April the One

I'm sorry I haven't posted more lately but honestly I don't owe you shit and also my brain has turned to rust because the electrofog machines have been on high since sometime in probably 2011, at least here in America they have been, and I can only speak from where I sit. We have no say in where we are born but I was born here and it's really starting to make my head hurt, literally, I think it's a trick to put me on psychoactive pharmaceuticals to neuter my caveman molecules still firing to my brain, and I know this could probably be conceived as the words of a crazy man but let me be clear I am not being entirely serious though I am sort of completely serious and that is the beauty of the Raven Mack style of New Writing, it is just enough fiction spiced with just enough fact that the potential devils who read it don't understand it and are not sure what to make of it. I mean how else can I account for the fact I've not been snubbed out by floating surveillance eyeballs although perhaps I should myself refer back to my "neuter my caveman molecules" line from like right there just above. (By the way, the faded graffiti patinas of freight trains are perhaps man's most beautiful yet unobserved beauty. And within that is the lesson of Industrialism's horrible presence - when left to dilapidate back to within nature's realm, even man's most horrific transgressions against nature become just another beautiful part of the whole. That's because we're not separate, bro, totally not.)

The best thing about fire is it totally burns the fuck out of things. And there are a lot of things with a lot of fuck in them, so much so that when I pass I have to scream "FUCK!" at them out of sheer overwhelming realization. But fire gets rid of a lot of that. 

On a personal Rojonekku Word Fighting Art update sort of tip, there will be a pair of Hand-to-Hand Haiku Tournaments upcoming this month, first at Green Willow Farm just east of Charlottesville, VA, on April 19, and then at Blue Padma Yoga Gallery in Scottsville, VA, on April 27. Both of these events will feature an 8-person haiku tournament with some sort of reading/ranting/hosting methodology by your's truly, Raven Mack aka 1000 Feathers aka Sheikh Libertad Molecules. Both events will hopefully be the first of four events at each particular spot this calendar year of 2013, and both will have a suggested donation of $3 which will benefit the hosting facility in each case, because I don't believe in money personally. I will have 1000 Feathers pamphlets available for the taking IF you make a donation, and if anyone who randomly lays eyeballs upon this thinks to them self, "Man, I wish I could take part in this hand-to-hand haiku tradition that Raven Mack is ringleading throughout the various back roads and dark alleys of Americana," then totally just shoot me an email, because we can make that happen.

Additionally, if there is a Greyhound autobus service that has a drop-off bench in your locality and you are wishing I would do such a thing there and you know a place that can host it and potentially give me a scrap of floor to sleep upon, then again, by all means, send me electronic mails explaining what you have in mind.

Also a thing that may or may not be of interest to my loyal readers, the Beerbox Haiku which was here at one point but then disappeared is about to re-appear as an ebook collected in chronological form with an introduction and shit like that, in the coming few weeks. Having a chance to revisit that project has made me realize that although I ignore my own creations most of the time, I've written some fucking amazing short form poetry. It is a slice of life that has perhaps been sliced completely out of existence. In other words, I'm proud as fuck.

Also, beyond that, Confederate Mack Chronicle ebooks should start arriving this summer. Not sure how many it'll end up being, but I'm guessing even after editing out shit I'm too shamed to share or is no longer relevant and crap like that, it's still going to be four or five volumes. I have written a billion words in my lifetime, many of them demented, some of them genius, none of them truly mine other than something shot them through my head, and at times I wonder how come the world does not know me better by now? But the shining flashlights of popular culture never really know anything, even what they do shine a light on, so I hope for those that have read along with me over the years, some of these words have meant a thing to you somewhere along the way. Because if I never wrote another word ever again for the rest of my life, I would still be proud of what I've done, even the shameful shit.