a touch of "backwoods" present
in every corner store,
but it's behind the counter
Monday, February 18
Sunday, February 17
S0VTH3RN G0TH1C FVTVR1ST...
southern gothic futurist
psychologies always been
around - just need connection
SONG OF THE DAY: Sound of Da Police
Seen a couple pretend new school muscle cars like Mustang or
Charger, but specificially Mustang triggered this blurb thought stream – loud exhaust
shiny newish Mustang driven by jarhead 1 on the sides 3 on the top white male,
generally pro-cop as fuck. Maybe I was raised in a strange cultural vacuum of
rural despair, but back in the day muscle car culture was delinquent and
derivative of bootlegging culture, and thus had zero respect for cops. I mean
they listened to the scanner to try and see if the cops was coming round to
hassle people. This got me to thinking about how Nascar was a propaganda effect
on culture, slowly taking a thing literally born from anti-cop anti-government
bootleggers, assimilating it into corporate culture, covering it with
sponsorship decals, taking away all the bumping and grinding and unsavory
characters, to where a fuckin’ weasel-voiced shithead like Jeff Gordon is
considered an all-time classic. What the fuck? This also got me to thinking
about how a drunken drag racing buddy of my uncle back in the day became a cop,
and that meant he talks funny like cops do, but he also saved me from a felony
one time, which likely would’ve changed the entire trajectory of my life, so
there’s a certain white trash privilege built into that, which poor whites utilize
through that cousin or friend of uncle who becomes a shitty cop, which means we
don’t talk about shit around them but still lean on for a favor if shit ever
gets ugly. That’s exactly what my cop-hating dad did when I was looking at a potential
felony back in the day. But I don’t think that makes me special or better.
Shit, if the law was applied equally, I would’ve gone to jail, and my whole
life would’ve been fucked up in a different way, which is EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS
TO A LOT OF FUCKIN’ PEOPLE, specifically minorities who ain’t got no cousin or
uncle’s friend who became a cop for whatever fuckin’ reason. Which is why I
say, as a white person from an economically-strained background, you should
never be pro-police, even tacitly, much less riding around with a goddamned
giant ass blue lives matter flag flying on the back of your fuckin’ ridiculous
pick-up truck. Stop being class traitors, stop licking police state boots, and
never ever ever believe that cooperating is to your benefit. They are liars.
Shit, even when I was able to beat a felony, they lied to me to try and get me
to implicate others, in order to “help” me. Fuck that. Don’t believe them.
Lives aren’t born blue, they’re trained to be blue lives, utilizing deceit and
enforcement of obedience and all sorts of other ugly shit, ultimately to generate
revenue for the state and suppress elements deemed unworthy of helping. ACAB
1314
Saturday, February 16
BLV3 SK13S 0V3R DR13D VP SM4LL...
blue skies over dried up small
town - too many buildings to
demolish, but nothing's coming
Friday, February 15
F34TH3R3D H41R 1N R3FL3CT10N...
feathered hair in reflection
of dusty mirror; basement
apartment has guns, roses
SONG OF THE DAY: I Couldn't Get High
An
abnormally warm Friday, week of my birth, dark familial matters like always,
nation state geopolitics absolutely fucked, can’t get no respite not enough
hours to do all the creating I wanna do and maintain responsible necessities,
trying to sell art to a broke ass world, stretching $14 from here til 8 days
from now (plus untapped change jar about two inches thick, mostly brown though –
been strip mined of quarters once already), so yes very much yes the concept of
getting high still calls me, still says in that sweet whisper, “Hey Raven, fuck
it man, none of this shit matters, you’ll never get anywhere and you’re wasting
all this effort trying to do all this shit that won’t ever happen for somebody
with your background anyways. Fuck it. Take that oxycontin and go sit in the
park, don’t do shit but listen to the birds, or go down by the river and let
the rapids laugh at you, which your dumbass.” And man, that whisper makes a lot
of sense, but my hands ain’t shaking, at least not today. But those poor
choices always beckon, as the best choices possible a lot of times.
S1M14N 0V3RL0RDS PL4N...
simian overlords plan
for perfect boxes, but wild
minds blemish their purity
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