Monday Night Rumble of The Discourse - Winter 2026 - Week 1

Just wanted to give a head's up that last night, a project called Monday Night Rumble of The Discourse returned, for a new 7-week series. We've had a few seasons of these before, but the last one was in the Spring of 2024. This project takes place in an abandoned concrete factory at the edge of town near where I live, and 27 different characters from across the political spectrum come and fight each other, to control The Discourse. For the first 6 weeks, they battle to accumulate points, to be entered into the season finale in Week 7. So we should have one of these every Monday night for the next 6 weeks as well. This is one of the bizarre things supported by my Southern Gothicc Futurism Patreon.

SONG OF THE DAY: Just That Type of Girl (kudzu'd)

Nothing extra to say with the video today. I use these as writing prompts to babble about some shit on here usually, but today I’ll just point out I do most of my online babbling at my Southern Gothicc Futurism patreon. And even with that, I’m babbling online less and less, because they’re squeezing the life out of it, trying to get me to buy things I don’t need, and need things that shouldn’t exist. Oh well. We can’t have nothin’ nice.

haiku spike drop - January 6, 2025

I began posting new haiku spikes on my Patreon, with the story behind them. It is a free post for all followers of the Patreon, so you don't have to be a paying subscriber to read it. You can scope that new post out here.
And as a reminder, scope out my Dirtgod Illegitimate Artz Emporium, where you can actually get the spikes. I also accept off-the-grid venmo/cashapp/cash for them as well (naturally).

Monday Night Rumble of The Discourse - Winter 2024

So if you are the type to fuck around on youtube, or care about the political discourse (or I guess, not care), then I was commanded to begin another 7-week series of The Monday Night Rumble of The Discourse for Winter 2024. Last week was Week 1 of the 7-week series. Tonight at 10 pm EST will be week 2. Plugging it here because I know everybody goes different places to see different things, and I'm a force of chaotic good who always forgets to scatter his nonsense in all four directions. This may end up being the last season because it's not clear if this stupid game is going to work on my computer anymore in two months (part of the side effects of using obsolete machinery beyond its intended lack of usage).

SONG OF THE DAY: The 900 Number

Time is a social construct, designed to imprison you behind anxieties over what ain't got done yet. It also increases your fear of natural mortality. You ain't got to do nothing but live. Dial my 900 number for more affirmations of fuck it like this. RIP 45 King.

SONG OF THE DAY: Oye Como Va (kudzu'd)

Southern Gothicc Futurism is the philosophy I live by. I don't exactly call it mine because I don't know how it came to be inside my mind enough to say I own it. But it's there. I've been writing on this blog for well over 15 years (probably longer). I also have a patreon, where Southern Gothicc Futurism is developed more fully, and where you can support me in cultivating that as well as all my fucked up arts. I even have a public samples link for you to get a taste of the patreon outside the paywall. I hate paywall. I hate walls. I hate money. But the society I am forced to navigate is full of bills and walls and all that shit. I'm doing the best I can.

SONG OF THE DAY: Mama He's Crazy (chopped & kudzu'd)

At one point on my patreon, I was chopping and kudzu'ing old country songs fairly regularly. I got a twelve-pack of them together, which I released on my bandcamp, and then began doing southern rock ones for the second twelve-pack. But I got stuck somewhere along the way. I tried a number of songs, and some were okay, but none were slamming. I'm too much of a perfectionist in some ways, in that unless something is hitting me in that moment, I can't let it go. Which is strange, because in my other creative endeavors, I literally do whatever without thinking, or thinking as little as possible. Not sure why fucking with remixing old songs is different. Anyways, the first twelve-pack is nothing but bangers, including this track. I always forget to hype my patreon or bandcamp on here, or the haiku spikes I do, or the fact I've been writing poems on bottles I find in the woods. It's kinda hard to catalog what I do, because I'm chaotic good in human form. The point of all this is to say there is no point. I'm not a store. I'm not perfect. I'm not even consistent. I just am.

