45s on 33 – #94: “Buscarte Para Que”

The camera I have was in my hands as I walked down into the field the first time I remember hearing the Space Espanol. It was twilight, which is a great time for the camera I have because I put it on baby mode (no flash) and it still sucks up strange rays of between day and night, giving everything a foggy glow, just like my eyeballs see a lot of times. The rock altar was there, and I have a few tiny unpolished pieces of amethyst scattered in it, including one at the top pedestal next to the homemade orgone coil of lounge generation. That piece of amethyst was glowing bright lavender in the twilit sky. And the Space Espanol was playing. I’m still not clear if the Space Espanol had started and drew me down to the field where the rock altar and broken jukebox were, or if it started as I got closer, or what – the specificity of memory is sometimes blurred in important moments like that. But by the time my memory catches up to what happened, I know for sure I was there, with the camera I have, and the amethyst was glowing bright, and the Space Espanol music was playing. I tried snapping some pictures of the amethyst but it kept fogging out, camera unable to catch it right, like a sky or full moon.

As I said in the beginning, “Space Espanol” seems like a stupid term for what was making sounds but it’s appropriate. It didn’t sound like Spanish I knew from jobsites, but was similar, perhaps based on the same basic structures. But it felt non-earthly, which again, none of this makes logical sense. I really struggle with that, because the demons inside start piping up with their voices, “You are stupid, these things aren’t real, what the fuck is wrong with you?” And I start to want to distance myself from believing what I know I’m experiencing.

After wasting about 69 blurry pictures on my SD card, I stopped trying to take pictures of the glowing amethyst, and walked over to the jukebox. It was on F8, and every time I’d gone to it, I’d bumped it up one, so I put it to F9. Now understand my broken jukebox sits underneath a red maple and the power cord for it is plugged into the dirt near the red maple’s base. I could feel a burst at the base underneath, in the ground, and light purple glow, similar to the unpolished amethyst, traveled up the cord, disappeared into the jukebox machine, where I could hear some gears springing and pings ponging and old machinery undoing itself, and then with a visual boom (but little additional sound) a watermelon-sized purple orb came out the front speaker cabinet of the ragged jukebox. This was full of natural seeds, full-sized watermelon, not tiny seedless transmogrification sized. The orb was similar to the Heart Star I had previously seen, which Ellabell had been inside of, but this one was darker. It floated around, solar flare like, where I couldn’t focus on it but it was definitely there, then just like the Heart Star, it surrounded my head.

Look, despite all this babble, I am a logical person, with fairly decent critical thinking skills, so I knew the previous time this happened the glowing orb was full of bouncing happy girls, I expected the same. And there were small people-ish shapes in there, somersaulting and back flipping and running hoo-hahaing in excited spirals, but they had dark shaggy hair, the color of ancient sand, and appeared to be boys, not girls. One floated right to the front of the images I thought I was seeing (but am not sure, obviously) and though his mouth never moved, it certainly felt like he said, “What up? I'm Rey-Rey.”

don't rightly remember how 

we got there, but there we was - 

hundred fifty miles from home

weather-edited journals 

reveal the futility 

of humane creative acts

45s on 33 – #95: “Bad Bad Leroy Brown”

Nice cars (like long Cadillac) or nice clothes (like silk draws) or fine women (or whatever sexual desire you make a trophy into objectified status)… these are the suggestions of the demons who tell you of desire. This is how the moments of inspiration that add up to years of effort get hijacked into red. You think of others who use what appears to be their inspiration and spin that into gold, spin it into all the material desires those little demons perched on your shoulder suggest you should have to. These desires are always black – the opposite of the Heart Stars – but leave you in a red state of anguish and frustration. Even when the visions floating in the black desires are grasped, they never move from black, because there are more already crowding those to the side. There’s always one more thing to be had, one more thing to be “needed”, one more thing that will finally make you feel whole (you think) – at least you tell yourself.

We get told to define our successes in these dark desires’ terms, in the black demon suggestions we are able to accumulate. We view others as lesser when they don’t accumulate as much, when they have less. It’s their own fault – not the demons, not the devils behind the demons, no… it’s purely their own fault.

And then there are the devils who have vast collections of these desires, born with it in their devil genetic lines, so even if they realize how wrong it is and shun it as much as possible, the darkness remains a burden on their existence, though none of us acknowledge this. We pretend those dark clouds are what make us great, make us successful.

Those demons are bad. I take pictures every day, pictures of my little world and little worlds within that world that I create (not produce), and the camera I use is the one I have. I have had other cameras but they haven’t felt the same, and sometimes the price has been more, on purpose, because the demons tell me, “You are great. What if you had a great camera too? What if you had a nice camera, like those other people?” But any time I’ve had a different camera, it has not worked like the camera I have. So when the camera I have breaks (which it has), I get another camera just like the camera I have, usually for dirt cheap, because it is old and obsolete and nobody has demons on their shoulder telling them to get a camera like the one I create with.

The demons tell you that you are never good enough. But the fucked up thing about the demons is they get inside of you. Somehow they gain access, not sure how (though I suspect the brain) but they crawl down into your guts and wrap their little demon tendrils all around your intestines and up through your stomach and try to clutch at your heart. They can never get in there, so when The Inspiration comes, it is still pure heart thought, but they get right there so they can grab at it with the demon suggestions as soon as The Inspiration radiates from your heart outward.

Most of our best creations as upright monkey people suggest that these demons get their comeuppance, that these demons eventually meet their match in someone who is just a little more powered by what is right and what is heart than the demon. I’m not sure how that happens when those demons get inside of you, and start to working at The Inspirations as they are born, and the frustrated inspirations from before have started to congeal, and the emissions from heart become smaller and the demons are right there to grab at what can still get through, waiting to pounce on it and pepper spray it with all the psychic blackness.

