Tuesday, April 8, 2014

surrender is the new black flag

I don my shoes, shorts, and thrift-store long-sleeve. aiming for a jog I jack-in and poke my head outside to test another grey day with howling wind and screaming adolescence fresh from another school day. 

"fuck it." I say. 

I replace my shoes with some sweats and brew a cup while I unplug. 

I enjoy crash-landing into this chair with a fresh brew, book, blanket, and tobacco. 

the cat climbs onto my lap. he knows the score.

I scratch his chin while searching for the right tunes. I'm looking for the proper ambience for my ambivalence. I settle for some obscure experimental noise while I tuck into another volume of escapist fiction. 

let the wind blow and the clouds roll on by. let the kids set each-other ablaze. let armageddon pass over me. 

Monday, April 7, 2014

by the balls...

years ago, before my father lost his mind, he told me I had the world by the balls. 

according to an online slang dictionary, this means that one is in a good place in life, or in business. 

at the time, perhaps I did have the world by its balls? however, it felt like the world had me by the balls. 

it still does. 

We were in Canada on dad's little boat fishing, and I told him that all I really look forward to everyday was my next meal. that's when he mentioned my grasp on the world's testicles.

I was in college at the time. A decent one, in a decent city. I was studying frivolity on the GI Bill. Outwardly, I was doing well. Inwardly I was wrecked by self-loathing, doubt, and fear.

I was a sham. I picked an easy major so as to put off getting a proper job. I fantasized about graduating and expatriating to a foreign city and discarding my identity and debts. Maybe writing a novel? Or become a male prostitute? 

Sunday, April 6, 2014

too old to be new

starting over sucks.

Lets skip to the denouement?
save the conflict for someone who is invested, someone who values rising-action. 

why not simply create ambience and atmosphere? a place to kick-off one's shoes and socks to grind those well-manicured toes into a plush carpet so-to-speak. everything should be plush and room-temperature. let us lower the stakes and take time.

when did being honest become embarrassing? I don't want to make a mistake. I don't want to look stupid. I want to be liked. I don't want you to touch me. stop breathing like that. go away. where are you? come back. hello? 

I feel feeble. meek. I eek out an existence. petrified. afraid. I don't recognize this man. this man I see reflected. I was going to do something significant. I'm running out of time. yet I'm embarrassed to hurry. they'll see me running to catch-up and know that I didn't properly prepare. I don't want to be left behind, but these things that seem important to them don't seem so to me. they told me vanity was bad. pride was bad.  selfishness bad. but it all seems prideful, vain, & selfish. everything. we help in hope to be helped. all points of view benefit the viewer. 

gravedigger is the only honest vocation. there's no rush and plenty of earth to move. we'll never run out of bodies. can we buy coffins online? Skype a funeral? 



Thursday, March 6, 2014


to fail with flair,
to plummet with panache,
to excel in mediocrity. 
cannot areté have variety?
rather a sore-loser,
engorged on sour-grapes. 
than a numb victor. 

Sunday, February 23, 2014

an attitude of decrepitude

casual discussions about beliefs' akin to public defecation. 

every believer a sadomasochist. the agony of eternal hell and damnation motivates. someone must suffer for another to succeed. the possibility of their own torture provides a sunday-school erection. 

piety is the steaming pile. 

Tuesday, February 11, 2014

A xenopologist on earth...

or, the sole lunar colonist...

or stranded adrift, alone amongst the stars...

pretend this space, this cold, dark basement dwelling is my habitat, craft, or remote outpost...

music, books, film, and the occasional resupply mission to Station-Wawa for rations. 

sometimes the indigenous lifeforms attempt to interact with a barely working lingua franca.

best to avoid them.

Monday, February 3, 2014

still shamming...

this from the latest foray into wage-slavery...

spent this morning stuck on the short bus while the boss and colleagues napped. any other day he'd be the first down but this morning was very awake due to an epic siesta. he brought some literature but lacked sufficient illumination. this won't happen again. considering the predicament and setting, he was struck by how similar it was to his enlistment...

"twelve years later and still shamming." he thought. 

lately his highlights include meals and a hearty bowel movement. also, seems like he's trimming his nails more frequently. yet, they're growing no faster. he's simply lost the time between trims to being underwhelmed, listless and asleep. when we're young time is filled with wonder and new adventures, where potential still lurks untapped. back then ablutions were a chore. now we can't settle-down until thoroughly scrubbed and trimmed proper. 

again he caught himself this morning longing for a terminal illness, or glorious demise. some rare disease, (albeit painless). maybe drowning while saving some kids? he recently heard drowning is peaceful (we're not so sure). the moment of sheer terror as one's lungs fill with fluid doesn't sound peaceful. he knows all too well that mortal panic sucks. we've witnessed it turn decent people into snivelers. anyways, he seeks an excuse from this or that. like stealing hall-passes in high-school to avoid class, or malingering to avoid duties, or feigning explosive-diarrhea to explain a work absence.

however, surrender did occur when he reached the halfway point in that enlistment, and realized shamming was more effort then simply doing the work. after that he excelled in his own way. that's the space he's in now. the halfway point. but we'll not call it a crisis.

it's the beginning of the end to crisis.