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.

Wednesday, March 31

SONG OF THE DAY: Dickies Black Chucks


As a young poor, I never had brand name shoes as a kid. Motherfuckin’ kids were relentless too, even poor kids who somehow had nice shit. In fact, those kids were the worst about being relentless, mocking your “bobos” back in the day. Where I grew up, 8th grade was in the high school, and I begged and pleaded with my folks to buy me a fuckin’ pair of black Chuck Taylors for 8th grade. They weren’t but like $20 back then, but I guess that was still big money to my folks, with three kids, and a mostly unemployed dad who also had drinking and drug habits. They got them though, and man I was so fucking proud. Some rich kid had a summer pool party at his house, and I convinced my mom I could wear them early to that, like a couple weeks before school started. I swore I was styling. I don’t think nobody noticed shit though to be honest. That’s the problem with norms – you don’t notice normal shit, but man do you ever fucking clown on abnormal shit. Anyways, fuck norms. And sadly, there used to be a couple things I stubbornly prided myself on – never having paid for a haircut, never having bought Nikes, never having flown on an airplane. The past decade’s class transition into bougie-adjacent bullshit, has meant I’ve done all three, though still pretty minimally. I’ve got some work to do to get myself right again. Honing the machetes as we speak though, so don’t worry. You can’t ever assimilate fucked up feral hearts whose mind won’t listen to their brains, which get washed too regularly. Heart remains dirty with the truth. That’s why “brainwashed” is a word but “heartwashed” ain’t. Heart is pure (if you have it still) and ultimately doesn’t need cleansing, because all that dirt and grime that gives you heart, that’s reality. Or some shit. Who the fuck knows?

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