Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Uncategorized Writings

New Year’s Resolutions

One of my New Year’s resolutions is to think more for myself. I have a habit of googling every question that enters my mind from “What should I do right now?” to “What is the meaning of life?” and no matter what I google the answer is always- eat more vegetables. Oh and drink more water, sleep more, meditate, take a bath, stay at home, some gentle yoga, drink tea, wrap yourself in a soft blanket, dim the lights, a gentle self massage & let your last thought be of gratitude as you slowly sink into that final sleep. This is the wisdom of our time. To indulge the self into a state of non-existence.

So I would like to throw out a few alternate New Year’s resolutions because becoming a vegetable isn’t for everyone. Some of these may be morally questionable but I also think it is morally questionable to devote your life to becoming an amoeba.

  1. Become rich. An oldie but goodie which builds the wits and nerves. Will lead to more growth than chamomile tea.
  2. Become popular. Also a classic. Exciting, challenging & guaranteed to expand your world. Unlike yoga.
  3. Party more. This could have its down sides but life is not all about seeking states of calm. Sometimes you gotta bubble and flow like lava.
  4. Live in the woods. If you want solitude then earn it. Don’t sit in your government apartment smoking weed. Build yourself a damn house in the woods. Triple credit if a woman does this.
  5. Social climb. An advanced version of becoming more popular. Use strategy to become ensconced in social circles that would typically reject you. Then blog about it.
  6. Be a whore. Not professionally, just have sex with lots of people. This is probably a bad idea though. Please don’t try this unless you know what you’re doing. Sex is linked to the underworld in ways no one can understand. And demons cannot easily be returned to their jars.
  7. Do drugs. This is also a bad idea. Just say no. The worst part of drugs is they can make you too passive and that is exactly what we are trying to avoid. Say no.
  8. Walk across your state. Guaranteed to be more interesting than keeping a gratitude journal.
  9. Take a second spouse. This could cause trouble but would be less boring than keeping a gratitude journal together.
  10. Live in a third world country. Make sure it is really third world though cause otherwise living abroad will probably just turn you into a pretentious ass. Try Chad.

Okay these aren’t the greatest ideas. But the point is you can think of a more stimulating goal than drinking lemon water each morning. Life does not have to be about dying. Languidity is anathema to spirit, a wet pillow held over his face as he struggles for breath until finally the flame goes out.

Life do we remember thee
Tho you loved us we killed you with chamomile tea.

So don’t resolve to murder your spirit this year. No journals, no naps, no child’s pose, no government injections easing you into the world beyond. This year feed the part of yourself that wants to live!

As for me though, my resolutions are not that exciting as I am still working my way out of the special needs category. They are

  1. To practice thinking for myself when I have life challenges rather than googling for answers.
  2. To make more friends in the physical world. This is a lower tiered resolution than becoming popular (mid-tier) or social climbing (top-tier) but that’s just where I’m at. I don’t even know if I’ll like having friends yet. Plus it forces me to address many areas of practiweakness, like money, transportation, technology, clothes etc.

If you have made resolutions, please share them!

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Uncategorized Writings

A Christmas Plea

The music industry has perverted the relationship between musicians and people with ears. Either the musician is a star and you must approach them as a grovelling fan or they are an ‘aspiring’ musician to whom you should drop a few coins as an act of charity. Both scenarios are false and repulsive.

I’ve known tragic cases where musicians died of loneliness despite having plenty of ‘fans’ because all these fans assumed the musician must be swimming in a sea of adulation & wouldn’t want to be bothered by them. Meanwhile the musician was actually living in isolation and abject poverty until they went insane and offed themselves. Unless a musician is super famous, odds are you have more money and friends than they do. So why be a fan when you could be a friend instead?

I know some people don’t want to know the people behind the songs because they feel it would ruin the songs for them. And yeah it probably would but isn’t that what life is about? Popping fantasy bubbles and replacing them with realities which you eventually decide are even tastier?

