WH3N MY B0N3S 4R3 F0SS1L1Z3D...

when my bones are fossilized, 
hope my nonsense gibberish 
still fuels the fools amongst y’all 

1 P1TY TH3 F00L1SHN3SS...

I pity the foolishness

of one-inch deep consciousness

thick with popular culture

c m p b d

inside this cluttered camper
trailer is where my wild word
aura haarp beams back at y'all

f i r a e

chonkyfire end times hiding
behind not-so-damn-distant
calendar boxes; you wait

J.J. Krupert Top 13 Countdown - February '11 Intro

In the month of February, I turned 38. One of the initial mathematical plannings of the Lessons of Rojonekku (which will be available later this year) was the double spiral of life. I have broken the calendar into 10 parts, rather than 12, so that after 36 years of living, times 10 parts to each year, I had lived 360 degrees, or experienced an entire circle of life. Except it's more of a spiral than a perfect circle, because nothing naturally is closed in upon itself. And starting with my 37th year, this was to be my second 360 degrees, second spiral through life, probably landing roughly around 72 years total if all goes as I've metaphysically calculated. The thinking behind this is the first 36 years - the first spiral - you are soaking in life, absorbing everything your various environments throw at you. It is you growing your soul. None of us have any serious amount of wisdom in those first 36 years. But once you hit that second spiral, it is time to start spinning it all back out there. You are now shooting your soul's philosophies back out at your environment, letting your influence upon the world be done, as it can. Some people never really get anywhere with themselves, and their aura makes very little ripple on the outward spiral. Other folks shoot that spiral out and even if it makes little noise at first, it has aftershocks and reverberations and can ripple for years, decades, even centuries. I've always felt like I was to ripple for years. I don't know about the centuries, and won't be around to see it, but I know I've absorbed some serious strong powers in my first 36, a vast wealth of things that makes me very much unlike anyone else, except somehow at the same time exactly like everybody. Not sure how much that makes sense, but somehow at the same time I am completely confident that I am an original voice unlike most anything else you can find in books, internets, print, anywhere, and yet at the same time I'm very common and can make sense to and of anybody. I think it's a personal skill I learned in that first 36, to get along well with all, in as special a way as you can, because you never know who you're gonna end up backed up against a wall with in life, and when it's gonna happen.
What I'm trying to say is that the entire month of February has been a healing process for me, laid up in the bed most of the time, with an open wound in my abdomen, infected scientifically with a very specific bacteria which contaminated me during a surgical procedure, but also infected spiritually with things that go back up my family tree for more generations than I honestly fucking even know. And that healing process has been going on since I slipped on ice, fell off a five foot porch in January, and completely twisted my neck and back up into the wrong way. And honestly, it probably all goes back to the end of October when I quit drinking after an almost-all-nighter where I was wandering the same roads I had wandered a ton of times in that first 36, not even able to absorb anything new because I'd already seen that, been there, done that. It was a realization that if I was gonna be true to myself, if I was gonna be able to shoot that second spiral out effectively, I was gonna have to stop pretending to still be in the first 36 and soaking in the same old shit that I'd already sopped up pretty heavily.
Anyways, the point of all this is February was my birthday month. It was also a month that I had three hospital stays. In my entire life I've only had four hospital stays, so it's been an out-of-whack month. I am not sure if I'll physically go back to work within this page of the calendar or not, though I hope to. I really want to, but the fact of the matter is I still have a 2-inch deep wound oozing pus on my belly, ironically just under the right end of a tattoo that says LOUNGIN'. It's hard to really say that means anything special to the music I've been playing more heavily in this time period, because I can't really say that about any month with this J.J. Krupert experiment. Phases come and go and will peak but still carry weight within the parameters of how I do this for a few months after they've maxed out. Other things storm into my heart, but fade fast and never even make the list. But I know this has been some very introspective time, which has been tough, but is also good. There are some things in the works, possibly very big things, that could allow my second 36 to start spiraling out in the next 12-pack of calendar pages. I think it's important that I've been dwelling upon this in my brain, sitting in the back yard staring out at a world with headphones on, within the lunar confines of the month I was originally born into. It feels like this all makes sense. And actually, though I've struggled, I think my attitude through all this health bullshit has been pretty good. It feels like it was a necessary process, a cleansing on more levels than the scientific.
So yeah, February... more music, more ramblings. It is what I do. Give me comments, curses, donations, and death threats. Share it with your friends. I mean, it's gonna be here either way, but I've absorbed a good buffet of this and that in the first 36, and I would bet you probably have to. It's nice to toss it back out there and feel how we all ripple together. Most internet motherfuckers want you to recognize their greatness, or drive up their e-traffic. While I wouldn't mind that, because it would probably help those I will have to eventually get in bed with appreciate my wider appeal a little easier as I start rippling out this second spiral, I am very appreciative of those that I know are here regularly, and have been, some for years. We are in this together, and however successful or uneventful the coming years are for me, and whether my second spiral ripples out or fizzles into an embarrassing nothing, I am a loyal man, probably to a fault. We will always be in this together.
FIRST UP: Some old west coast feel-good gangsta shit!

