SONG OF THE DAY: Truckin' (kudzu'd)

I love them old flat faced tractor and trailers, which I guess are just the tractor with or without the trailer, but if I said “tractor”, you’d imagine the wrong thing entirely. I hadn’t checked the Powerball numbers from the other night, but if I won, I’m not moving nowhere. But I’m gonna surround the yard with old school vintage big rigs, painted back in the day in bold and garish designs, but now faded mot likely, and line them up like transformer sentinels, facing outwards around the entire perimeter of my land. It’s not even my land though, just says so at the courthouse and I have to pay property taxes on it because of all that, so since I’m guessing I’d be rich, I’d also start putting them flat faced guardians elsewhere on the Earth, down in the woods, along the river here or there, just leave them. And on the inside, we’ll leave behind cryptic poems or essays. In fact, fuck it, let’s just have a special compilation zine of what happens after the end times, with vague threats about the rights of nature overtaking police state, and we’ll leave a new issue in every flat faced sentinel guard big rig we scatter as ominous but beautiful warning. In fact, it won’t be ominous at all, unless you’re an asshole, who wants to keep going the way things are in overdrive, as if it’s sustainable. Anyways, I might check those Powerball numbers later tonight, or I might this fantasy ferment for another day or two.

SONG OF THE DAY: I Feel Alright

Ah yes, the false feel good song attempting to trick yourself into enjoying the struggle… a necessary artistic evil in this crooked world.

SONG OF THE DAY: Rock Your Baby (kudzu'd)

In the summer, I’d call it foggy brain, but it’s cold as fuck so it feels more like mush brain. The thoughts don’t chop through as cleanly, and get hung up on the briars of memory or fear or delusion or shit man I don’t even know. In periods like this, I try to be chill to myself and just survive the sludge. We expect too much from ourselves sometimes, especially those of us who make a habit of handling way too much because we never could trust others to come through with solid support. You get to a point where you depend on yourself to be impossibly solid, inhumanely solid. It ain’t sustainable at a forever pace. So when it all turns to sludge and the ability to plan much less do gets mushy, fuck it man, just ride it out. Most of what you think you need to do, you don’t need to do. Maintain the minimum, and rest. Not just not doing stuff but worried about it anyways idleness, but deep lean into it rest. Sink into the covers and let the mush envelope you. It’ll clear out. It always does.

SONG OF THE DAY: Flag of Hate

WAS CONTEMPLATING FRIDAY IN FALL FEELINGS OF FUCK-IT-NESS, WITH A PERSONAL HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVE.

40 YRS AGO I WOULD’VE BEEN 6, SO PROBABLY JUST COMING HOME FROM SCHOOL, FUCKING OFF, HOPING THINGS WEREN’T CRAZY.

30 YRS AGO I WOULD’VE BEEN AMPED UP FOR DRUNKEN AND DRUGGED DEBAUCHERY. FALL WAS ALWAYS A GREAT TIME TO DROP ACID, AND HIDE OUT ON LOGGING TRAILS WITH FRIENDS, BEING YOUNG AND STUPID AND BEAUTIFUL AND TRYING TO RUSH AGE EVEN DEATH.

20 YRS AGO WOULD’VE HAD A BABY AND ALSO WORKED AT THE COPY SHOP HALF A DAY ON SATURDAYS SO LIKELY STILL DRANK TO GET DRUNK BUT NOT SO MUCH I WAS A NON-FUNCTIONING ALCOHOLIC.

10 YRS AGO WOULD’VE BEEN SELF-EMPLOYED THUS MOSTLY UNEMPLOYED AND ALSO VERY MUCH A POUNDER OF A 12-PACK A DAY, LIKELY AT HOME, WITH THREE CHILDREN NOW, AND MAN I’M SO FUCKING THANKFUL I AM WHO I AM NOW NOT WHAT I WAS ALL OF THOSE OTHER THENS, ALTHOUGH ALL OF THAT MADE ME WHAT THIS IS NOW.

I WONDER WHAT WILL BE TEN YEARS FROM NOW?