SONG OF THE DAY: High Cost of Living (chopped & kudzu'd)

I’ve been chopping and screwing old country or country-adjacent songs off and on at my patreon, and actually released a 12-pack of these at my bandcamp when I had twelve old school jams done. This particular song has always felt like a theme song for my dad, and I was specifically picking songs I had some sort of relationship with to chop, because I feel you chop it different when you have that long-time relationship with a song. You dig in deeper than if you’re just jumping in to chop it (but no diss to that method at all). This song came out a few years after my dad had passed, but this one and Jamey Johnson’s “Can’t Cash My Checks” are just pure Charlie Tuna, and I know he would’ve loved this fuckin’ song so much had he been alive to hear it on the local country radio station that played in the small engine repair shop where he worked when he wasn’t too drunk or high to make it into work (usually Mondays, and often Fridays, because he got paid on Thursday evenings traditionally). I miss that fucker a lot of times, but also know if he had still been alive, man, it would’ve been hard all these years. The thing about death is you then get to slowly re-imagine a person in all their best attributes, and forgive their failures, because they ain’t failing nobody any more. And you hope they’ve found peace and comfort. I had a dream one time, which felt like a visit, but who knows for certain (metaphysical shit is far from certainty, by design), where I’d gone to the house he lived at when he died, in Victoria, not far from where a giant bustling train yard used to exist but had long been pulled out, vacating the town, which was essentially a railroad town for The Virginian line back in the days. Anyways, my dad had come up the outdoor steps from the basement, even though that house had no actual basement, and me and him were talking. He was all wired up from crank, like he often was the last few years whenever I saw him, and there was music bumping from the basement, so I knew there was folks in there and they were “partying” so to speak. He was asking about my kids, and we were shooting the shit, when I kinda realized he was stuck in that “party” mode which had sort of overtaken his ability to function in the end, and him being stuck in the basement felt like hell to me, for him. I thought this but didn’t say anything to him, because I didn’t wanna ruin the visit, but I could tell he could see what I was thinking. He was always very intuitive like that, even at his worst. Anyways, I woke up a bit shook by the dream, and it just made me hope even more so that whatever happens after one dies, it gave him some peace from the demons that had been fucking with his ability to enjoy life. It’s weird how “partying” is a way to enjoy life, but then gets in the way of enjoying life, and there’s no real definitive line of to where you went too far and got lost. You just kinda ended up on the wrong side of things, without planning, or even knowing precisely where that shit got fucked up. That’s why this is such a great fucking song, too, because it captures some unexplainable shit about as good as one can.

SONG OF THE DAY: Coat Of Many Colors (chopped & screwed)

Still chopping and screwing country classics, because it's a way I can reconcile where I came from with where I am. That shit is hard for a lot of people. The past becomes too much, and you can't ever leave it behind, or you just run from it over and over. Now is hard as fuck too for people, especially when that past blew so many holes in you. I don't know... sometimes I think I'm doing better, but other times I think I ain't done nearly enough. But I did this much.

SONG OF THE DAY: Goats Keep Rappening

This beat by Boogie Brown was the theme to Monday Night Rumble of The Discourse, as seen on MY PATREON (which you should totally support, if you are able). I really loved doing those Monday Night Rumbles of The Discourse, but it got tiring, not really the making of those videos but actually paying attention to The Discourse. It’s all so toxic, like drinking arsenic water, and it seems those who are invested in believing in politics actually believe you can drink up the poisonous constantly, and something good still will come from it, if you just believe. I can’t believe like that. I’m not willing to handle snakes all that much and pretend they’re not fucking snakes that ultimately will bit me. So the main reason I couldn’t keep up with doing those videos is fuck man, who wants to ingest all that much discourse voluntarily?
The track itself is amazing though, and I love it dearly. I loved it before I used it for the discourse rumbles, and I love it even more now, because every time I hear that one part, I expect my voice to come in talking about the abandoned concrete factory.

SONG OF THE DAY: Mama He's Crazy (chopped and screwed)

At my patreon (which is like on Only Fans but about weird art shit not nudity), I try to chop and screw an old country classic from time to time. Support my patreon, and enjoy this reworking of The Judds most famous song, under my chopping and screwing name of DJ Honeysuckle Vines Growing Over the Abandoned Factory at the Edge of Town.

