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.

Friday, August 17

SONG OF THE DAY: Wife Sitter



The notion of marriage, and possession – of each other as well as your shit, is fucked up. Hardest part of separation has not been emotions between me and my partner, because we’re still ride or die for each other. It’s the fuckin’ economics and capitalism of it all. Together we were two fists punching in one direction, and that shit’s hard enough like that. Separated, the system and society and in fact a lot of people who try to get in our ears get us to punching at each other. This doesn’t help either of us to be honest. And even typing this, I’m automatically feeling defensive that somebody would be like “oh he’s just being deadbeat, fuck him.” It’s fucked up.
When I feel angry at the situation, rather than turn against one another, I like to listen to Swamp Dogg. He’s from Portsmouth, VA, originally, so maybe is an actual swamp dog. That swamp down there is allegedly home to a sect of one of my favorite historical concepts – the tri-racial isolates – or secluded autonomous areas where runaways African slaves, remaining indigenous natives, and outcast Europeans, intermingled and mixed and became their own thing. It’s existed as long as organized United States of America has existed. None of these battles we’re fighting now are new – this place has had it twisted since the very beginning. Fuck it though, all empires eventually crumble under the weight of their own unsustainable corruption.

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