at April 19, 2020 on Sunday, April 19, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Hell: An Exhibit

I was excited to get to go see The Exhibit.


I already knew the punch line: We'd realize we were already dead and in Hell.

I have no pants on.

I kept getting kicked to the back of the line, only to be met with escalating and conflicting demands for methods of proving that I'd paid my admission price.

The first exhibit was the kitchen:

A dazed and distressed young woman who looked like a startled zombie paced back and forth mindlessly from the coffee maker to the fridge to rummage for something to eat.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

And so on.

A pile of chocolate chip cookies, soft batch, sweet and rotten, stacked high to the ceiling on the counter with flies buzzing everywhere around it.

Feed your addiction.

Eat the sugar.

Make that coffee.

Punch that clock.

Bring your ass back to the refrigerator and rummage and rummage and rummage all you want, you will never find anything in there that feeds the hunger inside of you.

A member of the audience giggles and claps her hands, bravo!

She says, "They might be in hell, but they've made it beautiful if they are."

I mimicked the zombie faces of the woman trapped in the kitchen.

Go to work.

Caffienate up.

Feed my addictions.

This pissed of one of the people running the exhibit and they came to bounce me out.

I said "oh please! I'm fascinated and I haven't even seen half of it!"

They grinned.

I asked "where's my backpack?"

I was no longer carrying my load.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

Allelula. Allelula. Allelula.

None of it mattered now.

[FIN]

Posted at at April 14, 2020 on Tuesday, April 14, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Things You Can Do out in the Desert

- See contrails for miles. ✈️
- Read a book by moonlight 🌙
- Track satellites with the naked eye. 🛰
- Remember your name, ‘cause there ain’t no one for to cause you no pain. ✅














Posted at at January 08, 2020 on Wednesday, January 8, 2020 by |   | Filed under:

Waiting for Hope



Romans 8 

24: For we are saved by hope: but hope that is seen is not hope: for what a man seeth, why doth he yet hope for?

25: But if we hope for that we see not, then do we with patience wait for it.

Posted at at November 29, 2019 on Friday, November 29, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

All my life I've (failed to) fight to stay.

I'm going to answer, protecting
It can be so hard to forgive
It's not what I thought, and it's not what I pictured
When I was imagining my man

You are so nervous all of the time,
living the classics
I know that imagining my man
Imagining, imagining my man

All my life I've had to fight to stay
You were right, love takes time, hey, hey

You have this dream, apparently I'm not done
I leave and it's dreadful
If you get there
Be honest, respectful

All my life (hey!) I never tried to stay
You were right, love takes time, hey, hey

I hope one day we will get that way
Lucky to be given the chance
I do not have the answer
But I don't have the wish to go back


Posted at at November 18, 2019 on Monday, November 18, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

The Day They Found the Cure

There’d be dancing in the streets, I’d thought, the day they found the cure.

 Our world would be better when we were all connected, or so I’d thought for sure.

 Did you ever spend your life fighting for something and then wake up one day to a headline announcing that it went your way or that we were all going to be okay?

 The change you wanted to see, the change you wanted to be in the world had arrived under the cover of darkness without any warning and the moment you waited your entire life for meant nothing to anybody, not even to you at this point.

 And so we buttered our toast and folded the paper up on the table for later as though we would ever have the time to sit down and read the rest of it before tomorrows edition arrived.

 The damage was done and not a damn thing in this world would ever wipe all of our cheeks dry but I’m going to be late for work if I sit here and dwell on this any more than I already have.

 Neither our victory nor our defeat were even worth a like or a retweet, it’s just that we all woke up one day and queers didn’t matter to anybody or even to each other anymore.

 Young men and women: “You’ve got to go to the city,” they’d said.

 “The world isn’t as stupid as where you are from.”

 I’ve been to the city, it turns out they are also quite dumb.

 And the only people left alive are what you and I have become.

Posted at at November 06, 2019 on Wednesday, November 6, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Postcards from West Texas

Some advice about digging trenches from a gentleman in Abilene:

The first week, you’re like oh no... woe is me, I’m in a trench.

The second week, it’s “fuck you God, for putting me in this trench.”

Week three: God, give me the perseverance to remain in this trench and keep digging.