SPORTSBALL 69: June 2016 Day Three of the three

(you know how we do; kickin' it like boban)

In order to instill Golden Ratio blessings unto this initial Sportsball 69, to hopefully universally magnetize all further future endeavors under this banner, I have decided to employ Fibonacci sequence to the syllabic blurbage for these top 23 teams. SEE YOU IN TWO MONTHS WITH THE NEXT INSTALLATION OF THIS METAPHYSICAL NONSENSE GIBBERISH!

#1: BARCELONA (278 pts): Spain. Champs. Messi. Plus Suarez. Plus stupid Neymar. And yet somehow, they still struggled.

#2: BAYERN MUNICH (241 pts): Pep. Champs. German. Mongoloids. Eternal red wealth. Those dudes in crowd keep waving flags. Robotic German arms continue waving those flags. LIKE THE WHOLE FUCKING GAME EVERY GAME, THOSE DUDES DO NOT EVER STOP WAVING THOSE FLAGS!

#3: REAL MADRID (219 pts): Spain. Blech. Bitches. Weak football. I hate Ronaldo. Fashion magazine modern sport. Hologram jerseys never get blemished by real dirt.

#4: AL AHLY (217 pts): Kings. Gold. Masters. Al Ahly. Where Pharoahs are born. Billed as “Club of the Century”. The ultras overthrew President Morsi’s regime. Attained complete perfect season in 2005, unbeaten in 55 games. A true people’s team born from student union century ago, and maintains level of patriotism deeper than just government. Send me to Cairo to soak in Ahly vs. Zamalek, a true blood rivalry, which both teams are still in group play of African Champions League this season, so they both could advance, and be drawn together for two-leg war.

#5: ESPERANCE ST (177 pts): Blood. Gold. Tunis. Esperance? Doesn’t that mean hope? North African football hates France. The legacy of colonialism still lives. A top Tunisian player still is worth more in Europe than at home in Africa. These are the lingering effects of the era of conquest, where the leagues considered world champions are also the ones which took the whole world.

#6: GUANGZHOU EVERGRANDE (174 pts): Wack. Wealth. Chinese. On the rise. It’s all new money. Owned by the Chinese ebay group. Top Chinese soccer is built off smoke and mirror wealth. It will wisp away like smokestack emissions, nothing left but creosote of failed dreams.

#7: DINAMO ZAGREB (165 pts): Rough. Raw. Balkan. Bad Blue Boys. Somewhat infamous. Champions League draw to avoid. If you go to Zagreb for football, you might get stabbed.

#8: CELTIC (153 pts): Green. Proud. Old Firm. Antifa. British pariahs. Scotland’s premier dominant force. Brendan Rodgers appointed new manager/new hope. Bastard Rangers’ recent promotion means return to regular blood feud rivalry. About to begin another mid-summer early qualifying round Champions League two-legger against some Euro bottom feeder. But football builds heartfelt fanaticism not in corporate spotlight moments but all those obscure memories during remote minutes which blur together into supporters’ passion deeper than literal ownership.

#9: AL-HILAL (153 pts): Boss. Oil. Saudis. King Fahd Stadium. Half their players named Abdullah.

#10: THE NEW SAINTS (152 pts): Welsh. Saints. Minnows. Not “British”. Sports green and white hoops. Home stadium seats two thousand. At one point were known as “Total Network Solutions”. Actual full name is “The New Saints of Oswestry Town & Llansantffraid Football Club”.

#11: ES SETIF (148 pts): Dumb. List. “Sportsball”. Black Eagles. Algerian Champs. Fibonacci blurbs is stupid.

#12: PARTIZAN (146 pts): Serbs. Crazed. For real. Insane fans. (All Serbs are insane.) At first, Yugoslav army team. Their ultras called Grobari, which means “undertakers”. Dominant during pre- and post-Yugoslavia, and to be honest, they scare me.

#13: SHAKHTAR DONETSK (142 pts): Wax. Tap. “Waxtap”. (From their crest.) Displaced due to war. Used to have like nine superstars. Sold them all off, still ruling Ukrainian football.

#14: JEONBUK HYUNDAI MOTORS (129 pts): Cars. CARS. Dak Gong. “Dinos” once. They rock lime green kits. Recent Korean K-League kings. Drunk drove my friend’s mom’s Hyundai Excel lots in high school.

#15: RED STAR BELGRADE (126 pts): Serbs. Reds. “The Star”. Balkan wild. Eternal Derby. That’s Red Star/Partizan showdowns. Imagine drunken militant Balkan berserkers. Then multiply that by two, add pyrotechnics, homemade weaponry – LET’S PLAY FOOTBALL!

#16: EMELEC (123 pts): Chill. Ball. Chillball. Ecuador. Called “El Bombillo”. Technically, that means “light bulb”. And yet Ecuador recognizes Rights of Nature.

#17: ASANTE KOTOKO (121 pts): Black. Stars. Gold Coast. All red kits. Porcupine Warriors. A top Ghanaian football team. Motto: Kill a thousand, and a thousand more will come. Their crest, in fact, refers to the Kingdom of Ashanti, pre-colonialism. Owned by the actual emperor of the Empire of Asante, which still exists as an entity, although it’s rule is not final.

#18: LINFIELD (121 pts): Blues. Fucks. Minnows. Protestants. Irish (Northern part). Sectarian conflict on pitch. Current ownership tries to move on; history don’t. Currently managed by Northern Irish legend, David Healy (all-time goalscorer).

