I’ve been trying to shimmy dance on the kitchen linoleum a lot more lately, even if it’s a slow slide shuffle at night. Always been self conscious about dancing in front of other folks, because I got way too high one time at a young age and overthought about the ridiculousness of shaking your body around in a rhythm. But anything is weird as fuck if you overthink it. If I get to clapping and sliding, the dog seems to like it, but I think she thinks it means we’re about to go for a walk. Sometimes, I try to pick up a cat and dance with them, but generally my cats ain’t about that shit. One of ‘em will tolerate it sometimes, but mostly they just wanna get let back down and watch me anxiously from underneath the kitchen rolling island thing. Makes me sad none of these animals wanna dance. What kinda miserable compound have I built here? Anyways, if you know of good dancing animals, put 'em in the comments. I might get one or two.
Thursday, October 29
K33P F4T R0LLS 0F P0STC4RD ST4MPS...
keep fat rolls of postcard stamps
in possession at all times,
and ain't afraid to use 'em
in possession at all times,
and ain't afraid to use 'em
Wednesday, October 28
SONG OF THE DAY: Mainstreet (kudzu'd)
My dad had a crazy uncle or two, as all quartz rock solid rural archetypes do, and they used to congregate on a fringe corner towards the south end of Main Street, near what used to be a pool hall, which became a video store when I was a kid, and had arcade games too, in the back, until Nintendos came out. Then they started renting video games and the back room became the adult rentals.
I had my own crazy uncles, as all quartz rock solid rural archetypes do, and when they were coming up, they’d built a bypass around downtown, a new four-lane with two smooth asphalt lanes going both ways, and folks had measured a near perfect quarter mile from just underneath the bridge that Nat Turner Road passed over, to the end of the guardrail headed west. It was just right for illegal drag racing, back then, but they built a Wal-Mart and a Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Food Lion and a Valero and a Comfort Inn and then that doubled and tripled, and downtown became obsolete and the four-lane got slow and had some stoplights thrown up. One uncle died early, as half of all quartz rock solid rural archetypes do, and the other one was briefly lacking a home base, so he’d be hanging around some of those stop light intersections.
Them stores been in decline, too. We’ve got a Big Lots where the department store was, and I think there’s a church that meets where that other grocery store used to be. The Wal-Mart is still there but it’s a sad and doomed place to be. Downtown is mostly empty, but there’s a smattering of boutique businesses that make no sense to people who lived here for more than one generation, run by folks who came from elsewhere, where they couldn’t afford to have a boutique business. They mostly get mad at us, for not spending money we don’t have to sustain their fantasies. I’d support them if I could, but I don’t often need $12 knick-knacks or $23 suppers.
They hadn’t figured out how to build a bypass around the bypass, so we all just get stuck at stoplights with the same stores they have in every other shithole nowhere to everybody else but us. Some dude who said he’s always been from here, but I’ve never seen, who wears polo shirts with his grandpa’s last name on them, is fixing up the old tobacco warehouse downtown, and turning it into a microbrewery or some shit. He was on the news from the city an hour away, talking about how they wanted a road that went around the bypass and came right to the quaint end of downtown he was doing this at. I think his wife runs the $12 knick-knack shoppe (extra letters to show you how it’s laid out inside). They was trying to get a roundabout built there, and have a historic downtown shopping district.
That’s the other end of Main Street from where my crazy great uncles hung out, and the video store was. That building is still there, too, all fucked up and rotting back into the earth. But the building had good solid bones, from before any of our time. I dream about owning it, and having a flea market there, or something. But I can’t even pay the bills I got, and it’s getting cold, and that means heating bills about to be crazy, so we gotta limp along until we hopefully see the redbuds again. And maybe something magical happens and it all gets better, and making a living don’t feel so goddamn much like somebody slowly choking you to death, with hands you can’t see, which is letting just enough oxygen in you can keep paying your bills, but not letting go enough you can do anything better with your life. But what are you gonna do? Not that much you can do, if there ain’t no oil paintings of your great grandparents nowhere. At least that’s what I tell my nephew.