Posted at at October 26, 2019 on Saturday, October 26, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Everywhere is my Bathroom

Some say that a toilet is a fundamental right
But McDonald’s lobby closes at 10 o clock at night
No Public Restrooms in the grocery store
I hear someone pissing all over the floor

I stared at him in horror
And my eyes got real big,
“Why not head over to Folsom
To find a watersports pig?”

A gentleman joins him and I avert my eyes:
“You must be new here,” he impatiently sighs
He squats down on Market and shits on the street
And some of it splashes all over my feet

I head to the Tenderloin ,
Near Felt and Van Ness
I’m trying to find an alley
To leave a big wet brown mess

Some junkie is watching, I expect him to cringe
He says I just left a hypodermic syringe
In my steaming hot offering
Under the Alvord Lake Bridge

I demand to see the mayor of this urine soaked town
(No problem sir, she will be right down)
Ms Mayor, I beseech you, this has gone way too far
She says “Try Uber Toilet, you just shit in the car!”

They’ll send one to you,
wherever you are:
You can leave them a tip,
and they’ll tweeze your brown star!

No thank you, I prefer to squat on a bowl
And wipe my bottom clean with a soft Charmin roll
Your sanitation problem is out of control,
I will see myself out of this filthy shithole

Posted at at September 08, 2019 on Sunday, September 8, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Kaleidoscopes

the difference
between a kaleidoscope and a telescope;

is that the telescope:
shows you reality from a distance

and the kaleidoscope:
shows you a distance from reality

Posted at at September 07, 2019 on Saturday, September 7, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

I sought him, but I found him not.



On my bed by night I swiped through profiles and sought him whom my soul loves; I sought him, but found him not.

I will rise now and go about the city, in the streets and in the squares; I will seek him who my soul loves.

I sought him, but found him not.

The Leathermen found me as I went about the city:

“Have you seen him who my soul loves?”

One of them asked if I’m into father/son role play: He paddled and flogged me and I reported him to child protective services.

I said to him: “I never liked my father.”

I sought him, but I found him not.

I created an account on Recon: They immediately banned me for saying that my fetish was “monogamy.”

I sought him, but I found him not.

I traveled to Europe in search of self destruction and romance: I was offered something called Meow Meow in Belgium and then I woke up at an orgy in Portugal.

I sought him, but I found him not.




My date from Grindr stole my wallet, car keys, and a wireless keyboard: He wasn’t even cute.

I sought him, but I found him not.

O, daughters of Scruff, I adjure you: by the incels and the hoes playing the field, that you not stir up or awaken love until it pleases.

Posted at at August 28, 2019 on Wednesday, August 28, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

3AM

3 o'clock, just can't close my eyes
Something's wrong with me
I can't deal, I can't go to sleep
There's something in my heart
The streets keep calling me

— Thundercat, 3AM

Posted at at August 02, 2019 on Friday, August 2, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Daddy



Daddy’s worth millions but he left you where he found you busting your ass working your second shift for the day in a restaurant off of some dirt road over in this rural town.

I’m not sure why you wish you were his and only his.

Maybe it’s the way he checks up on you.

Maybe it’s the way he keeps you from your friends.

Maybe it’s the way he keeps you at arms length and doesn’t give you what you want.

Doesn’t that just make you weak in the knees?

You say this man could change your life, if only.

You sound lonely.

Maybe someday Daddy will whisk you away to that factory town that the rest of the world rolls their windows up and holds their noses for and drives through as quickly as possible. Perhaps you can take a tour of the cannery together and learn everything there is to know about black beans.

And then what?

A quiet lifetime of whispering to faceless men a hundred miles away in their homes with their great big walk in closets in which they will neatly fold and put their sexuality away at night along with any scent or trace or memory of you before they kiss their wives goodnight?

Changing people’s lives doesn’t give you a lot to show for it other than changing people’s lives.

I wonder if Daddy ever thinks about the patterns in your irises when you’re not in his arms at night.

Posted at at July 14, 2019 on Sunday, July 14, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Eight rainbows in the Utah sky, watching clouds reflect in puddles as I’m driving by

Mormons believe that the earth will be renewed and rebuilt to its paradisiacal glory. I hope they carefully disassemble Utah, put it away in storage, and then put it back exactly the way that it is. Except maybe without the plastic litter.








