Saturday, March 28, 2015


Dark days, brighter night,
I'm not in Alaska bitches, just under my blanket with a light. 
Reading a story to take me away,
Put some hope in my mind, I could be that someday.
Closing my eyes, that won't stay open anymore,
I drift away like a body in a morgue. 
A few hours away from the anger and noise,
Sleep is my friend, shelter in the storm. 

Happiness eluded me most of my life,
Childhood left me buried under mountains of strife. 
Dealing with fear that was fucking intense,
I just wanted to be a hippie chilling out in some tents. 
Not the past or the future - I'm presently present
Now handing out context to the emotional peasants. 

But they see me differently, a fucking mind that is bent. 
Not broken, just warped, 
A bonsai tree that you wrecked.
Trimming away, till I grew past your reach,
Grabbing the reigns, snatching the keys,
I'm in the drivers seat running, pinned back by the Gs,
Shaking it off, dropping some leaves,
I'll leave this scene when every bit of me's seen.

They keep yelling cut, I go on while they scream. 
This isn't an act but I can't make them believe.
Like an existential Katrina - they won't stop looting,
Shooting the safe ones that keep on moving. 
The lights burned out, the fucking lenses are cracked,
The cyclone of dust scratches every cell in the mag. 
No second shot, I'm a one hit wonder,
There's no more coming out, if I'm done I'm under. 
Six feet down, yeah I'm still alive,
Keeping it real, taking the world by surprise. 

No more clowning around, life is serious right?
These shoes don't fit my feet, they're coming untied. 
Tripping me up - too long and too wide,
Overhauling my wardrobe, I've metamorphasized. 

Something bit me, infected my brain,
I'm an emotional zombie feeding on all the pain.
Out of sync with the world,
Improperly loaded - like .45s in a 9,
You'd better just throw it. 
A 47th harmonic in a 3 bar scale,
I'm not missing a cent, not going to jail. 
It all equals out, the weight lives in your mind,
Imbalanced by choices, that we choose on a dime. 
You're as free as your mind, they can't take that away.
Or just straight up lose it, 
Start walking away,
Forget where you put it,
Leave all the tickets unpaid,
Middle finger to the world walking out of the cage. 

I'm happier than most, living with my perspective,
Don't miss the feelings of being neglected.
By a god omnipresent but omni-missing,
He's been gone so long, the milk cartons quit listing. 
Was he killed in action or did he dodge the draft?
Let us figure it out alone - hope we'd forge the right path.

I'm a force on my own walking while spitting,
These words are the path to a much better history. 
Tuneless - just whatever random words come out next,
Writing a freedom that finally makes sense. 

Thursday, March 26, 2015

F*ck Feminism

If you read my post yesterday you probably find the inflammatory title of this entry confusing - that's on purpose. After I posted about the lack of trust between men and women, a friend challenged the idea that men should aspire to be feminists with this:

Good thoughts, although I'm not sure I agree. I don't think a man has to be a feminist to reach that higher level consciousness when it comes to relationships. Simply respecting yourself and your partner should pretty much take care of insecurities within a relationship. Take the relationship for what it is and forget what it's not. Be in touch and connected with yourself as a man, meaning you can show and share vulnerability and true emotion in any situation. Be understanding and open. But most of all just be honest with yourself and your partner. Share your thoughts and the things you're scared of. When the right woman sees you for you and realizes just how unique and special you are, and she is able to share herself completely, most insecurities can and will go away. Many times shit just doesn't work out and it is what it is. I don't think one needs to be a "feminist" just to identify with the female species and be a better partner. Hopefully she will identify with you and be able to be a "manimest" just as much as you are trying to relate and be that feminist. Relationships are simple, it's the people in them that are complicated (mostly for no reason). Calm the mind, be in the moment, listen, be in touch with yourself, be confident in who you are, and the right woman will find you. When that happens trust won't be the issue. It's finding enough time to keep her mind, body and soul occupied. If it's not, the constant attention from other dudes will eventually break your bond. I ramble...

Writing back, the reason for my discomfort with men claiming to be feminists suddenly crystalized: it's just the opposite side of the same issue and we are doing it out of guilt.