SONG OF THE DAY: Oregano Flow (chopped and screwed)

I begun a project called Screw Scholarship at my patreon the past couple days, where I'm gonna go through like the first 250 chapters of released DJ Screw tapes. Why? Because fuck it. Why not here instead? Because I don't know, the internet is weird now. I mean, you can get access to my patreon for as low as $1 a month, and I've been posting there nearly daily for the past few months. At higher levels you get other benefits too, and it seems to me my ridiculous world-building shit is worth support. It's really hard to explain exactly what I do as an artist, much less how I use patreon for those purposes. But what I do is unique, and soulful, and worth getting fucking supported. Anyways, this is a random mention of my patreon on my public blog, although mostly that means my sister will read it, and then feel like she has to join my patreon. MICHELLE! YOU DON'T HAVE TO JOIN MY PATREON!

a reminder that I have a Patreon

Scope the link to the right or click this, but I've been running a Patreon for a few years now, which is somehow full of just as much content as this constant ass blog has. I assume folks know, but I'm not sure they do, and I don't know that folks that support my Patreon even know this blog exists. Who knows? The daily photograph/gambleraku I post here actually compose sets of thirty that I post all together on my Patreon. Other things that go on there:

• shard tanka with tanka poems written with google street view screenshots
• fairly regular haiku batches
• a Dollarstore Tournament Fighting tournament set in an unreal town called Dirtrock (where I actually live)
• random sonnets or commentary
• just started a thing called The Maradona which is a soccer-related list thing in memory of Diego Maradona

Anyways, just throwing this in here in case anybody sees this that didn't know about that, and vice versa. I create a myriad of shit all across multiple media, both digital and physical, all of it accessible in different ways but none of it entirely connected. It's more like tendrils wandering wherever rather than a well-organized English garden. It's a beautiful mess, just like me, which makes sense.

dirtgod transmissions and a patreon reminder

Hey, consider this a friendly reminder that I operate a Sovthern Gothicc Fvtvrism patreon as well, that you can support. I've made the majority of the posts I've been making recently public instead of patrons-only though. I had thought about doing a podcast again, even though I hate podcasts, so instead I did a quick recording of some thoughts over top an older Boogie Brown aka Blue Globe Beats beat, and then generated some visuals using weird freeware. These are called dirtgod transmissions. I may do them every day for the rest of my life, or I may not ever do another one...

dirtgod transmissions 001: riptides & pyramids

dirtgod transmissions 002: I regret to inform you...

D0LL4R ST0R3 LVCH4D0R 1N...

dollar store luchador in

lime green light - an artistic

photograph by raven mack

D3M0CR4T1C-S0C14L1STS...

democratic-socialists

not built to do the dirty

work needed to create change

NPR D1SCVSS1NG TH3...

NPR discussing the

artistry of MMA,

thus enabling fascism

SONG OF THE DAY: We Need Some Money (Live)

Been trying to hype MY PATREON in order to have artistic endeavors supported financially, but the hardest part for me is marketing myself, because I don’t come from an arts supporting tax bracket background. So it becomes an internal jihad question of empathy and entitlement, because I saw a dude with a blue check by his name make a post, which I’m sure he’d say was tongue-in-cheek or not serious (as nothing ever is with entitled people) asking for sponsorship of a trip for five to Las Vegas to go watch some wrestling bullshit. I mean, sure if you can find the rubes dumb enough to support shit like that, go for it. The fucked up thing is at exactly the same time I saw friends posting how their EBT got cut off due to government shutdown, and also saw stories of people’s rent vouchers running out in February, also because of government shutdown, so folks wrestling with hunger and homelessness as real life issues. As I know folks in that position, and have been dependent upon government services at times in both my adult and juvenile life, it’s hard not to feel empathy for that, and see a certain inhumane disconnect to be like “lol send me to Las Vegas to watch fake fights” while motherfuckers out here starving.

Ultimately, this is why I’m horrible at marketing myself, because I know how hard money is to come by, still don’t have it, and know if I get it, hardly none of its gonna ever go to a patreon, simply because even 8 years of stability at the same employer, in terms of multi-generational stability, well I’m at 8 years lol. So the resources remain slim, and yet so much better than a lot of people. I mean, I got food in my cupboard I’m like “nah, I don’t feel like eating that” so it gets pushed to the back. Having known hunger and empty cabinets, I recognize the privilege in that.