Posted at at July 01, 2019 on Monday, July 1, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

An eye for an eye makes the whole world high



I feel raindrops falling washing off my tears
I been walking through a daydream all my years
Oh I do believe in world peace my dear, I do
Wise women will call your name
If you believe in impossible things
If you believe if it grows from seeds to a beautiful tree
What you want, what you want, you want
Sun don't shine
And we all know why
Bullets keep flying
So many shooting
In the darkest times
Through the darkest night
What you want what you want
Sun don't shine
And we all know why
Bullets keep flying
So many crying
In the darkest night
Through the darkest times
What you want what you want
I can feel it in the air it just grew thin
Then the numbers they be counting coming in
Do you believe in world peace my friend

— Kaytranada, Bullets

Posted at at June 28, 2019 on Friday, June 28, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Take this as you will.

Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, and have professed a good professionalismsn before many witnesses. 1 Tim 6:12

Whether our warfare be of the more public kind or of the more private sort, there must be warfare; and , more than this, there must be progress and victory, else we can never be accepted by the Lord as "overcomers."

Another thought should be borne in mind by us all. The Lord in making his estimate will take knowledge of the spirit which actuated us, rather than of the results secured by our efforts. In view of this, let us see to it, not only that we do with our might what our hands find to do, but also that our every sacrifice and gift to the Lord and his cause is so full of love and devotion that the Lord will surely approve it; as done from love for him and his, and not from vainglory.

Posted at at June 26, 2019 on Wednesday, June 26, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

The Lottery (A New Chatroom Owner is Nominated)

It’s Tessie,” Mr. Summers said, and his voice was hushed. “Show us her paper, Bill. “

Bill Hutchinson went over to his wife and forced the slip of paper out of her hand. 


It had a black spot on it, the black spot Mr. Summers had made the night before with the heavy pencil in the coal company office. 

Bill Hutchinson held it up, and there was a stir in the crowd.

“All right, folks. ”
 Mr. Summers said. “Let’s finish quickly. “

Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones. 


The pile of stones the boys had made earlier was ready; there were stones on the ground with the blowing scraps of paper that had come out of the box 

Delacroix selected a stone so large she had to pick it up with both hands and turned to Mrs. Dunbar. 


“Come on,” she said. “Hurry up. “

Mrs. Dunbar had small stones in both hands, and she said, gasping for breath: “I can’t run at all. You’ll have to go ahead and I’ll catch up with you. “

The children had stones already. 


And someone gave little Davy Hutchinson a few pebbles.

Tessie Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. “


It isn’t fair,” she said. 

A stone hit her on the side of the head.

Old Man Warner was saying, “Come on, come on, everyone. ” 

Steve Adams was in the front of the crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him.

“It isn’t fair, it isn’t right,” Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.

Posted at at June 19, 2019 on Wednesday, June 19, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

The night's still young even if we aren't anymore.

"I told Jeff about you and he asked who you are. I said you were the one where we were all driving down I-55 together somewhere in La Grange and you were throwing rocks and shit at a train. He went 'Oh, that guy!' "

“I told Jeremy about you. He said we're probably going to end up doing a bunch of ecstasy and breaking into a church and declaring our love for each other in front of a half broken Virgin Mary statue. It's almost like he knows us."

"The night's still young."




Posted at at June 15, 2019 on Saturday, June 15, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Rise

He said that he's had a very bad weekend. 
I didn't ask the question: I already knew. 

I said that I’ve had a lot of very bad weekends. 
And most of the other days were pretty bad too.



What's happenin' little brother

Are you (still) getting by?
On the corner everyday, you like the pain
Are you still (are you still), getting high?

Now I'm only your reflection
Deeply bothered chocolate soul complexion

Believe we’re going to rise again
Would you please tell a friend
To come on in
Take your time and make sure that you do it right

While the Cadillac lean from side to side
While I'm hangin' with my friends
Just to be alive is a reason to ride,
especially with my kin

Hit a little something that will feel it right
Just might hit it again
(just might hit it again)
Open your eyes don't you be surprised, when we start to win

Sometimes I want to feel like I'm the one in control (nothing to lose yea)
And take back every element of me that they stole (so hard)
I'll be fine when I heal my mind, body, and soul (Until then)
Take your time (take your time) and make sure that you do it right
(we'll be makin' moves)
Makin' moves while knowing God is on our side

While the Cadillac lean from side to side
When I'm hangin' with my friends
Just to be alive is a reason to ride,
especially with my kin

Hit a little something that will feel it right
Just might hit it again.
(just might hit it again)
Open your eyes don't you be surprised, when we start to win
(in case you didn't know)

I feel you all the time
(when is it gonna work out, I have no doubt)
Yes I do, I do
(this song is a dedication to the inspirational.. )

I know your grindin but I want you to keep in mind
Take your time and make sure you do it right
(make sure that you do it right yeaaa)

Makin moves while knowing God is on our side
(you gotta know, you just got to believe yea)
No one can make you want it more than you, so rise (don't you ever)

Don't give up the spirit of the phoenix, rise!
Don't give up the spirit of the phoenix, rise!
Don't give up the spirit of the phoenix, rise!

