This Place
I threw down the manual and kicked over my chair
one more set of numbers might murder my will to live
ain’t got another damned day to give
this place
this place
never had any grace
every second measured, each move under evaluation
human life reduced to numbers to the left of zero
ain’t got another damned hour to give
this place
this place
never had any grace
each morning takes a little corner of my mind
listening to contradictory and meaningless instruction
ain’t got another damned minute to give
this place
this place
never had any grace
if I don’t break free and surrender from this place
even the idea of me might dry up and blow away
might not have another damned second to live
this place
this place
never had any grace
(screams)
I’m out of here!
Category Archives: Personal
Blessed Be The Fruit
Blessed Be The Fruit
People are discussing the complexity of the human capacity for collective evil. Whether one section of the population likes to acknowledge it or not, Germany’s example constantly pops up.
How can so many people stand by and watch the country descend into madness?
The best way to visualize this capacity is to watch the movie The Stanford Experiment. If you’re even slightly interested in the psychology of collective misbehavior, this is the easiest shortcut to benchmark how things go astray so deeply, even with intelligent and otherwise kind people.
The same effect applies to police, the military, or even people making decisions in business.
Anyone who’s never experienced the environment of a production line might not understand it. Each employee is present to earn a living and mostly do a good job. Those who own the production line want to profit while providing a living for those who work there. An interesting thing often happens, especially in poultry and similar industries.
The need for profit puts those in charge of the environment, the efficiency, and the speed of the production line often blurs the line of humanity by increasing the demands on those working it. It becomes hard to perform the job safely over time. People suffer the indignity of sometimes being able to exit the line long enough to take care of their basic bodily needs. For some, it becomes easier to dehumanize those who perform the jobs in order to be profitable and efficient.
The above can’t be explained to someone who hasn’t experienced it.
The same effect applies throughout our society. We justify less than a living wage, even though we know these jobs are necessary and that our collective decision to fail to pay sufficiently to live even a basic life is causing misery. All of this is based on economic concerns rather than the primary focus of human happiness and dignity. It is a them problem rather than an us problem.
We don’t provide universal health insurance, even though doing so would cost less than our current system. But this does not stop us from passively watching as millions of people suffer from a lack of health care or go bankrupt.
We put on our hats of authority and often forget the results of callousness. It’s our job, we think. Society apparently wants it to be that way, or we would have intervened to change it. We make decisions without consideration for how they impact people, or we are put in a position to be powerless to change things.
We marginalize certain groups. Over time, this gives us a silent yet undeniable tendency to view others as lesser. This justifies our collective behavior that often results in denigration or harm to the people in those groups.
My upbringing gave me an unholy understanding of the possibility of violence inside people. Even the pious in my family found ways to justify turning a blind eye toward what can only be called evil. Family who could observe a child being hurt and find ways in their minds, especially based on the societal norms around them, to fail to act to protect them, were they evil? Or were they just the product of their environment? Several of them held dear their holy books – and did not react well when I grew up and became confrontational about the disparity between their alleged message of love and kindness. That message had justified their deliberate choice to do nothing.
People in history are no different from us, even if we want to think they were. This gives us a pass and carte blanche to continue to behave inhumanely, even if we are technically just doing our job or fulfilling our role as citizens.
Love, X
Lost

It is the office itself that yields the honor and respect, rather than the person temporarily assuming its duties.
The expectation of someone behaving in a presidential manner is one that’s been shattered. For some, this is a welcome change. For others, it’s a chaotic and devastating reality.
We have demonstratively proven that anyone can become president.
Growing up most of us were superficially exposed to the civil war. Almost all we learned was of dates and places and broad themes. We did not then viscerally understand how a nation could become so irreparably shattered.
We go about our lives because that’s what we can do.
Regardless of your political affiliation, those of us paying attention now unfortunately feel it in our bones. Whether you’re excited about the upheaval recently brought to Washington or you’re onvinced that our government is in jeopardy, I don’t think people will generally deny that this is something much different.
We are united on paper much in the same way that Jefferson’s hollow words about all men being equal applied only to white wealthy men.
The intelligent people I trust are saying the same thing. Countries who were once allies are unilaterally warning one another and the world. People have shouted that the sky is falling and cried wolf before. It feels different this time because it is.
This isn’t Clinton refusing to resign even though he should have. Or Bush demonstrating incompetence.
I will be surprised if the end of February has not brought us to cataclysm.
People need stability, as does the economy, and society in general.
The struggle through the generations to create a reality in which all people, regardless of belief, religion, skin color, or their sexual identity could coexist in peace now resembles a dystopian fantasy.
Power and progress are both unstable. The problem with authority and authoritarianism is that they both fall into chaos.
Chaos is inevitable. Entropy governs the universe.
Those who currently seek to redefine America will learn the lesson.
X
Pranks
“Every book is a mystery novel if you tear out the last 15 pages before reading it.”
My dad loved doing this to people. Imagine reading 245 pages only to discover that the last chapter is gone. Mom wanted to murder him more than once. Uncle Buck laughed about it after the fact. Mr. Dunivan, dad’s boss and cousin by marriage? He was the perfect victim for Dad. I don’t remember all the details, but Dad put a dirty magazine right on the dashboard of Mr. Dunivan’s car more than once. Or on his office desk. Mr. Dunivan’s mom initially had a conniption fit about it, but after discovering that Dad pulled the prank, she laughed like she was dying. Due to that prank, I realized you could LEAVE any magazine or book you wanted in a doctor’s office, friend’s house, etc. This realization made for some inexpensive fun for me as I got older.