So I wrestle with how do I approach people who have extra wealth, who enable the arts, when I’m not that type of person, nor will I likely ever be? And if ultimately I have issue with the system itself which breeds this level of inequality and human disconnect, where your neighbors are struggling and starving, and you’re out here wanting people to give you money to write poetry, I don’t know, I haven’t figured out how to walk that line yet. But I know I need some damn money, and I know others need it too, and I know this shit is broken that we’re living in, broken at the core, y’all can’t blue paint away the internal rot, y’all can’t even green paint it or whatever fuckin’ color fake socialist democrats mark themselves… the shit’s broken. But I also know it’s Friday, and life can’t be all depression and gloom and even revolution gotta be fun. So I’mma throw on some go-go music, after work gonna get my hair cut, might wear a whole fuckin’ Adidas track suit tonight, fuck it, no shirt on too, 20 pounds overweight after holiday slothfulness ass belly hanging out, not giving a fuck. My kids present to me for Christmas was an Adidas track suit, and I ain’t even wore it yet, because hadn’t had no fresh enough heart day to rock it. Maybe I let my brain tell my heart today, “Fuck it heart, I know I keep telling you shit is fucked up, but it’s Friday, you got a three day weekend, so fuck it, let’s lounge.”

If you enable the arts, enable me, please. People support far worse at far higher levels. And if you’re broke perpetually and hate the system like me, let’s tear it up, but not all serious style and recreation of power structures and act like somebody’s gotta be in charge and shit, let’s just tear shit up and have fun and take what we can and then when it’s all gone and we’re like “oh fuck, what now?” we figure out what then. But with go-go drums.

RVA '94 homicides project at my patreon

I have a number of ongoing projects happening at my Patreon (YOU SHOULD SUPPORT ME!), but one I started with the New Year was revisiting the 1994 homicide list of Richmond, Virginia. I lived in Richmond at the time, and it was RVA’s worst year ever in terms of murder – one that helped us have the public image of a murderous place back then. I’m using google map’s and the internet to look back on these things, examining how Richmond’s changed, as well as how little information the internet actually has about news items from what seems like such a short time back in the grand scheme of things. It’s all a very subjective exploration of these themes, and likely there’s nothing groundbreaking about it, but its interesting stuff nonetheless. In writing the second one today, it accidentally triggered some pretty hard feels for some reason, likely because I’m too much of an empath (can you be too much of an empath?) but also, well, it just did. I made the post a public one instead of just for patrons, so please check it out. RVA ’94 Homicides second update

The Adventures of Russell Jones heroic crown of sonnets

FYI, I have a Patreon, which is where people can support the creative work somebody else is doing on a monthly basis. With my patreon, you unlock various levels of rewards, which might be as simple as just seeing the posts, or go all the way up to getting postcards with poems in the mail. I also randomly give away a railroad haiku spike through the patreon each month, and began this month also doing a heroic crown of sonnets where one patron requests the subject matter.

The way the haiku spike drawings work is you get one chance per every dollar pledged, and while this is fair way to better reward those who support more, I wanted to do something that made it equal for all patrons, which is how the heroic crown project works. The person I drew randomly for this first heroic crown requested the theme be The Adventures of Russell Jones aka The Ol' Dirty Bastard, and I've already written two sonnets towards the crown's completion. I wanted to share the first one, as a way of sharing, but also as a way of pointing out I have a patreon. There is a completely ridiculous project which will hopefully launch next week as well, which I hope will become my most consuming nonsense gibberish in some time.

And even if you don't support me, support illegitimate artists. People making up their fucked up art in their fucked up ways are what keep this world beautiful in my opinion.

[pic stolen from internet]

A fatherless style born from American slums, 
a young visionary outlier, street-crier, 
Ol' Dirty Bastard was one of a kind, most rare 
American lies denier, following drums 
not fully understood by most - he was higher 
than most. Others orbited his natural shine, 
attempting to glean science from his glowing flow, 
growing rappening prose constantly from divine 
stream of conscious. Too many folks pretend to know 
alternative reality at most unique 
level... shit maybe the dirtgod's guilty of that 
as well. But young wild style Russell was born to seek, 
never follow, chasing dragons, living life fat 
as fuck and to the fullest, foolishly, with flair. 
Ol' Dirty Bastard was one of a kind, most rare.