I had my own crazy uncles, as all quartz rock solid rural archetypes do, and when they were coming up, they’d built a bypass around downtown, a new four-lane with two smooth asphalt lanes going both ways, and folks had measured a near perfect quarter mile from just underneath the bridge that Nat Turner Road passed over, to the end of the guardrail headed west. It was just right for illegal drag racing, back then, but they built a Wal-Mart and a Kentucky Fried Chicken and a Food Lion and a Valero and a Comfort Inn and then that doubled and tripled, and downtown became obsolete and the four-lane got slow and had some stoplights thrown up. One uncle died early, as half of all quartz rock solid rural archetypes do, and the other one was briefly lacking a home base, so he’d be hanging around some of those stop light intersections.
Them stores been in decline, too. We’ve got a Big Lots where the department store was, and I think there’s a church that meets where that other grocery store used to be. The Wal-Mart is still there but it’s a sad and doomed place to be. Downtown is mostly empty, but there’s a smattering of boutique businesses that make no sense to people who lived here for more than one generation, run by folks who came from elsewhere, where they couldn’t afford to have a boutique business. They mostly get mad at us, for not spending money we don’t have to sustain their fantasies. I’d support them if I could, but I don’t often need $12 knick-knacks or $23 suppers.
They hadn’t figured out how to build a bypass around the bypass, so we all just get stuck at stoplights with the same stores they have in every other shithole nowhere to everybody else but us. Some dude who said he’s always been from here, but I’ve never seen, who wears polo shirts with his grandpa’s last name on them, is fixing up the old tobacco warehouse downtown, and turning it into a microbrewery or some shit. He was on the news from the city an hour away, talking about how they wanted a road that went around the bypass and came right to the quaint end of downtown he was doing this at. I think his wife runs the $12 knick-knack shoppe (extra letters to show you how it’s laid out inside). They was trying to get a roundabout built there, and have a historic downtown shopping district.
That’s the other end of Main Street from where my crazy great uncles hung out, and the video store was. That building is still there, too, all fucked up and rotting back into the earth. But the building had good solid bones, from before any of our time. I dream about owning it, and having a flea market there, or something. But I can’t even pay the bills I got, and it’s getting cold, and that means heating bills about to be crazy, so we gotta limp along until we hopefully see the redbuds again. And maybe something magical happens and it all gets better, and making a living don’t feel so goddamn much like somebody slowly choking you to death, with hands you can’t see, which is letting just enough oxygen in you can keep paying your bills, but not letting go enough you can do anything better with your life. But what are you gonna do? Not that much you can do, if there ain’t no oil paintings of your great grandparents nowhere. At least that’s what I tell my nephew.
K33P1NG L1F3 4FF0RD4BL3...
keeping life affordable
by scribbling graffiti all
over ambitious downtown
by scribbling graffiti all
over ambitious downtown
Tuesday, October 27
TH3 SP0RT1NG G0DS K33P VS DRVNK...
the sporting gods keep us drunk
on dogmatic statistics
that add up to more nothing
on dogmatic statistics
that add up to more nothing
Monday, October 26
JVST 4N0TH3R CL0WN SHVFFL1NG...
just another clown shuffling
around this mortal coil, as
foolish foil for perfection
around this mortal coil, as
foolish foil for perfection
Sunday, October 25
4 SM4LL T0WN S4TVRD4Y N1GHT...
a small town Saturday night,
buzzing with the chaotic
energy of feel good types
buzzing with the chaotic
energy of feel good types
Saturday, October 24
TH3 CH4R4CT3RS W3 P0RTR4Y...
the characters we portray
to others never admit
the masks which hide our true selves
to others never admit
the masks which hide our true selves
Friday, October 23
W1TH1N TH1S T0PSY TVRVY...