#19: FENERBAHCE (118 pts): Turks. Strong. Sketchy. Fixed some games. Yellow Canaries. Galatasaray’s main rivals. Founded in secrecy during Ottoman Empire.

#20: NACIONAL (115 pts): Whites. Yeah. Hinchas. El Parque. Uruguayan champs. Fans displayed largest flag ever.

#21: CHELSEA (115 pts): Blues. Trash. Roman. Corporate. Soulless entity. At what psychic cost comes winning? We truly do live in dark age reign of quantities. (I wonder if Rene Guenon – were he still alive – enjoy the English Premier League?)

#22: PARIS SAINT-GERMAIN (114 pts): French. Champs. Fuck them. Rouge et Bleu. Owned by Qataris. Still worship Zlatan (though he’s gone).  Good example of modern football (in the bad ways). For real though – fuck modern football’s billionaire owners pricing out drunk criminal fans.

#23: AL-JAISH (111 pts): Shrug. Yawn. STARS LEAGUE! From Qatar. Arab football’s fucked. Their crest looks militant as fuck. Kick it in Abdullah bin Khalifa Stadium.

NEXT TIME: shooting for August 1, for a bi-monthly feature, but keeping this thing deeply in spirit of football metaphysics (which is essentially life metaphysics), one can never predict how the “hand of god” will alter master plans made by feeble monkey man mind; perhaps the golden ratio plan was a struggle, but all supreme mathematics are.

second step-grandfather had 

stacks of trucking magazines; 

I fantasized of been gone

45s on 33 – #96: “Long Train Runnin’”

I previously thought of creativity similar to marking up trains. One didn’t get paid for their creativity, and in fact it was mostly frowned upon by industrious society, as a less-than-industrious activity to waste your life with. But when left alone, unseen, where the freight trains sat still between obligations to industry, you could mark them up, either in abundance with small cryptic illustrated poetries or longer form large mural style epics. It was up to the artist. Then these arts would wander the country along our industrialized arteries, scattering your art throughout the perverted American landscape, and hopefully pollinate other people’s insides with your own madness, which remained unowned, and mostly illegal.

But having had that Heart Star float around my head, it sort of ruined this industrial fetish of mine, that I should be “producing” art, whether words or images, in fact that I “produced” anything at all. The industrialization of humanity is a relatively recent event in the grand scale of hominoids making tools upon the earth’s surface, and if I am a machine, I’m a really shitty one, prone to philosophical breakdowns daily. (Machines don’t even have philosophy, even new-fangled computerized machines programmed with artificial intelligence. Thus, I must be the worst machine.)

The Heart Star rubbed my face down in the field in the natural fact that, well, I’m more natural than machine. Manmade things find their separation in Man vs. Nature argument by being extracted, changed, and remanifest into a new tool. I have not been extracted from anything, nor have I been separated and reformed (thankfully). I suspect that perhaps these things might be tried on me, psychologically, psychically, subliminally, subconsciously, but they are not obvious things, and despite all our wonderful advances, hominoids remain some obvious motherfuckers with our heavy-handed, light-hearted “manmade” ways.

Thus, I’ve got to be nature, not machine. So if I’m scattering images or words or both or more or less or the great myriad of whatevers that constantly emit from oak nut people like myself, it’s not “producing” anything. It’s just doing. And the explanation of The Inspiration that Ellabell gave me as I gazed in on her little paradise city of inspired existence, it meant that the orders to do what I’ve thought of as producing arts were not actual orders that came from somewhere, but more likely just as natural as DNA or creeping phlox blossoms or dandelions growing, whether in roadside patch of random grass or in neglected concrete crack in the middle of hustling, bustling civilized pretend-industrialized people.

And yet, those long trains running along manmade tracks – the hours and hours and years and lives of manpower used to hammer forged spikes into steels lines on wooden ties snuggled into gravel mound beds – even though it is industrious as hell, to a perverse level, it also has some strange natural quality to it. There’s something about trains, especially when marked up with cryptic mad monkey signs and rainbow murals of human monikers, even more especially when trawling along riversides, making the arteries of continental land masses, and also philosophically and literally leading back into those vast oceans of primordial salty nature what which one has to assume all natural life sprung up out of with a lightning strike of get going at some strange point long before this era of scientific inquiry.

Oddly, this has freed me greatly when revisiting the trains lately, not feeling compelled to do the same markings I normally do, to keep my production uniform, to make it obvious all these little white Mark-all paint stick characters come from the same person, because I am not a machine, and do not need to stamp a brand on my creations. Yeah – creations, not productions; I create shit, and no longer produce any thing at all.

all your shadows belong to 

us, moon patrol destinies 

manifest, thank you based god

SPORTSBALL 69: June 2016 Day Two of the three

(internet sports sciences, simplified beyond belief)

The methodology for this list this first time is simple – I valued teams for finishing in the top 3 of their domestic league for each of the past ten years, with most recent year weighted heaviest, most not recent year (10 years ago) weighted lightest, with 3 for first, 2 for second, and 1 for third. I also did this for the top continental club tournaments per continental confederation (except Oceania because lolol how the fuck do you play proper football on the ocean?) and also even the world club championships, so that some teams got bonus plus points from those things. But also, look I am a real dude doing real things in a supremely real life, so it’s not like I’m gonna do this for every domestic league on earth. So I did some of them. Which ones? Whichever ones seemed most important to me in an intuitively gut level, as well as probably the most prominent ones on earth, although that itself is a self-perpetuating colonialism, and I don’t want my Sportsball 69 project to be tainted by such bullshit (even though it probably will because we probably always are). But I did a lot of them, most all the big ones from Europe and some of the other countries that I am fascinated by, and the top couple in Africa and Japan and North America and a big chunk of South America, but all these leagues have different chaoses and structures, so even with my set method here for this first time listing, it got messed up here or there. You know what I did in those instances? Whatever felt truest to the purpose, even if that meant just straight up skipping years or giving up because it required too much research (beyond the magic combo of Wikipedia and Soccerway).