J.J. Krupert Top 13 Countdown – January ’11 #1: “The Devil Never Sleeps” by Iron & Wine

Normally I do not get into music like this. But briefly, right as my early 2011 health breakdown started to hit, I got into Iron & Wine, and downloaded a whole bunch of their shit (or his... I don't know, from what I read I could never figure out if it was a dude or a group or both or what). It made perfect sense to me and I played it like crazy for a long minute there, all of it, enough so that I would imagine a couple more songs will show up in the coming couple of months of countdowns, being I limit it to one song per artist each month. Good acoustic-based stylings with some real ass lyrics about normal people shit.
Somewhere in the last 48 hours or so though, a change occurred. It started to sound whiny and annoying to me. I think this is all very healthy though, a good sign that I am actually healing back to who I am supposed to be. And this Iron & Wine was a good soundtrack for that time, that transition from what it was to what it is, or maybe just a solid diversion of my senses that made sense for where I was, so that I could be distracted and undergo the physical changes necessary before my mind focused back in on what was going through my ears. I am thankful for Iron & Wine and their extensive catalog of music for helping me with that. But I wouldn't exactly go out and hype them up to other people or anything. Still though, it's good stuff. And if you are a white person, and a partially moody type, I bet you'd like it. And let's face it, I would bet most of the people still around reading my blog are moody ass white people. That's not an insult at all; I love you all being there. I wish I could somehow turn these words into electric bills, but still having you out there reading my nonsense gibberish (which actually makes perfect sense in a nonsense world pretending to be in order), it is a thing that helps prop me up on the pillows at night, instead of hiding under the covers, hoping the sunshine never comes back.
STEAL “The Devil Never Sleeps”
NEXT MONTH: It's the shortest month of the year, and we are already up in it!

J.J. Krupert Top 13 Countdown – October ’10 #4: “Pagan Baby” by Creedence Clearwater Revival

Creedence is like the real deal white trash litmus test, because they’ve not experienced a hipster rebirth, but a lot of babies have been begun to a CCR soundtrack. A lot of trucks have been wrecked and friendships gone to fisticuffs with the Creedence in the background. As a kid, my folks played them, mostly the Willy and the Poor Boys record, which I thought the cover picture was taken down the road from us. Ain’t never been a band that more perfectly encapsulated rural twang but with a big picture view of it all.
At one point a while back, my ol’ lady said, “You know, we don’t listen to enough Creedence,” and she was right. So I stole a bunch from outside of the internet and now pretty much any Sunday morning, we are frying up homegrown bacon or sausage and letting that Fogerty rasp make it all just right. It’s also funny to see the repetition of my own youth for my children, yet I’ve tweaked the formula, hopefully for the far better. We’ll see. Everybody thinks they know, yet none of us do. And what works with one won’t work with two and might actually screw up three.
This is my favorite CCR song I never heard of before, meaning it’s not on any of those Grandes Exitos collections at Wal-Mart, and never will be. I honestly don’t even know where it came from, like what album, because it wasn’t part of my extensive collection back in the day either, as far as I know. But it’s an awesome goddamn song, and showed up regularly inside my cyberfiles after I looted some CCR from the internet. I could probably go back in there and find out what album it is, but then again so could you. Personally, I don’t think either one of us should.
STEAL “Pagan Baby”
NEXT UP: Country song of the year, real as fuck division!