within this topsy turvy
world, we must begin to make
sense of where our true place is
world, we must begin to make
sense of where our true place is
Thursday, October 22
DVST1NG TH3 C0BW3BS 1N TH3...
dusting the cobwebs in the
corners of my mind, five times
a day... dhikr’s cleansing whoosh
corners of my mind, five times
a day... dhikr’s cleansing whoosh
Wednesday, October 21
N4V1G4T1NG TH3 D4RKN3SS...
navigating the darkness
of our own damned creation,
but the light is always there
of our own damned creation,
but the light is always there
Tuesday, October 20
Monday, October 19
TH1S P13C3 0F TH1S VN1V3RS3...
the piece of this universe
I stumble round might seem small,
but it's my everything
I stumble round might seem small,
but it's my everything
Sunday, October 18
"L1F3 1S 4 C4RN1V4L" 41N'T...
"life is a carnival" ain't
meant as justification
for hustling other people
meant as justification
for hustling other people
Saturday, October 17
34CH H0M3 B0X FVLL 0F B0D13S...
each home box full of bodies,
each minding own universe
of infinite potential
each minding own universe
of infinite potential
Friday, October 16
Thursday, October 15
L1F3'S 3SS3NT14L F0VND4T10NS...
life's essential foundations
concealed within even most
clusterfucked environments
concealed within even most
clusterfucked environments
Wednesday, October 14
HVM4NS S33M T0 C0MPL1C4T3 TH31R...
humans seem to complicate their
simplicity with shame, fear,
and unreal expectations
simplicity with shame, fear,
and unreal expectations
Tuesday, October 13
TH3 TRVLY B34VT1FVL D0N'T...
the truly beautiful don't
bother realizing it, as
it's their innate existence
bother realizing it, as
it's their innate existence
Monday, October 12
L0V3 T0 ST1CK MY T0NGV3 PL4C3S...
love to stick my tongue places
I probably shouldn't, but
I can't seem to help myself
I probably shouldn't, but
I can't seem to help myself
Sunday, October 11
N0 CR34T10N 1S GR34T3R...
no creation is greater
than its creator; and with
all things, alhamdulillah
than its creator; and with
all things, alhamdulillah
Saturday, October 10
Friday, October 9
SONG OF THE DAY: Smooth Operator (kudzu'd)
Ravishing Rick Rude often used “Smooth Operator” as his entrance music.
Briefly, Rick Rude had his sister, performing as Raven, be his valet. She (by her own admission) couldn’t handle the pro wrestling on the road lifestyle.
I am, in fact, named Raven, and have been since the day I was born.
Rick Rude is dead (may his memory be a blessing).
Thus, I am the Smooth Operator now.
I will be ironing silver letters onto a dark grey shirt which say so. Anybody who dares challenge the proclamation ironed onto my shirt will be in for a rude awakening.
(That was Rick Rude's finisher, which was a reverse neckbreaker style DDT of sorts.)
(My "rude awakening will instead be a fireball, like they used to use in wrestling way more than they do nowadays.)
(Please note, my "fireball" will be a Molotov cocktail, even though I don't drink.)
Briefly, Rick Rude had his sister, performing as Raven, be his valet. She (by her own admission) couldn’t handle the pro wrestling on the road lifestyle.
I am, in fact, named Raven, and have been since the day I was born.
Rick Rude is dead (may his memory be a blessing).
Thus, I am the Smooth Operator now.
I will be ironing silver letters onto a dark grey shirt which say so. Anybody who dares challenge the proclamation ironed onto my shirt will be in for a rude awakening.
(That was Rick Rude's finisher, which was a reverse neckbreaker style DDT of sorts.)
(My "rude awakening will instead be a fireball, like they used to use in wrestling way more than they do nowadays.)
(Please note, my "fireball" will be a Molotov cocktail, even though I don't drink.)
PR4Y1NG F0R B3TT3R FVTVR3...
praying for better future
outcomes, while acknowledging
some past failures were blessings
outcomes, while acknowledging
some past failures were blessings
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