Martin Luther McCoy (Rise)

Posted at at April 07, 2019 on Sunday, April 7, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Mesmerized



Picture, if you will, a couple in a blue Toyota Prius from Wyoming,
shoving Pringles potato chips into their faces
She’s driving and he’s wearing an Argyle sweater,
looking like a millennial waifu with silver dollar sized eyes.
They’re both pointing at every object and building and person on Hollywood Boulevard,
talking excitedly.

I haven’t been that excited since the one time I dropped ecstasy and wandered into the produce section at Jewel Osco.

Marveling at the lucious red apples
Stunned by how bright and beautiful the yellows of the bananas were.
How vivid the tangerines and lemons and loose leaf spinach looked.

Staring at the sprinklers with the wonder of a child
As the PA system began to play “Singing in the Rain”
Singing in the rain,
Singing in the rain!
My rapture unbroken by the cashier asking me to please leave.
Oh my gosh, she was pretty!

They both have that look about them right now
Cruising past the Hollywood Walk of Fame
Mesmerized out of their minds and probably without ecstasy.
But then again, it’s Hollywood Boulevard
And this is within the realm of possibility

He favors the sour cream and onion flavor.
And hers look like they might be barbecue.
I’m so happy for the both of them today.
Like the weeds and the dandelions, love always finds a way.

And then picture, if you will, a guy in a white sedan from California,
Cruising down Peterson Blvd.
Mesmerized out of his mind, and possibly without ecstasy.
But then again I have some history
And this is within the realm of possibility

This time my observer is sitting in the car with me.
I’m blasting Leela James
Singing along, tapping my fingers on the wheel.
My heart yearns for a passenger in the seat
To kick it and banter and then go our separate ways
Ever so much lighter for such an interaction

I realize that a woman next to me is staring at me
And she is smiling.
I’m a little shy realizing that this time I’m the one in the car
With the out of state plates, being observed
I'm a little self-conscious but I keep tapping and I keep singing.

I was so happy for the both of them that day
And this elderly woman is looking at me that way today.
Some people are intuitive and sense that you are looking their way.
From the perspective of another vehicle in the exact same position today.

Her observer is a little like my observer, namaste.
And then we went our separate ways
Ever so much lighter for such an interaction
Like the weeds and the dandelions, life always finds a way.


Posted at at March 29, 2019 on Friday, March 29, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Day 1 Activation

I had a dream we were going to build another website again for some reason.

And you were there,
And you were there,
And (you) were there.

Excitedly, we raced around town in a sedan from one member’s door to another to whisper the news and get them into the car.

I began to reload a Linux operating system on a system and I watched the dots flash across the screen ....................................
....................................
....................................
....................................

We hurried off to Ashlyn’s house.

She wasn’t home.

Well, we’d better not tell her now anyway,

She might not understand or support this.

(Okay, let’s go.)

There are already seven of us ready.

Isn’t that enough?

(Why yes, I reckon that it is.)

Is she on board?

(Uh-huh. She’s using a new nickname and pretending she’s new.)

Is he on board?

(Uh-huh. Him too.)

What about her?

(No. She’s already on another site.)

What’s her excuse? I’m on about five of them that I cycle through all day long.

Things were going so well, I turned to one of them and said “You’ve never been here to see a day one activation, have you?”

She got really quiet.

I went back upstairs to resume my work.

Two of the others came upstairs looking for me and they seemed quite alarmed.

(“Day one activation.”)

(Why did he say that?)

(How does he know what that is?)

“You need to go to the hospital right now.”

“Why?”

“Our movements have torn a hole through you.”

“What?”

“Go downstairs. Right Now. We’re not kidding, we called an ambulance and they’re on the way. You have to go.”

(I was confused but I agreed.)

I got to the bottom of the stairs and saw the flashing lights outside of the front door.