When humans discover that we are doing something wrong or harmful, we are prone to swing to the opposite extreme as if that will somehow relieve the guilt and cure the problem more quickly. That's called being bipolar - it's unhealthy and dangerous because it's unbalanced. Usually coupled with a swing to the opposite side of a spectrum is the constant announcement that you are there. As if somehow you will absolve the guilt by convincing yourself and everyone else that "you aren't doing that evil thing anymore" and all is forgiven.

I take issue with anyone calling themselves feminists (or labels in general) because it defines by confining. Everyone wants to be respected as equal and valuable in the world. In my observation, people that have been oppressed and treated as second class have identity issues where their subconscious is constantly filtering everything through the idea that they are worth-less. As a reaction to this painful statement a brute force attempt to override the core programming ensues with constant admonitions - "you are actually better than them (the oppressor)". If I can believe that the rest of the world is jealous because of how awesome I am, it provides a context for all the mistreatment which helps in a way but is just as wrong because it is just as much a lie. The goal isn't to feel equal not superior but once you go to the extreme as a hail mary, it's just as easy to get locked into a mindset that spreads more damage. Trying to ameliorate your own self worth through self-aggrandizement is only layering superiority over a foundation of inferiority. That may lead to some outward success but only pushes others down while you still feel like shit about yourself for eating this fucked up lasagna. Believing that one group is better or more valuable is a fatal flaw that has engendered much of the trouble in the world.

Men claiming to be feminists rubs me the wrong way because it feels insincere and insecure - like a white guy trying to prove how much he loves black people by co-opting a perceived view of American black culture. When you focus on something and define it with "I'm a feminist" etc, it puts undue focus on one side which is what got us in trouble in the first place. Women are fantastic and I love them; however, they are not better or less than men - we are all equally valuable. You can't abnegate part of your identity by throwing a new color of paint on the walls and call it good. Bandying labels about is swinging to the opposite pole instead of finding the zero crossing point in the center where both sides are equal. Anyone who denies their own identity claiming a label is someone who hasn't figured out / accepted who they are to begin with. If we weren't insecure, then the guilt wouldn't be there. We're trying to prove to everyone that we are good because we want to be liked and celebrated.

The world needs both sides to appreciate each other for who they are as the other side of our humanity. We have issues in human interactions because we aren't honest with ourselves and each other. Lack of truth keeps things obscured creating a guessing game like passive aggression - you think you know what's going on but there is just enough doubt and obfuscation that you can't be sure and are left trying to solve for all possible answers. Airing your fears is a great way to watch them shrivel up and die. As you come to realize that you can accept yourself, there becomes less of a need to emblazon words such as "feminist" on your person. It's like someone wearing a gaudy Ed Hardy T-shirt - dude's got something to prove.

Wednesday, March 25, 2015


On lunch break today I read a Huffington Post article about how men do not trust women and I had to admit the piece held a lot of truth. Through my journey I've come to understand a few things one of which being - humans are fundamentally insecure. Men distrust women because they know deep down that they cannot control a female heart. 

A lack of trust either manifests in oppression and abuse or skepticism, bitterness and lack of fairness. Love cannot be bought or owned: It's a choice, a gift - offered moment by moment. Most guys are actually afraid under all the bravado the project to hide a weakness - we hate being alone. 

In the bible it says that God decided it wasn't good for man to be alone so he made women. No! This was just a story conjured up because a man was ashamed of being lonely. People talk about men's insecurity "dick measuring contest" etc, as if it's an issue without a specific cause. Rarely does anyone ever touch on what men are insecure about preventing the issue from being dealt with. Thanks to the Internet it is much harder to ignore the injustices in the world. Confronted with irrefutable evidence we are starting to feel guilty and feebly attempting to change. 

Many guys have taken to calling themselves feminists because they have empathy. The thing is, you aren't a fucking feminist unless you have addressed your own shit and can treat every woman as if she were an ethereal experience, not something to be conquered and owned. I like the concept of feminism - women being respected as an equal being on this planet but I bristle when I hear men apply that label to themselves. Why? Because it seems disingenuous. Am I a feminist? Not yet. I aspire to be (and would say I'm almost there) but I'm still working it out. Males claiming feminism feels off because like I said earlier today good people don't go around announcing they are good. I have a feeling that when I finally am a feminist, I won't have to tell anyone - they will just know. The scene from GI Jane comes to mind where she claims she isn't in the program to make a statement and is set straight with "if you were like everyone else we wouldn't be making statements about not making statements."