So now that you know the basic dork matrix methodology for this first month’s list, let’s run through the middle third…

#24: DYNAMO KYIV (110 pts): top Ukrainian team, so top that it was still mid-top even during Soviet philosophical colonization; post-Soviet collapse has been stalwart Kings of Free Ukraine, 28 times 28 times 28 times champion of domestic league, including a lucky 13 times as champion numero uno of Soviet top league (now long fractured into this and that)

#25: BOCA JUNIORS (109 pts): Maradona’s psychic home, and perhaps the most popular South American team on earth, although supported at home by legit crazy fuckers; I guess could sort of be considered the ManU of South America (weird how lots of dudes like those two teams specifically) but only if ManU were unpolished, non-corporate, and still street legit (and barrio approved)

#26: CERRO PORTENO (108 pts): Paraguay’s hardcore darlings, and old and popular FC for that nation, who remains most relevant thru the footballs

#27: MANCHESTER UNITED (106 pts): basically the Boca Juniors of White Earth; home to lemonface Wayne Rooney, the most easily hated man in all of the world’s football; and now also the home to self-hype machine Jose Mourinho, who will spend millions of euros and hopefully fail immediately (instead of his usual 18 months down the road)

#28: AKTOBE (104 pts): aka the Aktyubinets, top Kazakh club owned literally by “Aktobe Region” – a true team of the people who make their small-steppe nation way into early stages of European cups to confound richer, more sterilized and easily shocked footballing nations; goat meat forever in my opinion

#29: STEAUA BUCURESTI (104 pts): shout out to Romania’s most trophied up club; shout out those north African/east European sporting clubs with not only football but also basketball, handball, swimming, wrestling, cycling, judo teams; shout out Bucuresti derbies inside the city but especially the great one betwixt Steaua and Dinamo – real football rivalries, not no “lolol let’s take up 4 hours Saturday night ABC/ESPN but only actually play smashhead game for like 11 minutes tops”

#30: ZENIT ST PETERSBURG (100 pts): Hulk play for Zenit St Petersburg but Zenit St Petersburg fans ultra-racialist also ultra-homophobic, demand Hulk smash way out of pure Russia, not even winning help because winning not winning if not done in pure ways of white Russian

#31: AMERICA (99 pts): this is not America the America (which the real D Trump gonna make great again, you watch) but America the Mexico football team what which just won the North American version of the Champions League and also maintains stellar reputation amidst freestyle clusterfuck of Mexico soccer chaos structure; one time I don’t mind saying Go America!

#32: ENYIMBA (98 pts): Enyimba are one of the first Nigerian teams in recent memory to make it through to group stage of African Champions League (begins later this month – check your local obscure football streaming listings), which is proud moment but not really because even though football is by far number one sporting and leisure activity in Nigeria, everyone suffers from post-colonial self-loathing in this corporate globalization era, watching European football first, thinking of Nigerian premier teams as far from premier and not worth attention

#33: BORUSSIA DORTMUND (97 pts): when I started dorking to international footballs, BVB was making their Champions League run under crazy man Jurgen Klopp, and fan/supporter/ultra displays during that run were fairly amazing, and as crazy as Klopp appears sometimes (especially to genetically uptight English fucks), and it made me love the team; but also you have to wonder is nut like Klopp born from team like BVB or is team born from Klopp or both, and if both (which I say is the right answer) why don’t more clubs encourage such relationships because god, it’s what any sane fun-loving fan wants

#34: ZAMALEK (97 pts): one of Egypt’s big two, and as is the case with most Big Two eternal derbies, one is of the people and the other is of the oppressor class; Zamalek traditionally is of the oppressor (military) class, but with recent upheaval in Egypt, perhaps now is not you would think, yet somehow people remain crushed and power remains powerful, regardless of the era or empire

#35: KANO PILLARS (95 pts): one of best clubs in Nigeria, which is a colonially drawn geographic creation of a nation-state in Africa; the Pillars are premier team of Kano region, which historically was where Kano Kingdom existed before Fulani conquest and ultimately European exploitation of the African continent, which is ongoing through capitalist corporation colonization of all valuable resources, but done with local figureheads so as to seem all open and friendly and shit; Pillars have a dope crest – green and yellow crests remain top style, regardless of continent or era

#36: CORINTHIANS (95 pts): all I can think of is Ricardo Montalban; audiobooks of every poetr book I’ve ever self-published exist in deep space multiverse, all read by Ricardo Montalban, with Herve Villechaize working as hype man; not enough audiobooks utilize hypeman techniques, by the way

#37: PENAROL (94 pts): ahh, Uruguay – such a beautiful tiny nation which has football performed far above its population base; this has culminated in many things for the rest of the world to enjoy, and one of them is Penarol, who has the most aesthetically pleasing footballing crest on all the earth

#38: GALATASARAY (93 pts): when I was made aware of the insane joys of Turkish league soccer, I ever so briefly flirted with caring about Galatasaray, due to a Didier Drogba fetish at the time; but a little bit of internet video watching and I quickly realized that philosophically I stood more in-line with their rival Fenerbahce (which supports the people vs. oppressor theory of big soccer rivalries, although Besiktas, also in Istanbul, shows the fallacy of two-party system and how third parties are probably even more relevant to me personally); and yet, even with that change in heart, there can be no denying there is no scarier place for visiting teams or amazing thing to see (and a place I’d love to go in my real life at some point before dying) than a big, fiery WELCOME TO HELL beginning to a Galat home match; (you should probably just google “Welcome to Hell Galatasaray” if you don’t know about that shit)