(I opened the door.)

“Is this him?”

(Hm, I don’t feel so good. I held on to my stomach.)

I noticed the trail of blood and I blacked out.

Posted at at March 16, 2019 on Saturday, March 16, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Squeak, Squeak, Squeak went the sneakers... Clang, Clang, Clang went the bell



I started running through this very door at the Milwaukee County orphanage named after Aemelian.

Back then the double doors were wooden and green, with big brass Corbin bars you’d push on to open them.

Somewhere about two stories above, a silver bell with the word “Simplex” printed on it would ring and clatter furiously as your Velcro sneakers squeaked down the stairs.

I preferred running away when Robert was on duty. The only thing Robert could ever catch me doing was lying, such as when I’d deny being a homosexual to the other boys. 

I had a girlfriend and she was Black as HELL and her name was, um, Aisha!

Robert had started laughing and he asked me what color her eyes were.

I panicked and blurted out “blue!”

“Tell me how you kick your game to Aisha. What do you say to her when you call her up — like hi Aisha, do you want to come over and play? What do you say to Aisha?”

He had me so bad right front of everyone.

Twelve year old me bit my lip, and said very calmly, “Hey Aisha. Let’s get together and fuck sometime!”

That fat bastard dropped his flashlight and fell over on the floor crying and wheezing.

I never heard the end of it from the older Black men after that.

What’s up! You talk to AISHA lately? Gonna get together and fuuuuuck sometime?

I lived for that kind of shit.

Paradise awaited you just outside at the intersection of 89th & Capitol. There was a big and beautiful, if not somewhat foreign world I was a little too impatient to get out there and see for myself at that age. 

It was strange out there and it would always remain so.

My freedom was always short-lived and it would always remain so.

If it was cold outside I’d sleep in a little red shed behind the Open Pantry at 27th and Capitol, shivering and huddled up against the compressors blowing hot air into the shed from the beverage coolers inside the store.

I’d ask strangers for bus fare and steal things from the mall. 

Malls were heated, nobody asked questions.

I didn’t know about the rocks on the shore of Lake Michigan yet or it’s a sure bet I would have been found there every single time.

I remember being stoned at one of my first NA meetings when they read Step 10 out loud and got to that part about “making amends to the mall.

I sat there in my chair thinking “Hahaha! Never happening! They tore the mall down!!!!”

I befriended a boy around my own age named Drew, and I don’t know where his family was in all of this but he always had some family to spend the night with. Random strangers taking in a 12 year old with no questions asked. So many people coming and going.  I'm not saying that I know shit about the game or about invisible lives and invisible suffering but I've seen signs of it.

Drew liked me, he’d do funny things like whipping his dick out and waving it like a puppet and singing along to Mary J Blige’s “Sweet Thing.” 

Remember when that album dropped? Whenever I hear “Real Love” on the the radio and those first few opening ticks take me back there, I don’t know about y’all but I loved 1992.

Running away never really worked. You’d get hungry or you’d run out of money or something.

Adulthood turned out to be something along those same lines.

Except now that I'm all grown up, I don't have St Aemelian's to come crawling back to.

Off I’d go, back to 8901 W. Capitol.

Until the next time I eyeballed that door and my heart started pounding again as I jonesed for one more push of that beautiful brass bar.

One more clang of that silver Simplex bell.

One more squeak of my sneakers scuffing against that concrete.

One more clack as the doors at the bottom burst open.

One more breath of freshly cut grass in someone’s yard in Wauwatosa.

Never gonna catch me, I’m the Ginger Bread Man.

We'll do it all over again until the Ginger Bread Man is tired and dirty and hungry again.

Posted at at March 09, 2019 on Saturday, March 9, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

A Rude Awakening

“He picks us up like a needle on a record and puts us in another groove.”

I heard him.

The guy stared at me and asked me if I understood what he meant.

I said “no.”

They were making fun of him outside:

"I just.. can't with him. I had to walk out on him."

I snapped a picture of someone's mean tweet because I was interested but I was only half listening at first and I missed the first part that she tweeted about.

I read her tweet, thought about it for a minute, went back inside, and said “Hey Rainbow?”

“Yeah?”

“God rides me like a hood rat in a stolen Camaro.”

He laughed.

I left.

And then about ten minutes later it clicked.

I went back to that bitchy meeting and raised my hand:

“God rides me like a hood rat in a stolen Camaro.”