For years I wanted to know that if I found someone to love and be love by, they would never leave. It's what marriage has been about for generations: a guarantee that is difficult and in some cases fatal to break (depending on where you happen to live). Now I've begun to see relationships differently.  Men need to quit mistreating the wonderful gift that is the female because they can't admit they are vulnerable and expecting something unhealthy out of a woman.

You can't have trust when you are afraid - that's called gambling. When you are satisfied with yourself the fear goes because you know that no matter what happens, you will still be okay. At that point trust becomes obsolete, traded in for the euphoria of an equal but opposite partnership. Cohabiting the same space in time not because you're vamping their energy, but because alone you are DC and together you're AC - a wave of immense value, transforming to what the present requires. 

Good Guy Discount

Good guy discount, ever heard of it? Me neither till last weeks episode of This American Life. Basically it boils down to: you walk into a business, select an item, then upon being rung up ask "do you give a good guy discount?" The clerk is most likely going to be perplexed not having heard of it before and say "no". You reply with "you know like I'm a good guy, you're a good guy, from one good guy to another to another can you work something out." Supposedly it works about 20% of the time although the other 80% is probably heavily effected by business with strict policies or employees who don't have the right authority. 

The reporter for the piece set out to try and get a "good guy discount" but not without much hesitation. His main qualms were exactly mine - calling yourself a good guy seems like something a good guy shouldn't and wouldn't do. You are asking someone to do a favor for you because you are claiming to have commonality. I would be mortified to ask for such a discount partially because I'm constantly questioning my own goodness, but also because making such a statement would be counter productive to my goal of being a decent person. 

It's that seed deep down in all of us that wants to feel that we are a good person and also have other people recognize it, that makes this discount work. Imagine you are feeling down and a random stranger asks you to help them because they can tell you are a good guy and then identifies them self as the same. The affirmation is going to cause many to let their guard down and oblige. It feels like a huge manipulation to me - a facade filled only with selfishness. 

As I listened, I thought about the difference between the perspectives of people who question their own good and those who accept it. Constantly questioning your soul is just as damaging as living in a delusion; however, being delusional seems to have some perks. There's a fine line in between the two where you still question but accept that because you question and adjust it makes you good. 

I'll use the "good guy discount" as frequently as I use the "five finger discount" - never. Instead we should aim to be good and recognize it in other people so that they can be encouraged making the world a better place. That's much better than amassing discounted possesions. 

Sunday, March 22, 2015

Breaking Orbit

Eyes open barely seeing,
Consciousness without context awakened. 
Lines blurry,
Eventually edges defined.
Suddenly in focus,
Chiseled in stone.
The past unclouded,
Bricks crumble.
A new path accessible,
Paralleling but higher. 
Circling the mountain,
Ascending the apex.
Grown trees still sapling inside,
Time irrelevant to the strength of the core. 
Orbiting a trajectory,
Till knowledge turns force. 
Breaking the gravity,
Eschewing the status quo. 
Launching to a new plane,
Circumnavigating a smaller question. 
When all is answered,
Atoms rest. 

Saturday, March 21, 2015

48 Days

48 days, give or take a handful:
It's all I get,
All I can afford. 
365 pass like a sound nights sleep,
Waking with only vague recollections of dreams,
Facing reality:
A wound that may never quite heal. 

720 days, give or take a hundred:
Hoping it will be enough,
That they never felt completely abandoned.
Years vanish like light into a black hole: 
Highlights preserved in a bar graph of snapshots,
The steady line of immersion broken - disjointed. 

Indeterminate days, give or take infinity:
Praying they will find personal peace,
My experiences somehow ameliorating theirs. 
Trusting that "the best I knew how" made the cut without cutting deeply:
Transcending emotions through maturing perspective,
Questions answered - understanding. 


Tuesday, March 17, 2015


The bouncer checks my ID at the door,
"Thanks" he says, waving me inside. 
Friendly, for bar security. 
Scanning the room I choose a seat away from the throng by an open window. 
Minutes pass smoking a cigarette: Absorbed in the music,
Enjoying the rumble of straight pipes passing by. 
People are being served but tonight I am invisible; Wearing a sign saying "don't patronize me."
Noting it down on my phone, I smoke another cigarette:
Blending into the noise I imagine
I will leave dry, but quenched. 
As the cigarette burns down,
Out of the corner of my eye she approaches - Leslie
"Hey! What are we drinking?"
Vodka and grapefruit juice - greyhound. 
Appropriate since I spent the last few days thinking about grey
With a smile Leslie drops the drink off and I suddenly think did she really mean "what are we drinking?"
Should I buy her a drink?
The greyhound is perfect, reviving my dry mouth. 
I have already found the love of my life,
I don't care what Leslie may want. 
This moment is perfect - acknowledging my satisfaction,
Weightless, the burden gone. 
I light my last cigarette, sipping the grey away,
Reveling in life.

