RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.

Friday, May 8


I’ll be honest… really hoping that in the next decade of my life I move far deeper into cultivating an Omar Souleyman-level æsthetic. Shit, he’s only about 8 years older than me, and has been a singer and farmer most his adult life, having released over 500 albums under his name, many of which are just ones he made at weddings and gave to the married couple, but then got bootlegged and sold at music kiosks throughout the Arabian Peninsula. His rise in international notoriety has coincided with him living in exile in Turkey since 2011 as his native Syria has been in a state of conflict, specifically his home of Tell Tamer aka Tal Tamr aka “the hill of dates”. I almost bought 11 lbs of dates on ebay in the middle of the night the other evening, because fuck man, dates are some wonderful shit, especially when you haven’t eaten all day, whether fasting or by accident, and you pop one in your mouth and it’s an explosion of natural sweetness. Globalism as a means for corporate sterilization of the Earth, where everybody anywhere can eat a fucking piece of shit Big Mac, that’s some gross shit. But the ability to appreciate things outside your local microcosmic existence, for me as a rural southerner by birth, so that I can love on some dates and listen to Omar Souleyman, I appreciate that at least. But the globalism of the powerful is about business, not culture, and that’s why you got dumbasses out here being engineered by the interent to protest for re-opening normal ass basic ass boring as fuck businesses and acting like that’s an act of freedom or liberation. Americans are so goddamned lost. We buy iPhone cases at kiosks in nearly abandoned malls as opposed to wedding singer mixtapes at kiosks in open air clusterfucks of humanity booming with life (and business). Business without culture will always die, and the further we get into our culture of America just being consuming shit, the easier it will be for it all to just turn into rubble. Fuck it. I can’t wait to stack rubble into a mixtape kiosk, tarp stretched over top for shade, nice pallet table, my overstock limited but stored in three milk crates easily hauled on my old Corolla chassis pulled by goats. Shit’s gonna be dope. I hope to have really nice chrome wheels on my goat-pulled Corolla chassis wagon too. The future’s gonna be great, despite what anybody tries to make you worry. You just gotta envision that good shit.

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