There are probably many men who would enjoy sex more if it could just be about the hole and they never had to meet the person behind the hole. But we train them to meet the person anyway because otherwise the thrill of the hole fades and they end up empty and bitter. In some cases they are even shot to death then hung upside down in the town square to be jeered at by their neighbors.* So just because it is simpler to see songs as divorced from their creators does not ultimately make it the way to go. If music is bread, musicians are the bread’s crust. Learning to eat your crust is a big part of life.

In fact I think the ultimate model for funding music would be an informal patronage system where music is free but those who like it fund the artist in some way big or small. But this can’t happen until musicians and listeners first become friends because I doubt many humans want to patronize a stranger or a star who is hovering above them.

It repulses me when artists are raising funds and say things like “If you donate 50 dollars you get to have lunch with me.” That is like paying for sex. Most humans aren’t into it. We don’t want to lunch with someone who considers it an honor for us to lunch with them. Once we reach maturity we don’t want to be no one’s fan no more.

So the first step in considering how musicians can earn a living is really to take money off the table altogether & heal the corrupted relationship between artist & listener. Place them on the same level and connect them.

And drop the “Support Local Artists” nonsense as well. Barf. It makes musicians sound like pathetic beggars with no inherent value who must be kept on life support out of the goodness of our hearts. If you don’t like a musician, please don’t support them. Would you take someone on a date because you felt sorry for them? It is cruel because it bonds them to someone who secretly finds them worthless. Set these losers free to find people who actually love them or else to find a new profession altogether. But prolong not their suffering through false friendom.

ON THE OTHER HAND…. if you believe the musicians you know suck, consider if this is really true or if you have actually become a brain dead zombie through watching too much American Idol. Did you know that if you use a vibrator on a regular basis you stop being able to enjoy sex? The same principle applies to music, food and everything really. When we become used to unnaturally stimulating products free of roughage that provide quick dopamine fixes we lose our taste for things which are more complex, fibrous & wholesome. Perhaps when you hear a local musician they miss chords, sing off key or use clunky lyrics. THE HORROR!!! But really, why does it matter?

Music is not a talent show. It’s about what touches the heart and something rough and awkward is as likely to do so as an overblown symphonic barf bag. Forget taste & critics & Shakespeare. It is just humans expressing feeling. Put yourself on the same level as the music and try to open up to it. Don’t hover above it like a disembodied brain trying to decide if it is worthy of you. Humble yourself and see if you get something from it. If you do, hit on the musician afterwards. Or at least say hi.

Cause one cool thing about being friends with a musician is that your spirit will certainly work its way into their music. Every song I’ve written was inspired by at least one person I know, although in some songs multiple souls overlap. I never tell the people cause this would seem super fucking creepy. Sometimes I don’t even realize who the song is for until later. It isn’t an intentional process, just an unavoidable organic reality. Pieces of other people enter your heart and come out as sounds.

So please. A Christmas Plea. Consider that music could be something other than an impersonal commodity to be purchased from our overlords. It is a living spirit and by befriending the musicians you become a part of it.

And in this way you shall enter the realm of the Immortals and through Paradise forever and ever shall your soul fly free.

The End.

* This is a reference to famous man ho Mussolini, not the figment of a sick imagination.

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Sky Blue, Ether, Flags, and Fairies Videos

Love (Video)

Sunset comes at half past 8
The sun drops through the garden gate
The glory then a darker shade of blue.

See your eyes at least I think
They sparkle like a darker drink
A sink into a world I never knew.

But somehow then when I approach
So careful as to not encroach
Just touch you with the lightest touch of glove.

Still I want to feel you there
Surround me like the darkest air
And fill me up with your breath like a glue.

Is this Love? What is Love?
I never knew.

See you standing there you smoke
A pervert in his evening cloak
A bather in a silver wave of time.

Sun goes down we watch it fall
Together pressed against a wall
Then run my finger down your nose’s line.

Somehow in the evening dusk
From far away it comes to us
The purple silk that grips us like a glove.

Look into your eyes and see
A presence looking back at me
I want to drink from your lips til I’m blue.

Is this Love? What is Love?
I never knew.

40 eyes around us see
The air it swirls in ecstasy
To switch directions now it’s switching back.

Watch string from your pocket fall
To climb its way back up the wall
Enticing you to follow in its track.

Grip your hand- no please don’t go
Cause everyone I ever know
They leave me there just clinging to a glove.

Smell your neck but I can see
Your eyes have drifted off of me
Into the sky to spy the bedded moon.

Is this Love? What is Love?
I never knew.

Categories
Blue, Black, Silver, Water, Moons, Death & Ghosts Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Purple, Magic & Sorcerers Sky Blue, Ether, Flags, and Fairies Uncategorized

Love

Sunset comes at half past 8
The sun drops through the garden gate
The glory then a darker shade of blue.

See your eyes at least I think
They sparkle like a darker drink
A sink into a world I never knew.

But somehow then when I approach
So careful as to not encroach
Just touch you with the lightest touch of glove.

Still I want to feel you there
Surround me like the darkest air
And fill me up with your breath like a glue.

Is this Love? What is Love?
I never knew.

See you standing there you smoke
A pervert in his evening cloak
A bather in a silver wave of time.

Sun goes down we watch it fall
Together pressed against a wall
Then run my finger down your nose’s line.

Somehow in the evening dusk
From far away it comes to us
The purple silk that grips us like a glove.

Look into your eyes and see
A presence looking back at me
I want to drink from your lips til I’m blue.

Is this Love? What is Love?
I never knew.

40 eyes around us see
The air it swirls in ecstasy
To switch directions now it’s switching back.

Watch string from your pocket fall
To climb its way back up the wall
Enticing you to follow in its track.

Grip your hand- no please don’t go
Cause everyone I ever know
They leave me there just clinging to a glove.

Smell your neck but I can see
Your eyes have drifted off of me
Into the sky to spy the bedded moon.

Is this Love? What is Love?
I never knew.

This song was partially inspired by this shirt which made me feel so calm and controlled….. an evening librarian who quietly hums while filing books alone.

But as you can see from the background, the feeling of control was only a dream. And one washing shrank the sleeves to halfway up my arms, transferring me from library to insane asylum.
Categories
Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story Uncategorized Writings

For Whom Empowermint Tolls

I wrote this a few weeks back but only now got the nerve to publish it. Cause it references neighbors & I’m not sure if it’s cool to blog about neighbors or not.

I’ve been feeling kind of bummed, like I reached the end of empowermint. There may be no way of getting more powerful than I already am. My last empowermint was smoking illegal drugs. It blew my mind I was able to achieve this and now it kind of feels like I’ve peaked. What more can I do? Rob a bank? Dallas? These things require cars and I still don’t have one.

I also sang a couple songs on stage without dying of a heart attack. It wasn’t as scary as I thought it’d be. Felt like floating, like I wasn’t there at all. Still counts as a mint though.

I’ve now been to bars three times. They are scary but exciting. People do drugs. I received a pot gummy bear. But this was after I’d completed my illegal drugs empowermint, so I didn’t eat him. Instead he was flayed and quartered. I fed the meat to a friend each time he got angry in the hopes it would calm him.

At the bar a guy told me he was hard and asked what color panties I was wearing. I asked if I could see his jockstrap. Then he starts shouting how much he loves sucking cock. Then he smashes a bottle over a man’s head. They start punching and blood is dripping down their faces. One of them has black X’s painted on his cheeks. It felt like being in a dark wonderland. Nothing like the world I am used to.

Everyone in the bar was larger than life. Some wore diamonds despite being men. One had just escaped max security for murder. One said he would fuck me over a fireplace. One had only three fingers on his hand. One wore an earring of a butt and said he likes doing everyone up the butt regardless of gender. One had just gotten stabbed. If I could be certain of not getting murdered it would be quite exciting.

But I’ve been so cloistered I don’t totally get where excitement ends and danger begins. A friend told me I was on my way to getting my organs removed. So I tried returning to pre-empowermint days. But that isn’t safe either. Once I believed that being a good housekeeper would ensure my safety in life. Now I know that sooner or later God throws everyone out on the streets. So you gotta be ready.

And then you get addicted to the thrill. I kind of want to see more of this crazy world. How many men are out there with X’s on their face? How many want to see my underwear?* What is PCP? What signals do drug addicts use to find dealers? What sweet words and caresses will organ dealers use to win the trust of healthy people? Can you be fucked over a working fireplace? If a man offers to let you watch him jerk off is it yes or no? I want to know everything.

