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.

Saturday, August 29

45s on 33 – #11: “North, East, South, West”

To the north of here more immediately is a commercial clusterfuck that’s been developing just over the county line, where the Wal-Mart and Lowe’s and a weird diamond interchange that is confusing but not really just because you are going the wrong side of the road as they want to get people off the interstate quickly, even though not that much traffic is happening there, yet. I guess that’s a sign of things to come if they’re putting in housing sub-divisions and commercial complexes (more like complicateds) and shit like that. Far north is DC where the cultural decisions to move in directions like that are made for this nation I happened by chance to be born inside of.
To the east more immediately is just roads to Richmond, all of which I know in finding various paths to a nexus of my existence as an adult. Sometimes I go interstate if in rush, other times I go back roads if I want to vibe to the nothing much. Farther east is the Atlantic, where I need to dip myself more often, baptizing the filth away, absolving my self of the sins of being homo sapien as much as possible.
To the immediate south is Buckingham County, with a large percentage of working aged men lacking jobs, unemployed or disabled or given up, and it’s a sad place but people get by, somehow, probably in ways we all shouldn’t be proud of. Further south is not really that much further because that’s the gateway back to Southside Virginia, which is has had larger cultural influence on me through my presence there than anywhere else on earth. Southside Virginia is beautiful but also fucked, and being it’s not in the mountains, it lacks the known fuckedness of the Appalachians. But it’s like flat Appalachia basically, and I am simultaneously proud but embarrassed of it.
To the immediate west is the mountains, where I run off to do reverse baptisms, kiss the clouds a little while and try to get mind right through elevated state. This is a very necessary activity. Mountains and oceans are the twin rechargers of human mentality (heart), and thus rivers are sort of the conduit between the two, thus also fairly necessary. Further to the west is the rest of America. It could be suggested I should have seen more of all that, but at the same time it’s hard to fully experience even the tiny little region you are already in, not to any deep level, and at this point in my life I think I’m more dedicated to that depth of area’s knowledge than accumulating random distant spaces like baseball cards.

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