First of Da Month

So I've started a print zine that hopefully I'll have a new issue of every two months. It's gonna be limited as fuck, doling out copies (along with some sort of retarded Raven care package) to the top three each month in my very personalized and non-scientific Mailed Shit To My Post Office Box monthly standings. I figured beginning of each month, I'd list out the top five, at this point a few them are cumulative from previous mailbox donations, along with the rating (on a 100-point scale) they accumulated to be in the top three, or be in the fourth or fifth spot to position themselves for next month, as once you make the top three, you reset to zero, thus hopefully encouraging a healthy pipeline of wacky and useful shit to my post office box, so long as I can deliver a worthwhile print-only zine to make it worth their while, along with whatever other dumb shit I put together to send out as well. Here are the top 5 mailbox rankings for May 1, 2010...
#1: RussMac in Georgia - dude hooked me up with the motherload of Iron Chef episodes, which for some reason are still not available on normal people DVD, along with the Iron Chef handbook, plus a ton of other wacky shit like space documentaries (perfect for stoners, as well as 11-year-old homeschoolers) and old UFCs and shit. 87.3 points.
#2: Pitz Dogg in North Cackalacka - an old roommate who seriously slid into second place on the last day of April by mailing me a literal styrofoam cooler of beer. Like I went to check my PO Box and there was the wonderful yellow card that says, "Go pick up some shit from the counter fool!" and I went and the guy came back out with a fucking styrofoam cooler with LIQUID and FRAGILE stamped all over it. I took it home and it was full of Canuck beer, mostly some Don De Dieus (which translates from Franch as "gangsta of god" beer) and a few Maudites (which do not jibe well with the sudden 90 degree heat we have in central Virginia). 64.2 points.
#3: Ten Dollar David in RVA - another old roommate of mines, who apparently broke his leg in severe fashion like where he couldn't walk for a while and now has a metal rod inside of him so all he did was sit around and do nothing. He got his nickname from me because the first time (and actually only time) I ever road a passenger train, I woke up on a hardwood floor wondering where the fuck I was. I had been living between couches in Richmond at the time, but did not recognize this particular hardwood floor. The night before had been a blur of whiskey and painkillers and purple passion and cop parties and chopping some girl with a samurai sword, and apparently I ended up in Williamsburg, at David's apartment, talking shit to his roommates, who he had just moved in with like two days before. Awesome. I had no money on me that I could find, so I had to borrow $10 from David to take the Amtrak back to Richmond. Except he had no money either, so we had to go to his work, some restaurant, where I sat around uncomfortably drinking a free water while he bummed the money from his boss. Then I went and bought a train tickets and laid on the bench sweating a thick and stanky whiskey sweat while the train station guard dude cut up the radio so I could listen to the Detroit Lions/Washington Redskins game that was going on that day. A wonderful memory. Oh yeah, what David had mailed me was a couple beers, plus a soccer magazine. 35.7 points.
#4: Jersey Jared - just missed the cut, and had previously hooked me up with like a giant case of fancy pumpkin truffles, plus frou-frou coffee, right about the time I started drinking frou-frou coffee, so long as it was cheap. And it don't get cheaper than free. First in line for next month, unless the PO Box has surprises. 27.9 points.
#5: Some dude Joel - bought me a subscription to Countryside magazine, which is still the greatest fucking magazine ever to be having a country compound for. Mother Earth News is for city faggots who go to political meetings and hang out on Facebook all the time, talking about oil spills and political scandals that don't involve them. Countryside is for people who want to build chicken houses out of old factory pallets. 17.4 points.
In case you didn't know, the post office box is on the sidebar, but it's Raven Mack PO Box 270 Scottsville, VA 24590. You're also always welcome to give me money through the Enable Rojonekku button, but nobody ever does that, and you don't get shit for it except if you give me enough money to buy some beer, I'll probably let you special request some bullshit for me to write about. I ain't got shit else to do.