Saturday, March 14, 2015

Too Many Metrics

Futzing around with the settings on my cars computer I accidentally set it for Celcius instead of Fahrenheit and had a thought - this seems to be way less precise. Googling the conversion I discovered it's something like 1.8xF + 32. Basically the point is that we have nearly twice the measuring points in America than the rest of the world. Maybe that's the reason we are so finicky in our country because we have more options. 

The USA was based on the freedom to be yourself whatever that is which is a beautiful concept. However, it weakens is un a way because the more options you have to choose from, the more discontent you can be. 

Every day we have the choices pumped into us like an IV from the million cereals in the grocery aisle to the seemingly endless channels to watch on TV. Everything is becoming specialized through analysis to cater to exactly what we want. The problem is that comfortability stems evolution and progress.

Only people who have struggled or dealt with trauma question life because they are trying to live out the basic instinct to survive becoming programmed to analyze everything: how do I avoid this happening again? The bullshit of suburbia and corporate America isn't what they want for their lives because frankly, it's bullshit - a pile of shit that does nothing for you. It's a ladder that climbs not to a dream but an infinite loop of elusive achievement and self approbation delineated only by materialism and who you know. 

We question because we see through the options and realize that it's not knowing that you like your thermostat set on 75 degrees in the winter that defines who you are. Instead we embrace the nebulous, less defined side of life knowing that the demarcations don't really matter. The experiences you have can't be quantified on a point system but are unique feelings like the first time you road a bike. It wasn't a ten, it was just bliss as you conquered something new and relished in it. Life isn't black and white or 50 shades of grey. It's an immense and vibrant pallete that doesn't need definition - it just calls to be experienced. 

The Clermont Lounge

Standing in line, its 2 am, rain dances on the tin roof: alluring, as if a preview to the main event. 
Huddled together for warmth but mostly pressing closer to the excitement - we wait, for patrons to be used up and expelled - granting us permission to indulge the cycle.
The air electric with the magnetism of a freak show.
Pre-gamed gawkers ready to feel something they would forget the next day;
Save for the vague, alcohol soaked, broad strokes. 
I handed the man $10 apiece for me and my girl. 
He pried it from my reluctant grasp. 
Inside the air hung with a light but pervasive cloud of smoke adding an ethereal element to the atmosphere. 
Pounding music shook the crowded dance floor as a large middle aged woman shook her bare breasts on stage behind the bar. 
I tried not to stare. 
Most people didn't look,
They were there to feel. 
I tried to pretend I wasn't there, couldn't feel. 
It was humanity. 
Life at its grittiest.
Squeezing the lemons for every drop. 
Alchemists turning misogyny and self loathing into evaporating gold.
Grasping at the ghostly presence of power and affirmation,
Unable to permanently attain. 
Observers who with their gawking pay homage to the spectacle, secretly accepting you while acknowledging their own humanity through you. 
It was sad, lonely, broken. 
Strikingly poignant,
Unexpectedly beautiful. 
A mirror held up to life, unflattering yet honest - a glimpse into who we really are. 
My horror receded as I realized we are all the same: I was one of them on a different stage, working out the routine of my own salvation. 

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Evaporating Souls

Ear pressed against your rib cage
Listening as the rhythm drops tempo.
My nose caresses your back
Taking in your scent, 
Feeling the softness of your skin

I am listening to your soul,
Smelling the essence of you: 
Hoping to coalesce as one.

Silence - you aren't there.
In this moment you feel ethereal, 
More a concept than reality,
Only solidified by your presence. 

Once again I lay, wrapping you in my embrace. 
This time I listen to your breathing,
The sighs as you catch your breath. 
A new facet memorized. 

Growing together as we discover our better selves. 
A clearer picture of me intertwining me more with you. 
The distance no longer mattering. 

Our spirits slowly being distilled,
Evaporating together into an infinite universe.
Till only the dust of our memories remain