Friday, June 27, 2014

Rank & Vile

I've long since (maybe not so long) given up on social commentary, or at least using this outlet for social commentary, but every so often something appears that is so incredibly stupid that it merits mention.  In this case it's Ann Coulter (again) who has clearly lost her mind! 

Just click the link.  Read the article.  This has to be a miserably failed attempt at humor, right?  Or maybe someone hacked her site and added this.  It can't be real.  

Or, barring that, she caught herself stricken by the very beauty of the athletes, and stick legs in the air and clutching, found only something that snapped like rubber bands and smelled like a mountain of old tires -- and then driven mad with frustration sallied forth with another river of impotent, rageful idiocy.  

I just find it hard to accept that a human being could be so incredibly hateful or dumb.  

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Like a fat kid chasing an ice cream truck

I caught it.

How Spidey sees it.

FIFA World Cup 2014

My only commentary.  

When changes fail...

Can't even recall how many times I've played this, listened to this, posted this, shared this, sang this, cried over this, etc.

May this shovel, loose your trouble.
Let them, fall away...

What is it about Chris Whitley?  Maybe it's the sense of space around the notes.  Or the sustain at the end of a guitar run.  Or the way he hangs a lyric out like a spot in front of the sun.

Inspired by...

Girl Reading (Thinking of Edward Hopper) - Kiko Esperilla

Just a moment there, Bub...


Monday, June 23, 2014

A crisis of faith...


pretty much everything.

It started as a lapse. Then a series of lapses.  Lapso apso, motherfucker.  Not a relapse.  An extended period of disbelief in the whole process.  The dots connected sort of the way you would imagine a shit ton of freckles might one day connect and become a tan.

Fake it 'til you make it they say so I've been faking it.  Now I am weary of pretending that I care to be a part of it.

How long might this last? No clue. Another hour? A week? A year? Ten seconds? 

No clue.

But for the time being, just no.  I don't believe.

I don't believe in you.  Nor anyone else.

So I'm sitting here in front of the museum.  I am supposed to go east but west seems better.  Not home.  Just going.  Going somewhere or anywhere or really nowhere.  I want to find nowhere.


Germans wake up and do Ni Chi.

Saturday, June 21, 2014


Only the self-deceived will claim perfect freedom from fear...

But that's not an original idea, nor a quote from my own words.  You can Google it and learn something about me, but it's only a secret insofar as I don't show a badge, or wear a tee-shirt or shout it loudly from rooftops.  This blog only had two regular readers but it wouldn't make a lick of difference were there 10,000 or a million.  I'm not afraid of you knowing who I am nor where I've been.  You can't harm me more than I've harmed myself.  I fear me more than I fear you knowing who I am behind the armor and masks and weapons I once carried to conceal and defend myself.  The weight was too much bear.  I was done.

It's weird that you're stooped from the weight for so many years you don't even notice you don't walk up right anymore.  You let go and you're still bent and you might stay bent.  Your fingers are curled into hooks and don't go straight anymore, even with the load gone.

And the shots are still coming at you, but it doesn't matter anymore.  You've been bobbing and weaving and running and jumping and hiding and dodging for so long that you just don't give a single fuck.  And it's just another few clicks on the gear wheel between not giving one more single fuck, and freedom from fear.








Mama, put my guns in the ground.
I can't shoot them anymore.
The long black cloud is coming down.
It feels like I'm knocking on Heaven's door...

I'm not afraid of losing status or stature.
I'm not afraid they won't like me.
I'm not afraid this one or that one won't love me.
I'm not afraid of losing this thing or that thing.

So where does the fear lie?

It's like this.

Hell is the smell of your own bullshit.
Hell is not knowing why you are happy or unhappy.
Hell is never having enough to make you happy.
Hell is a perpetual cycle of nagging discontent.
Hell is being lonely in a roomful of people.

Hell is wanting to walk away from yourself and being stuck on the bottom of your own shoe.

So where does the fear lie?

Being back there.  I'm not going to get all holy roller on you, but there is something they say about how fear and faith cannot share the same roof, and all you really have to do is have faith that there is less to fear than you might believe and that's a start.  You can take or leave the God thing.  It's not my place to judge.  There comes a point though when you're done with yourself and you might need a place to turn.
I guess there are choices.

And I'm not even going to claim that it can't sneak up some days and whip my ass, but it's all relative.  I can get out of bed and take the whipping and keep going.  That's a start.


Monday, June 16, 2014

The Battle Cry...

Coming down Broadway hearing Scotland the Brave...

Saturday, June 14, 2014

I'm just wild about Harry...

“I never wanted to be well-rounded, and I do not admire well-rounded people nor their work. So far as I can see, nothing good in the world has ever been done by well-rounded people. The good work is done by people with jagged, broken edges, because those edges cut things and leave an imprint, a design.”
—Harry Crews

Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Sunday, June 08, 2014

Dum Dum

There's an advertisement on the rail of my e-mail page from that says in bold, second-coming size font:


Now, first of all, I don't think that God gives a good Goddamn (see how I did that?) if I find a match at all, and secondly...


After all the shit that I've pulled, I'm afraid of what God's match might turn out to be.

Thirdly, and lastly...

What the fuck was God doing before internet dating?

None of this sounds at all kosher to me.

Um... yah. Red light green light, 1, 2, 3...

Monday, June 02, 2014

Gray matter...


You wonder sometimes, after the fact and upon acquisition of new information or awareness, what is real and what is just a symptom of the disease.

And yes, that raises questions moving forward....

Gray matter...

Gray areas...