#39: CRUSADERS (92 pts): Crusaders FC are top club from Northern Ireland, and that alone is a lot to handle on the heart level because when it comes to that United Kingdom divisive conflict between tribal Celts and empirical Anglicans, I stand with non-empirical peoples always, anywhere on earth; my shoot last name is Scottish and my paternal bloodlines are straight up Appalachian hillbillies who arrived by boat from Scotland nether regions, and in fact it is all these things that make me conceive of “sportsball 69” instead of “TEN TEAMS WHO STAND BEST CHANCE AT WINNING NEXT YEAR’S CHAMPIONS LEAGUE” because big data is empirical and thus Anglican and thus devilry, and even in metaphysical meandering list, I cannot endorse, not even tacitly, crusading devilry

#40: SANTOS LAGUNA (90 pts): neon green socks, in Mexico, equals unstoppable force; add in stereotypical visions of brown-skinned women in white cotton sundresses and psychic game over

#41: CSKA MOSCOW (90 pts): was literally the Soviet army’s team during Soviet Union of Russia and its subjugate states, so as you can imagine, not the most popular team in non-Russian places; now privately owned with minority ownership by Russian Ministry of Defence, thus still the military’s team, just privatized, in nefarious ways; also as you can imagine, draws some of the sport’s least open-minded fans in one of the earth’s least open-minded domestic leagues, but hey, it takes all kinds to make the world go round (including drunken racialists with highly questionable tattoos)

#42: MANCHESTER CITY (89 pts): I hate ManCity because they wear Tarheel Blue and represent that same godless ethos of purchased dominance; but then just as I had discovered a team to give my full psychic attention to in Swansea, who were powered by the simplistic grace of Wilfried Bony, he was bought up by ManCity; now this is normal for football, and in itself not an eternal slight, except Bony was leading goalscorer for EPL at that point, and was then situated firmly on ManCity bench as potential replacement for whatever might need replacing, essentially put on striker ice, having had 18 primetime months of his simplistically graceful life put on mute, all because of ManCity having too much money; but rest assured, the world economy will collapse, and modern corporate football will absolve itself into irrelevance (because there will be no profit)

#43: SEPAHAN (87 pts): Persepolis and Esteghlal, both based in Tehran, have traditionally been the two dominant powers in Iranian football; but in recent history, Sepahan has become new force, winning five titles since Persian Gulf Pro League’s current format was institutionalized in 2001 (more than anybody else) and collecting other hardware in cups and continental comps along the way as well; they are known (according to Wikipedia, which is probably sketchy source for anything) as Asia’s Yellow Storm, which I refuse to make any sort of joke about so as to avoid eventual Raven Mack Horrible Person thinkpieces once I become famous for my outsider arts of various methods (and I’ve probably given enough arsenal for such thinkpieces already, to be honest)

#44: ATLETICO MADRID (86 pts): actually was rooting for these godless fuckers this past weekend, just because they were playing the even further godlessly bastards from Real Madrid; and though the game ended in tragic “almost” as is destiny for teams like Atletico Madrid, I was able to instill in my 8-year-old child a strong understanding of why to hate Cristiano Ronaldo

#45: LA GALAXY (86 pts): the US home of Landon Donovan, as well as career twilight David Beckham, which should tell you all you should need to know about LA Galaxy; in fact that is a psychic litmus test, because if you think to yourself “well that’s great, London Ativan is great, and who doesn’t love David Beckham?” then you are definitely in the wrong place and you’ll never understand Sportsball 69 and you’ll also never understand 69 itself so I imagine you are strong purveyor of patriarchy and predatory behaviors and I hope my great-grandchildren stab your great-grandchildren with rusty holograms of knives

#46: VELEZ SARSFIELD (85 pts): Velez Sarsfield is last on this list today, and any time I see a short, overweight, latino dude walking alongside the road (about once a month it seems), I always assume in my brain his name is Velez Sarsfield, and he is almost always walking to K-Mart

TOMORROW: we wrap this thing up, like a lubricated condom

watermelon coconut kush 

hookah back patio deck 

at hipster teahouse bazaar

45s on 33 – #97: “Hit Me With Your Best Shot”

“You imagine you have some questions,” this orb spirit Ellabell said. “You may ask three, before the inspiration disappears.”

Without thinking I asked, “What do you mean ‘the inspiration’?” Other sprite girls were still frolicking in her backdrop, grass still glowing green like unseen aura (when positive charged), a buzzing blurring visual symphony of flips and bounces and somersaults and skip steps of solar gold shapes making blackish shadows as they moved.

“The Inspiration is when against all other needs as a person, against all other demands, a bright light of new being booms with your heartbeat. Some say it consumes them, but this is not correct, because originally it comes from them. One cannot consume themselves. The Inspiration beats with your heart, throughout your body, hoping for life. It then becomes dependent on all the distant parts of your body to help bring The Inspiration to life, or else it dies.”

Again, without thinking about the limitations she had established for our discourse, I asked, “What happens if The Inspiration dies?”

“The Inspiration is what we call it, but in actuality it is a multitude of inspirations that come from that same source, which is inside of each person. When The Inspiration rises up and courses through one’s body, if they do not help The Inspiration be born into existence, use their head and right and left arms and right and wrong legs to give it life, it dies. When it dies, that inspiration loses its fluid shape and congeals into a thick brackish sludge of frustration, which then travels back to the heart. And though the heart, of all animals, all plants, all things is a resilient core to all our various existences, too much sludge of frustration inspirations will start to clog the heart. If left untreated, meaning if The Inspiration is left ignored for too long, the heart can become too clogged, and ultimately kill the source of The Inspiration. At that point, any being is no longer being in any true and bright sense, in any way that carries the purpose of the creation of the universe. At that point, one is essentially dead, though they may continue being alive in a physical sense for many, many years.”