A couple of the mean tweet crowd snickered.

I continued:

“He picked me up like a needle on a record and he put me in another groove. Fuck, that made my night."

The chair said “mic drop!” and I left again.

Posted at at January 25, 2019 on Friday, January 25, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Bitch I’m Shakira



Posted at at January 15, 2019 on Tuesday, January 15, 2019 by |   | Filed under:

Renascence

"How do you like living in Los Angeles?"

"Uh... well. I didn't think I was going to be your Uber driver when I grew up. But when I look at the smoldering ruins of the life I left behind, I suppose this is a blessing."

Posted at at December 18, 2018 on Tuesday, December 18, 2018 by |   | Filed under:

Lonely Soul

God knows you're lonely souls
God knows you're lonely souls
God knows you're lonely souls

I believe there's a time and a place
To let your mind drift and get out of this place
I believe there's a day and a place
That we will go to, and I know you want to share.

There's no secret to living
Just keep on walking
There's no secret to dying
Just keep on flying.

I'm gonna die in a place that don't know my name
I'm gonna die in a space that don't hold my flame.
God knows you're lonely souls
God knows you're lonely souls.

I believe there's a time when the cord of life
Should be cut, my friends (Cut the cord, my friend)
I believe there's a time when the cord can be cut
And this vision ends (Let this vision end).

But I'm gonna die in a place that don't know my name
And I'm gonna cry in a space that don't hold my name.

Walking in the cold
Just keep on flying
There'll be a searchlight
On the mountain high

God knows you're lonely souls
God knows you're lonely souls
God knows you're lonely souls
God knows you're lonely souls

I'm a lonely soul.
I'm gonna die in a place that don't know my name
I'm gonna die in a place that don't know my name.
God knows you are lonely souls
Lonely souls
Lonely souls
Lonely souls
I'm a lonely soul.

So long, little chapel
Sweet is the sound
Pack up your light
Pack up your light
Say goodbye to the Holy water life
Sweet sound, in and out
Pushing it out
Pushing it in

— Unkle, Lonely Soul

Posted at at October 08, 2018 on Monday, October 8, 2018 by |   | Filed under:

The US-101



Just as I thought I had finally broke free
I saw three miles of taillights in front of me 
The city was so grey today
And I’d almost reached the sun 
But it was bumper to bumper on the US-101

There’s an exit to the right.
I’d turn on my blinker,
But it’s not polite to do that on the US-101

Traffic inches forward on a one way street
Lined with clapboard houses I could never afford
Oh Lord, you won’t even buy me a Honda Accord
The street signs have an italicized cartoon font 
You can even live here if you want 
There’s Sothebys and Keller and Century 21
With convenient beachfront access and the US-101

There are no restaurants here,
There are no stores.
I wonder what people in this town even eat.
They must breathe in the air and get the nutrition they need from their earbuds and iPods as they jog with their dogs 
Making better time in the bike lane
Than all the people like me
Trying to break free
From the traffic situation on the US-101

I’m being passed by a skateboard
The occasional bike 
A waving shirtless jogger
Some guy in a green Prius
Who must think that his car is a bike
I’ll see him again soon on the US-101

At every other intersection
A disembodied voice says “turn left here.”
No thank you. 
I am not going anywhere near the US-101

Until I reach the reason for the delay:
A woman with a wrecked Mercedes
Being towed away 
Second driver today
Who had managed to have spun
Across all three lanes of the US-101

Wrapping a fur coat around her tightly 
It’s cold outside but she looks okay 
Her yellow lab is relaxing in the sun
With his tongue sticking out,
Tail happily wagging 
It looks like he’s been having fun today
On the US-101

Top down at the rest stop in Gaviota
With a wide open throttle
Escaping the last several inches
of the traffic and the smog from LA
Where the freeway ends 
The PCH begins
And I have exactly three hours left
Until the ranger chases me away

Posted at at May 22, 2018 on Tuesday, May 22, 2018 by |   | Filed under:

A Journey from Here to There to Here

Look up at the stars,
Look up at the moon.
Only you know 
(And they know)
What they have guided you through.







Posted at at April 24, 2018 on Tuesday, April 24, 2018 by |   | Filed under:

Well, then

Nacuntie called it.

All we did was cuddle.

I don’t have a problem with that. I like to cuddle.

He made sure to let me know that he’d only be into sex with me. 