But those lesbians. They keep reminding me I’m courting disaster and I know they’re right. What I really need is to join a ladies book club and I promise I will. Ladies help you become smarter and more organized. They encourage you to make crafts and sell them at a fair. Around men you grow clear and gelatinous. You wait to see what they’ll do next. You try not to set them off. Men are a feast for the imagination yet a practibrain disaster. And we all know exciting choices rarely pay off in the end.

So I’m trying to be good. Today I had the opportunity to do something fun but instead stayed home and ate 12 slices of cheesecake. Cause that is what Mr Rogers would do. Virtue today is happiness tomorrow. Thrills lead to chills. Aids. And death.

*FYI- I realize nobody wants to see my underwear. Men only feign sexual interest as a way of getting your money or something much worse.

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Red, Soldiers, & Fire Videos

Pain (Video)

First bring the needle out
Tighten up the tourniquet
And now you feel the waters flow
And now the whole world grows so wet

And now how blood is beautiful
Liquid ruby through your veins and
I will love you fire to fire
Desire. You make me feel pain.

Falling back again
With your eyes an inch a way
And somehow turn from day to night
Then somehow turn from night to day

And now you light your pipe again
And now you speak your words they’re never true
You feel the room spin round and round
Theres only me and you and now

How red is beautiful
Liquid ruby through my veins
And I, I feel the world dissolve resolve
You make me feel pain.

First bring the needle out
Slide it through my eye oh I oh I
How I could live for this
So high above the world I fly I fly

I’ll love you fire to fire
And I will love you flame to flame
And I oh will I marry you, I do
You make me feel pain.

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia men Music & Songs Red, Soldiers, & Fire

Pain

First bring the needle out
Tighten up the tourniquet
And now you feel the waters flow
And now the whole world grows so wet

And now how blood is beautiful
Liquid ruby through your veins and
I will love you fire to fire
Desire. You make me feel pain.

Falling back again
With your eyes an inch a way
And somehow turn from day to night
Then somehow turn from night to day

And now you light your pipe again
And now you speak your words they’re never true
You feel the room spin round and round
Theres only me and you and now

How red is beautiful
Liquid ruby through my veins
And I, I feel the world dissolve resolve
You make me feel pain.

First bring the needle out
Slide it through my eye oh I oh I
How I could live for this
So high above the world I fly I fly

I’ll love you fire to fire
And I will love you flame to flame
And I oh will I marry you, I do
You make me feel pain.

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia men Music & Songs Red, Soldiers, & Fire

Paradise*

Man come into a bar
Get bourbon in his ice
You know this man
They call him Paradise

Wiggle sway and dance this way
Slam the whole thing down
Pick me up
Then swing it round and round

Pipes, stars
Spin in falling arms
Eyes, seas
Ooyah ooyah look what could be

You never know which way you’re heading
Til you reach the end
But when you play the devil’s game
You won’t win.

Man come into a bar
And rest his body down
You know this man
You seen him round and round

Soft circles in his eyes
They swirling up again
Yeah fill me up my friend
Don’t you let it win

Smiles, eyes
Black and shiny skies
I see
Ooyah ooyah what it could be

You never know which way you’re heading
Til you reach the end.
But when you play the devil’s game
You won’t win.

Sparks fly
Fill me up inside
I see
Ooyah ooyah what it could be

You never know which way you’re heading
Til you reach the end
But when you play the devil’s game
You won’t win.

* I have another song named Paradise too. Is that okay? Actually Paradise is one of my favorite words & I am thinking I might write a bunch more songs with this name if it doesn’t present practical problems….

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia Music & Songs Uncategorized Yellow, Gold, Kings, Fathers, and the Sun

A Ring

Golden robes sing and flow
Crowds pour in enjoy the show
Two hands reach out for everything

Sing and dance, sometimes touch
Sparkling to want something so much
Swirling round and faster to a ring

Feathers fall upon your shoulder
I can see you ten years older
Golden eyes reflectng everything

Sudden shake awake and cry
Oh please don’t let this moment die!
I just wanna hold on everything
Fold it up and fasten to a ring.