Ellabell’s words tapped at my own inner-depressions, and the green grass started to get a little more dull, a little more earthly. Some of the bouncing beautiful girls in the background started to skip off into the blur of the pines and poplars at the bottom of the field. And it was starting to look more like my actual field, taking the shape again of what was familiar. There were the blackberry bushes that had overgrown that I need to cut back, and the fallen oak that I need to buck up for firewood. The Heart Star’s foggy orb was dissipating.

This time I knew this was my third of three questions, so I thought for a moment, about what Ellabell had said, and didn’t let myself slip out the first question that came to mind.

“How does one bring The Inspiration to life if they are busy, if their days are full of other things they are supposed to do?” Ellabell smiled, and though she appeared to be youthful, it was the smile of a grandmother at a toddler’s unknowing question about the obvious.

“One doesn’t Do anything. In fact, doing is the opposite of bringing The Inspiration to life. You don’t Do your heartbeat, or you don’t Do your lungs into breathing air. In order to bring The Inspiration to life, you don’t Do Any Thing. The Doing you people Do has done too much as it is. To give The Inspiration life, you need to un-do more, and un-do as often as possible.” As she spoke she began to fade, like fog with the sunrise, except instead of brightness replacing overcast grey it was the opposite, with the duller realities of the real world reclaiming my sensory perception from the supernatural brightness of Ellabell and whatever the fuck her realm was.

I turned and walked back up the hill to the house, contemplating my undoing.

freestyle sonnet #048: SHAKESPEARE IS DEAD ALL HAIL RAVEN MACK

RAVEN MACK NEW KING OF THE SONNETS - FUCK SHAKESPEARE,
HE HAS BEEN PLAYED OUT LIKE ZODIAC SIGNS ON OLD
DIRT FOREVER! FREE VERSE IS WEAKNESS - AROUND HERE
THOUGH, THAT'S ALL YOU GET, CONSIDERED EPIC AND BOLD

TO PERFORM MASTURBATORY (NON-GENDER) ACTS
OF SPACE BAR ENTER BUTTON OVERUSE FINE ART
RUSE - BIG POETRY'S ACADEMIC TENURE TRACKS
(WHICH DON'T REALLY EXIST NO MORE)! FACTS: MY GREEN HEART

HAS FORM, FOLLOWS 12 SYLLABLE SEQUENCE SUPREME,
DERIVED FROM COUNTLESS YEARS FREESTYLING WITH MY CROWS
COMPOSING DIRTGOD FLOWS  UNRECOGNIZED BY C.R.E.A.M. -
CLASSIST RULERS EDUCATE ALL MINDS! DIRTGOD GROWS

ANCIENT MILDEW PRO-BIOTIC MAGNETIC MASS
OF FREESTYLE FORM POETICS SEEN AS SECOND CLASS!

internet reading list of late

(triplicates of links that occupied my mind at *work* recently)

Citizen Khan from the New Yorker

Oh man, this story here is amazing, and really drives home the true creation myth of America that could be real, except for whatever reason people won't let it. What if instead of a bunch of hipsters buying dilapidated parcels of Detroit, you just straight up relocated 15,000 Syrian refugees? What if instead of leaving it abandoned, the old historically black college or university in Southside Virginia (Saint Paul's) was turned into a boarding home/school for latino migrant children instead of sending them back? What amazing life stories could've been created, which would've only made this fucking place less sterile and hateful and narrow and fucked? (Also, this story really pushes my innate desire to operate a fucked up food cart/shitty restaurant into hyperdrive. It won't happen, because I'm already stretched beyond thin, but if only...)

13, Right Now from progaganda ass Washington Post

This story scared me because - despite the higher level of privilege (which is not to say we are not a privileged family, because I know we are - and I try to remind my children of this) - this reminds me a lot of my own 12-year-old. Technology has outpaced our ability to adapt, and we won't know the long-term effects of all this robot phone shit until, you know, it's been a long term. By then IT MIGHT BE TOO LATE!!! (lolol)

Bobby Shmurder: His Surreal Saga from Gentleman's Quarterly megazine

With the idiotic Troy Ave video making news, GQ jumped up to push this out about another NYC rapper who already went to jail. This story is sketchy as fuck though, and reminds me a lot of some "social media mapping" bullshit article I read a couple years back where NYC police busted a "gang" which it seemed highly probably were just a bunch of kids who lived around each other, and everybody's home was broken so they had not a whole lot of guidance. I think mainstream people (police, media, you know deep space white people organizational shit) underestimate how fractured a lot of communities are, and how it is natural human desire to try and piece together those fractures with a semblance of tribal belonging. Unfortunately, this is painted as "OH MY GOD! GANGS!" After reading this, I'm not sure what Bobby Shmurda did wrong other than be a teenager who got caught up in suddenly having money given to him in abundance.

SPORTSBALL 69: June 2016 Day One of the three

(the earth's eventual champion of sports ranking perfection)

I was sitting around dorking the fuck out with scientific heart, contemplating the vast organic yet anarchic organization that is the world’s football, and thunk how there should be a metaphysical pseudo-scientific list of the world’s most football teams. (I contemplating saying “best” but that conjures up our pre-conceptions of what it means to be successfully reknowned as the “best”.) I do a lot of fucking around both at work and in personal nonsense gibberish channeling with spreadsheets, and we certainly live in a mistaken golden age of data analytics. I just rode to the country store up the road to get a 2-liter of ginger ale, and on the NPR while I rode up there was a story about predictive policing and using algorithms to harass young black men in Chicago. The drunken neighbor young man was there, telling everybody “holla at me”, and he joked with the cashier lady in slurred mannerisms while I gawked at the bongs on the top shelf behind her, plus the fact they had dice for sale in three different color, quarter per die. The country store (and surrounding parking lot) is as generally bordline lawless as the urban corner store as in Chicago (or anywhere), but I doubt any predictive policing will ever reach out here, not until predictive policing is useless and two versions aged out of relevance to whatever tomorrow’s hot new fake science will be.