No strings though, he informed me that he’s “quite a catch" and can do better than me.

I laid there in bed calmly painting a mental canvas.

He's two days sober. Ain’t working right now because he's in treatment.

He left his last boyfriend to go shack up with someone he ran off to use with.

Who then overdosed and died.

So that's like zero for two for the last two boyfriends you were such an awesome catch for.

I might actually be the one you can't kill or break, dude. 

Anyway I’ll sit here and calmly take this story you have to tell and I’ll hold it in my hands with you.

We could have just left it at that with our clothes on.

I didn't bring up sex. I didn't bring up dating. I didn't go there with any of this.

Under almost any other circumstance I'd grind my teeth a little, politely thank you for your hospitality, and catch an Uber home. This time I didn't.

He was all anxious and freaked out and he said that me being there was helping him.

He snuggled up against me and started snoring.

Ah you cracked out fucking fool.

Posted at at November 29, 2017 on Wednesday, November 29, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

“A Dumpster in Connecticut”

I don’t even know what TV show they’re watching in the living room but I overheard a snippet:

“You ever notice how all of his stories are like, this one time, I got so wasted? Or, this one time, I woke up in a dumpster in Connecticut?”

I usually ignore the TV, but —

I snorted a little too loudly at that for reasons I would rather not elaborate on.

Posted at at November 28, 2017 on Tuesday, November 28, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

If nobody has told you they love you today, stop being an asshole.

When I’m lying next to you,
I can’t help but think what life would be like
With a person like you
Somehow I think only you would do 
We’ve been friends for years now 
Somehow I think it wasn’t meant to be
The first time we saw each other 
We stared with the gaze of lovers

You 

stay 

on my mind

Time keeps on passing us by

It wasn’t meant to be 
Time keeps on passing us by

It wasn’t meant to be 
Time keeps on passing us by 

— Cuba Luna

Posted at at November 27, 2017 on Monday, November 27, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

What do you dream about?

I was sitting down next to someone in a dream, kicking it and talking about whatever we were talking about.

He wanted to tell me everything that he dreamed about, and it was more or less a normal life with the woman and the house and the two and a half kids and the cars.

He was a nice enough fellow but I was lost in thought as he spoke and I know he could tell that I didn’t relate to anything he was saying.

He stopped talking and I told him it was okay and that hearing about his dreams and what makes him happy makes me happy.

He asked me “What do you dream about?”

I thought about it for a second, thinking, well, this will be awkward.

I started off hesitantly: “I dream that you exist.”

I continued: “And I dream that I exist.”

Posted at at October 19, 2017 on Thursday, October 19, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

My hearts on fire


I was just talking about shroooming with an old friend a million years and a million miles ago. Here's one of the tracks off of that Redemption album:




I ran into him on 18th street in San Francisco this morning and gave him a gigantic bear hug.

I'm so happy I could cry, that made my morning.

I stopped for an early meeting on the way home. 

I was hoping nobody would know me, but I looked around the room and quickly realized that I'd already been passed around this group like the Seventh Tradition.

Fuck.

The first person is supposed to pick a topic.

Instead he rambled on and on.

A few shares later someone said they'd forgotten what the topic was.

I said "Mark" under my breath.

I heard a few familiar old chuckles.

Ahhhh admit it, you're as happy to see me as I am you.

Posted at at May 28, 2017 on Sunday, May 28, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

Oh well.

The speaker came up to the podium and announced that he'd relapsed on meth for one weekend and caught gonorrhea, chlamydia, syphillis, *and* HPV.

He received a raucous whistling and cheering standing ovation for that.

Only in Los Angeles.

Some guy sat down next to me, grabbed a hold of my hand, and informed me that I'm his boyfriend now.

I shrugged and said "okay."

He leaned in close to me and whispered "smoking crack is like getting hit by a bus!"

I burst out laughing.

Unfortunately, at that very moment, the speaker had just said that his uncle passed away.

It looked like I was laughing uncontrollably at that.

Oh well, nobody likes me anyway.

Posted at at April 23, 2017 on Sunday, April 23, 2017 by |   | Filed under:

A dirty bottle washes ashore ...

A dirty bottle washes ashore:

It says "Help me, I'm in over my head."


Help me, 


Help me, 

Help me get to heaven and back again.

Posted at at July 09, 2016 on Saturday, July 9, 2016 by |   | Filed under: