RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition who publishes zines & physical books & electronic books & music & photography & digital art & just generally whatever feels necessary to survive this deluded earth thru Rojonekku Word Fighting Arts survival systems (Version 69, establish 14 Feb 1973). Comments encouraged.

Wednesday, August 31

J.J. Krupert Top 13 Countdown - July '11 #11: "Whiskey River" by Willie Nelson


I don't know what to say in regards to Willie Nelson and this drunkard anthem what which he starts every show for a thousand years. I am overwhelmed by feeling stifled and wanting my hair to shoot out my head again and to end the senseless shuck and jive and ride shitty motorcycles over the edges of horizons that dance just out of reach like solar flares for eternity, but always chasing, with tools wrapped up because all my shit is broken or cobbled or pieced together and I'm sure I'll either have to tighten up something that life has loosened or learn to fix something that's beyond my frame of reference from yesterdays but always expanding. And how would a song about alcoholic over-indulgence to escape thinking about emotional entanglements in the here and now make me want to drink again? But it does. It's been ten months, and I don't exactly wrestle with it because I'm better off, but without the bullshit trust in Jesus route, I am left to fend for myself. And honestly, sometimes my self needs crazy and needs chaos and needs reckless mistakes. Or maybe I don't and I'm just enabling myself. Who the fuck knows?
Anyways, I quit drinking liquor long ago, long before I quit drinking completely, because I did not know how to not go full-speed (still don't) so cutting liquor out of my life meant I maintained more of my knuckles and received less chances of misdemeanor assault charges on the strange streets of late night Richmond. Man, I don't fucking know. Something is amiss right now and I can't put my finger on it and usually giant reckless binge indulgences allowed me to make a giant mess to occupy myself internally and externally long enough to ignore whatever it is that was missing. So right now I'm just like, "???" without an escape clause written into my routine. No whiskey river to take my mind. Just me and my goddamned always on brain.
STEAL "Whiskey River"
NEXT
: Old folks boogie music!

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