Standing there six feet off
So official as I watch you talk
Cold eyes that take in everything

Serious, never touch
Beautiful to hold inside so much
Swirling down and backwards to a ring

Feathers fall upon your shoulder
I can see you ten years older
Saddened eyes reflecting everything

Roughened up, almost wise
Stone like against their cries
You have made your way into the ring.

Leaning there against the wall
Smoking over six feet tall.
Two eyes that notice everything

Quizzical, back and forth
Biting hard and then moving into mirth
You don’t know you’re standing in a ring.

Feathers fall upon your shoulder
To the world of ten years older
Blackened eyes absorbing everything

Shaken up awake and cry
Oh please don’t let this moment die!
I just want to hold on everything.
Fold it up and pack it to a ring.

Categories
Charleston, West Virginia My Life Story Uncategorized

The Black Checker

Fuck me. Normally I’m somewhat average in terms of efficiency. Under crisis in August I rose up to become a top 10 performer. Mid September my balloon began deflating and now my life consists of staring at a mug until I finally get up and walk into a wall. Technically I still get a bit done but am nowhere near recommended levels of crispness for my weight range.

Is this a normal response to someone’s mind being overloaded by things they don’t want to think about? An early sign of AIDS? Right now I need to be calling the prosecutor’s office, visiting the courthouse, wrapping packages and taking them to the post office, doing some secretary work for a famous herbalist, cleaning the house since the front door is made of glass, stopping my plants from dying, cooking dinner so the meat doesn’t go bad, playing with the dogs to keep them from sliding into depression, plus I really need to buy a coat and some pants since the temperature keeps dropping and I gotta get these things and more done by six when the sun goes down.

Cause then I have my night time stuff to do.

But rather than performing the tasks essential to survival (in the end we all die anyway, right?) maybe I’ll just sit here drinking coffee and tell you how my empowermints are going.

The most important thing is that I completed my illegal drug empowermint. This was sort of the jewel in my empowermint crown to the extent that I kinda of feel I’ve peaked and have nowhere to go but down. Maybe that’s why I’ve been tailspinning. My whole life I’ve wondered how people obtain illegal drugs when there is no clear road to obtaining them. You can’t buy them in a store, you can’t ask people if they sell them, so how is everyone is high? Well it turns out the answer is friends.

I’d decided that friends were the next realm of empowermint anyway. You can know how to dig ditches and start a campfire but without any friends you gotta hard hoe to row. And I literally knew no one of flesh and blood. Now I know a few.

And I really, really want to write about them. But I don’t know if that’s rude. I’ve always avoided being friends with writers for this exact reason. Just like I’ve avoided being friends with musicians because they have no morals. And tall people because their heads are too far away from earth. And dark haired people because they are wusses. Thin people are harsh and intolerant. Fat people just chuckle when you want to talk about something serious. People with large heads are obsessed with conspiracies. Small heads look weird. Long necks lack commitment. Short neck means tiny brain. Men can be dangerous or break your heart. Women might assume you’re a lesbian and you end up having to eat their pussy just to be polite. There’s a reason to avoid everyone.

I almost feel I’ve gotten too many ideas about life stuck in my head and now I need to clear a few out. Men who eat pasta are gay. Men who avoid pasta are gayer. Drugs are bad because they’re illegal. Hot dogs are bad cause I once found a short thick hair in one. Bars are bad because ghosts live in them and they can get stuck in your hair then follow you home. Honey mustard dressing is bad cause if you eat it you’ll attract men who like to be done up the ass. Red attracts violence. Purple insanity. Black death. White can make you so spiritual that you attract dark sluts who give you aids. Orange can make you attract fun loving sluts who also give you aids. Gold will turn you into a man. Silver softens your brain. The world is full of things to be avoided.

More than ever I feel like a black checker all alone on a checker board. My player has decided he’ll use me to make his next move. He doesn’t have many checkers left. But whichever direction he moves me in I’m gonna get jumped. Maybe this is why I keep walking into walls.