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.

Monday, December 11

JJ Krupert Dec 2017 number one "i don't care"


being of the age demographic of mid-life existential crises, I have heard of many a younger wilder dude turn to their singer/songwriter phase of career, where lol they do quirky mellow jams LIKE IT’S MELLOW BUT NOT REALLY MELLOW BC I HAVE NOT MELLOWED BC I AM SO REAL TOO REAL FOR MELLOWNESS except a lot of time it’s fake bc honestly I had my mid-life crisis like most doomed fucked ppl (around age 25 at the latest, bc we have shorter half-lifes due to radioactive lifestyles). usually this type will do the songs they wrote plus mix in some not well-known old jams (blaze foley for example) or re-purpose mellow folk rock classic from AM radio memories at grandma’s house into something ironic and new, kinda. majority of this reeks as posturing to me, but I am perhaps biased bc born doomed and the beauty of quality singer/songwritering is it is perfect for wrecking into guard rails (aka the Jim Croce rule) and then you pick the best song for your funeral which was likely spare changed among the community to afford (“Box #10” by Jim Croce).

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why do I say all this? no idea other than Wino is Wino and he is the king of this singer/songwriter transition and it is impossible for me to believe he is inauthentic. last I remember he got busted for meth in Scandinavia or some shit, and I guess I could look up what’s happened since then but that would mean googling information I don’t already know, and one can read all the fucking information inside the digital libraries of collective knowledge and still not know a fucking thing. I know for almost near certainty that Wino was not drinking stolen Riunite and smoking dirtweed in the woods sittin’ on milk crates behind the 1985 Big Star grocery store in Farmville, Virginia, but idk, listen to this song and he might have been. even if he wasn’t, he knows what the fucks up.

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