M4NVF4CTVR3D D1V1S10NS...

manufactured divisions 
easily poison weak brains, 
so seek out the true-hearted 

M4NVF4CTVR1NG W1LD SP1R1TS...

manufacturing "wild" spirits 
through industrial process 
only drunkens basic norms 

SONG OF THE DAY: Lowdown (kudzu'd)

This is Boz Skaggs funkiest song, slowed down. In fact, it’s his only funky song, which is testament to the healing moments of soul that still exist inside white people. We need to be more proactive about unleashing that potential, but it’s kinda like a trick because the only way you can be “proactive” about doing something like that is to do the opposite of what productivity myths tell us. Sometimes the hardest work to be doing involves learning how to fuck off better.

SONG OF THE DAY: Down Home

There’s a train yard I love not far from where I sleep most of the time, and it’s a rundown part of a rundown city that has a neat ass throwback name to whatever it had once been. Some folks made a microbrewery with the name, even though the actual microbrewery is in a different part of the rundown town, but people love a microbrewery, so that other rundown part of the rundown city is becoming less rundown as the microbrewery starts buying up abandoned warehouses and converting it into shared spaces and coffeehouse and shit like that. Anyways, the microbrewery with the throwback name that has nothing to do with them making beer in a nearby section of the rundown city just won some big ass dork beer award – saw it on my google news feed. Plus, they got microbrewery spots in another city now too, expanding their “brand” (which of course is a forgotten industrial sector in a rundown city that they’ll market themselves as savior of once they keep expanding their renovating footprint). If you look at the beer website of the place, all the founders and key players in their structure are wacky smiling white dudes with large but well-trimmed beards. This is progress to most folks, but not to me. I can kinda give it the benefit of the doubt and pretend it’s the lesser of two evils maybe, but even then, I don’t feel like giving it the benefit of the doubt, because they also just cleared out a semi-permanent homeless camp that’s closer to the beer company’s namesake than their tasting room, and I don’t see these quirky white men out here doing shit about homelessness or drug addiction or poverty, other than pretending that having to hire more wait staff to serve impatient beer tourists somehow qualifies them as leading public citizens. I don’t know man, the microbrewery cosplaying as industrial titan thing is so tiring at this point, I’m not even sure how I got a couple hundred words of griping out about it.

WH3N STR1PP3D D0WN T0 MY 3SS3NC3...

when stripped down to my essence, 
no industrial purpose 
causes my heart to vibrate 

a freestyle sonnet about being a yard art freak

Manmade world is riddled with manufactured sleights 
of hand (and mind) designed to confound and entrap. 
I'm inclined to not give a fuck - the sounds and sights 
of half-abandoned happenstance entrance. The scrap 

and detritus of industrial purpose (less) 
decorates my simple existence; one man's trash 
becomes environmental blessings once the mess 
is rearranged to be physical balderdash - 

nonsensical contraptions spinning and clanging 
in the winds of change. Rebar clankyjangers bloom 
throughout my yard, greater Appalachian twanging 
of unseen Blue Ridge back road far from highway's zoom 

between far more important places to extol; 
meanwhile, this shiftless prole maintains his aimless stroll. 

TH3 W0RLD W3'V3 BV1LT 41N'T M4D3 F0R...

the world we’ve built ain’t made for 
comfort, or peace of mind; I 
can only control myself 

W4ND3R TH3 W4ST3L4ND'S 3DG3S...

wander the wasteland’s edges 
and ponder the pointlessness 
of chasing your false purpose 

4N0NYM0VS S0L1TVD3...

anonymous solitude 
in the rusting margins of 
man’s declining industry 

SONG OF THE DAY: Superjock

Decided my DJ name now is Professor Lounge. Address me as that when I'm playing 45s at the correct 33 speed to properly unlock the deeper funk held within but not allowed to be expressed by our hyper-time sensitive culture built on the industrial fallacy of we must always be productive. I look forward to spinning this record (which I recently got, so recent it hasn't arrived in the mailbox yet) at the right (wrong) speed soon enough.

C4L3ND4RS H3LD T0G3TH3R...

calendars held together 
by obligations and 
honor codes… things fall apart 

4S 4 HVM4N B31NG, 1'M...

as a human being, I’m 
more akin to fresh weeds than 
abandoned mechanisms 

M4NVF4CTVR3D PVRP0S3 C4STS...

manufactured purpose casts 
long shadows in our culture, 
but I ain’t got to do shit 

N3WN3SS 1S 1MP0SS1BL3...

newness is impossible 
to maintain, so why bother? 
(“Sisyphean” repurposed) 

1NDVSTR14L S4ND C4STL3S...

industrial sand castles 
washed out easily enough 
(nature makes no humane claims) 

TH3 R3MN4NTS 0F B31NG W0RN...

the remnants of being worn 
out gets piled up and ignored 
(“can’t stop won’t stop” attitude) 

"TR4D1T10N4L" W4YS S0M3T1M3S...

“traditional” ways sometimes 
means post-industrial phase 
(older, simpler ways exist) 

R1V3RS 4ND R41LR04DS R3PL4C3D...

rivers and railroads replaced 
by interstates, allowing 
suburbs to metastasize 

C0NS1D3R1NG WH3TH3R 1'V3...

considering whether I’ve 
been industrious or not 
betrays my natural state 

BV1LD1NG P13C3M34L SP1R1TV4L...

building piecemeal spiritual 
generators of joy in 
world too damned industrious