So this will be called the Sportsball 69, and it will be pseudo-science, or metaphysics, but real as fuck. It will be as real as country store parking lots, and tattoos of leprechauns smoking joints, and drunken happy men tearing down fences together to go stand on grass and celebrate a sporting victory they had no physical involvement in but actually own more so than the actual players involved. There is a methodology to this, but it’s fucked, and I rambled about the country store too much and am just gonna get into the list. I’ll probably explain more about the methodology tomorrow, or I might not. Who the fuck knows? But holla at me.

#47: UANL (85 pts): Mexican Tigres, from Nuevo Leon, who almost nearly became first Mexican club to win Copa Libertadores tournament last year, losing in grand finale two-legger to those bastards from Argentina River Plate; technically a college football team but never mentioned in American Lamestream Media

#48: SANFRECCE HIROSHIMA (85 pts): football born from nuclear ash pit, called Sanfrecce which I am too far into the back yard to consult the internet (my wi isn’t that fi) but it sounds like the type of pasta noodles you get at pretend fancy store in recently gentrified hood, getting you some sanfrecce rigata and goat cheese with some farm-to-table Funny White Devil Cider Stout pint growlers

#49: MONTERREY (84 pts): arch regional cultural hated rivals of the Tigres UANL team two slots above, and nothing is more chaotic and exciting and splintered into more mini-seasons and tournaments and strange “you might qualify for this tournament but also might qualify for that one” craziness than Mexican football

#50: TP MAZEMBE (83 pts): this kinda my chosen team from African continent because their nickname (Les Courvoisiers?) is frenchy for The Ravens, but their logo has an alligator holding a soccer ball (football) in its mouth, and they are from deep Congo DR, down in Lubumbashi, nasty ass mega-city sprawling out from open earth sore copper mine, almost like the earth itself spat the city out around the manmade hole

#51: MAMELODI SUNDOWNS (83 pts): one of first South African teams to be in African Champions League group stages (final 8) in last few years, so folks are hyped as fuck, because usually every year there are two or three South African teams who are like “WE ARE GOING TO SPEND MONEY TO WIN CHAMPIONS LEAGUE” but then they don’t do shit because South African soccer is not nearly as tight as one would expect

#52: GAMBA OSAKA (82 pts): don’t know much about Japanese soccer, but I know a couple creepy ass 40-something white dudes who post a lot of shit on social media about that weird ass school girl fantasy J-pop stuff, so watch out for those dudes, okay? I mean, internet trains us to be more tolerant especially of consenting perversions, but I don’t know, something seems hidden weird, below the surface about it, so if we all just promise to call people out on their bullshit if they step over the line, we’ll be okay; problem is, true creeps know to not ever step over the line until they slip up one day and you find out the dude you worked with killed runaways in Delmarva peninsula

#53: LIBERTAD (80 pts): Paraguayan team which is espanol for liberty, which might be obvious but also was what everybody in Scarface was chanting as they burned up Idomeni right before Scarface stabbed Joseph Mengele

#54: ETOILE DU SAHEL (78 pts): Etoile du Sahel are a top Tunisian team from Sahel region, where many wonderful internet sounds have been discovered; also their mascot based off Red Devils nickname is a long redhaired hillbilly looking dude like straight 1800s Scotland to east Kentucky ass dude with a trident, so imagining convert Sufi mystic Sahel hillbilly (Sahel-billy) building concubine commune in innate nomadic fashion seems pure metaphysical positive manifestation imagery, in my opinion (almost just went full “imo” there but decided against it to keep this bloggish even though I’ve obviously abandoned proper civilized punctuations)

#55: ASTANA (76 pts): there are like two good teams from Kazakhstan who end up in European tournaments because Kazakhstan is in that central asia steppe region which *might* be Asia but also *might* be Europe so they joined Europe, and fuck man no fucked up team from Kazakhstan stands a chance against the likes of the big clubs from the giant cultural epicenters of world history (big five leagues) but when they do trickle through the early rounds, they end up wanting to do shit like sacrifice a goat in Scotland (true story) and it causes a bubb rubb because indignant euro motherfuckers are like OH MY GOD HOW CAN THESE BACKWARDS PEOPLE ACTUALLY WANT TO SACRIFICE A GOAT? but real talk, goat meat is great as fuck, and also you don’t have to be cultured to know how to kick a ball into a giant net as good as way book smarter motherfuckers

#56: KAIZER CHIEFS (76 pts): South African team again, so the word “kaizer” in their name really trips me out, what with apartheid history and nazi references, but again I’m too far outside at the third tier picnic table to access interwebs; we have first level (by the house) picnic table, second level(far back of yard), and third level (invisible to unloungers), and obviously that’s where I’m sitting to compose Sportsball 69 knowledges

#57: FC SEOUL (76 pts): south korean football I imagine is played by robot cartoons in hyperspace, fc seoul created with dual meaning of “soul” because their robot cartoons gained artificial intelligence but then also artificial gut intuition which caused their artificial intelligence to expand further than other robot cartoon football teams, and that is why they are so successful; I imagine

