Headlines are murder to my eyes. Today’s reading allowed me to learn than the top 1% of the country now controls 40% of the America’s wealth — the highest percentage since 1927. These people send peasants in RVs to Burning Man ahead of them to establish elaborate camps they can parachute into, wearing the standard […]
The Falls Apart, or a Case for Hope Read More »
These are generally those who have achieved in a realm undefined by material rewards, who interact with culture in its birth canal, their material sacrifice for vision-preservation a mark of bravery without the badge.
Generation Immobilization Read More »
You’re done for. There’s one thing, then another, and there’s nothing after that. What does that mean? A cleverly concealed pocket-knife could wiggle me away from a railroad tie-down, and suddenly my sour mid-life expiration could alter to paper-skin ancient, eyes pearled and body bent to occupy chairs that wheel and rock. Or maybe future-me
Mad Rambler This uniform feels familiar. Unmonkeyed thanks to mittens, swaddling clothes for anxious digits twisting accusations. Thumb-tacked. Shoes shower-capped. Paper ribbons tied loose to yarn-spooled hair flat-ironed with heated horseshoe. Downright LUCKY. No: unglued and unshoed. Everyone knows the only horse has feathers. Fruit-juice in washpans from the bed of every foot at the
Career Day (Plotting of Future) Read More »
2:36AM Two crows on the fence, waiting. They tell me: Listen. I do. Listen harder. Am I dreaming? No. Perfect. Listen. Fine. Triple-lock the door. I peak through the blinds. Two crows on the fence. Still waiting. Caw. Do humans turn crow as purgatory, trapped observing the living with their kind-of-a-funny-stories and toddlers tied to
Two Crows, 2:36AM (1) Read More »
Sitting in my own lap, thumbing through messages dispensed from self ankle-deep in almost-sleep. Dreamy awake state summons her most dignified 1940s radio baritone and announces: Present. What about the present? Hakim Bey and Robert Anton Wilson and Carl Jung and Frederik Van Eeden and a thousand philosophers and dreamers and writers and dead white
Drinking Games of the Future Part 4 – Present Tense Read More »
Just like sci-fi authors thought cars would fly but mimeograph machines would crank out purple tinted sheets of paper forever, our predictions of maybe-tomorrow are likely wrong. Envision the world noticeably not ending in 2012: hundreds of thousands of saluting citizens standing holding hands on the edge of a cliff, eyes closed and breath held,
Drinking Games of the Future 3 – 2013 Read More »
In the future we’ll name our children for colors and other things we used to know before everything greyed to ash. We’ll throw invisible spears at visible gods asking why nothing was done to stop the burning of sea turtles back when all our gods were idols and our cars were filled with gods. In
Drinking Games of the Future Part 2: This is Not Awake Read More »
The one guarantee of me post-apocalypse is that my logic-brain will abort, leaving behind a slope shouldered droop-mouthed mumble to paw through clouds of I-told-you-so. A full 90-degree antenna adjustment will be required to pick up my frequency, the same oh shit sputtered at the start of our universe. My in-the-now mind is a teaming
drinking games of the future (part 1) Read More »