#58: ZELJEZNICAR (74 pts): eternally fascinated by Bosnian clubs because of Muslim whitey status of Bosnia the nation, and Zeljeznicar is one of the bigger (or at least most successful) teams from the BIH; plus whenever something got all them “Z”s in it you can’t sleep on it, shit sounds tight as fuck, like how you gonna deny a bunch of Islamic bearded white ancient fuckers shouting ZELJEZNICAR! to the heavens, hoping to win some self-esteem back after the splintering of Yugoslavia, inshallah

#59: ZRINJI MOSTAR (74 pts): another major Bosnian club, but I already spoke upon that just now, and not as many “Z”s here

#60: POHANG STEELERS (74 pts): Pohang Steelers one of the all-time best South Korean clubs, and got their name from steel industry, just like American football Pittsburgh Steelers, but whereas Pittsburgh American football Steelers play in “Heinz Field” sponsored by ketchup corporation, Pohang Steelers play in THE POHANG STEEL YARD which really is unfuckwithable sounding stadium

#61: LYON (74 pts): not much to say about French clubs; like I ain’t anti-french or perpetuate anti-franco stereotypes, but I just ain’t all that interested, like I avoid the whole thing, but I doubt “Lyon” is French for “Lion” although it might be and even if it is it’s not like lions eat people in a city in France any more so who gives a fuck?

#62: AL-WAHDA (72 pts): a Syrian club, which is a good time to mention that guess what? even though countries like Syria and Iraq and Egypt have been wracked by social turmoil and civil wars and predator drone bombs galore, they have had football the entire time; Al-Wahda has remained steady success not only in Syrian top league but in Asian club tournaments, all while nation is total chaos; I think all the teams still playing the past two years have been in Damascus because that’s the only place they could secure security for games, but the games went on; in America if we have a serious incident, major sports would be shut down for weeks – if the country fell apart all that shit would go away without a fight, because it’s business not cultural (fuck business, culture first business second, which is why modern football is corporate devilry a lot of times and places)

#63: CRUZEIRO (72 pts): a Brazilian club that conjures up late ‘70s low rider magazine pinstriping sciences in my mind, because my mind is not all that controlled many moments

#64: DEFENSOR SPORTING (71 pts): Uruguay land of chill beauty and powerful Beautiful Game culture fully fermented; my ol’ lady was gonna pay for me to go to Uruguay this year and I was just gonna fuck around and go watch football as much as possible and walk around Montevideo and disappear into the coastal mountains and try to further develop my wildbird gringo mysticism with international flavorings, but instead we just paid a bunch of stupid electric and phone bills and bought gas to keep going back and forth to work until I am dead

#65: SAN LORENZO (71 pts): an Argentine club, but I have unfortunately run through personal quota of Argentine football talk for today already; I guess it bears mentioning the reason they are above Al-Ahli below them but below Defensor Sporting above them is the criteria for breaking ties in Sportsball 69 points system is my personal preference, thus ensuring this unparalleled internet sportsball list maintains my high level of integrity even with metaphysical pseudo-sciences applied

#66: AL-AHLI (71 pts): WARNING: THIS IS NOT THE MORE FAMOUS AL-AHLY FROM CAIRO BUT A LESSER FAMOUS BUT STILL QUALITY TEAM FROM SAUDI ARABIA WHOSE INTERNATIONAL FIFA CODE IS KSA FOR KINGDOM OF SAUDI ARABIA, YOU NEVER HEAR “KINGDOM OF SAUDI ARABIA” HERE THOUGH DO YOU? BEHOLD A PALE HORSE, WILLIAM B COOPER WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG, DON’T BELIEVE ALEX JONES HE IS A MISINFORMATION PLANT FOR THE GREY ALIENS

#67: RIVER PLATE (70 pts): most serious ass rivalry in South American sports is River Plate/Boca Juniors, which had a continental tournament game suspended last year because the fans maced all the players from the other team when they came out after halftime; no American college football rivalry, no matter how heated it is, comes close to motherfuckers getting maced by hooligan fans; uptight business-minded human beings would say “well that’s a good thing, we’re not animals” but I’d counter that wait we actually are animals, but some of us are assholes

#68: LDU QUITO (70 pts): one of top teams from Ecuador, who has been football shocker in international level as of late (well, World Cup 2018 qualifying) but this is likely because of Ecuador putting Rights of Nature into their constitution and believing politically in buen vivir aka the good living which is unsustainable by standard capitalist practices, which also doesn’t mean socialist because world is not made of only opposites; good living is the power of lounge, and main reason the world’s football has drawn my disgruntled gringo eyeballs (and heart) is because power of lounge is important to me and commercial bombardment is not the good life, but squeezing up next to a bunch of other loungers, standing room only (terrace life), seems more attuned to community than 129 euro official jerseys with a fucking commercial across the front bigger than the crest patch; just saying (plus LDU Quito crest looks like an army from Civilization patch, as all good football team crests look like – to me, fractured gringo brain of digital era)

#69: ATLETICO NACIONAL (69 pts): one of the humans I talk football with most in life is a crazy Colombiana barista lady at work around my age with insane chatter and salsa dancing predilection and golden dyed long hair, and she is from Medellin so this is her team, and she updates me and I know when they have big games because she will wear one of her seven thousand jerseys and also maybe her shoes or earrings that match, and I love her like an old friend even though we both hardly understand half of what the other one says, but the fact I decided to make a pseudo-science metaphysical list called Sportsball 69 and her team ended up in 69th place with 69 points, to me this was universal magnetic sign that I am doing this right as fuck

TOMORROW: NUMBERS 24 THROUGH 46 (aka The Middle Third)

my children raised in era 

of unending undeclared 

war in occupied places