Years ago, I used to keep my mom supplied with books, music, and movies. Even though I did it by accident, the final few minutes of the film Seven were missing from the end of one of the VCR tapes I’d sent her. Initially, she was convinced I did it on purpose – and pissed. Given its “head in the box” gut-wrenching ending, it was quite the coincidence that Seven was the particular movie in question. I re-taped it and sent it to her. It was a joy to mess with her sometimes. Putting the craziest random movies on tapes, inserting a death metal song into a collection of class country songs, or adding screams at maximum volume when she least expected it.
When MP3s became popular, it was easier than ever to prank people with wild, unexpected audio files in the middle of their gifted CDs. One of my victims rolled into the Silver Dollar City parking lot, blaring one of my mix CDs. I had inserted the Cheech Marin dialogue from “From Dusk ’til Dawn.” (The one where he is selling something I can’t mention here.)
I sometimes reminisce about pranks that I witnessed. I hated so much about my Dad, but I loved the fact that he could audaciously pull off some of the most outrageous pranks, ones that you couldn’t be certain might result in a heart attack, mandatory anger management enrollment, or (hopefully) small explosions.
One way I know I’m not my usual self is that I lose interest in spontaneous shenanigans. It’s a tell-tale sign for me.
The prank is on us, though.
You got up this morning, assuming you’d pass through the day to its completion.
To know the ending of these cold hours in front of us.
It’s not true, though.
Some of us have our final pages ripped out. We just don’t know it yet.
Love, X
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PS The picture is one of my parents after they remarried. Dad died nine months after they remarried. Shockingly, Mom was not the cause of his demise.
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To Be An Ass

If you need proof that sometimes I’m an ass..
I waited patiently at the counter of the inconvenience store. Not only is it perennially short staffed, but it was shortly after the expected shift change. I waited two to three minutes for the clerk to do her thing.
A woman came in behind me. I could hear her stamping her foot and muttering under her breath. “Geez, take your time buddy.” That’s not all she said. But you get the idea.
I turned politely and said,”I apologize for the wait. It’s shift change.” I smiled and nodded. The look on her face could best be described as a hybrid between spoiled milk and what a fart would look like if it took human form.
She rolled her eyes and ignored me.
To my delight, it took the clerk another two minutes to finish. The clerk exchanged a commiserating glance with me at the other customer’s behavior. The staccato click of the woman’s feet tapping the floor sounded like a drummer who took too much ephedrine.
I’m fairly quick on the draw. But giving me even a minute to plot my verbal revenge?
When I was done, I thanked the clerk and told her it was no imposition at all for her to have taken a bit to get her day started.
The woman behind me flung her items on the counter as if she had been attacked by wild bees.
“Hey, Karen, I hope you have the day you deserve,” I told her as she briefly made eye contact.
I heard the gears grind in her head as she attempted to understand exactly how I had had insulted her.
The clerk burst out laughing before she could stop herself.
Because I was already in an altered mood, I bowed slightly and made my exit.
I hope Karen does have the day she deserves.
X
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Valid
40% of the world’s global military spending is from the United States. I’ll let these musical legends recap. It’s from a sit-down decades ago.
I’m as liberal as they come. Using every other modern nations metrics, it’s financially obvious that our level of military spending is not reasonable. I of course reject unilaterally the accusation that questioning the disproportionate spending for military efforts is unpatriotic.
For all the gnashing of teeth and pain that the current administration is causing regular people, it’s obvious you focus on the 40% of the budget and not the 1%.
Of what purpose is a defense against the world if the people within the country aren’t the priority
X
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Holy Snarl
It is strange for me to write about the reactionary shock some believers experience in the face of this emergent and vitriolic version of belief. I wrote this song from the perspective of someone I trust to have a grasp of what religion is supposed to do to their lives. The song wails into the octaves instead of screaming, followed by a descent into acceptance, as they are surrounded by people who’ve twisted the message into something unrecognizable.
…
“Angry Snarl”
though they can’t spell the word sanctimonious
you smell it from a mile away
uninformed but seemingly never silent
they poison our world with certainty
you can’t reason with people like this
their ears are closed with heavenly glue
they have just one book to ban all the others
and it never means the same thing twice
they never hesitate to offer a judgmental opinion
as if we haven’t watched them go astray
they speak of god with angry lips
where mercy lies in a forgotten ditch
(chorus)
you can’t reason with people like this
yet you persist in measured reason
knowing it’s all in vain
they have the only answer to give
and that’s their only refrain
they speak of god with angry lips
wondering why we don’t feel safe
an afterlife of condemnation
is no way to live
Love, X
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If Or Why (Original Songs)
I don’t expect people to take the time to listen or absorb the message. Whether other people think so or not, some of the lyrics are insightful. The female voice version seemed to have an unpleasant tone, even though it resonated with me, and I worked diligently until I achieved that sound.
I don’t create things with the exclusive motive of it being liked. If I had that fear, I would do what most people would and fail to summon magical words from the air.
I have three versions of this song.
Here are the lyrics:
the January sun shone on your hair
your shirt clung to you like a glove
I held my breath for a fleeting moment
as I watched you walk toward me
I knew your mind was elsewhere
I waited for our eyes to meet
A smile, a glance, flickering enthusiasm
The reciprocal charm of being waited for
I couldn’t do what came to mind
I couldn’t say the things in my heart
I swallowed down the hungry tingle
and instead urgently looked away
When you feel like you’ve been hungry
The difficulty lies in thinking straight
You don’t buy a house just for the kitchen
But try living there without one
The gradual wither of my affection
Leaves me a little shredded and uncertain
I can’t find the words to explain the color blue
When you don’t see the things that I see as true
Beauty truly lies in the eye of the beholder
its value diminishes when someone grows colder
Confidence and esteem have their place
Yet it’s a tango, a duet, and a mutual dance
One person’s truth is another’s lie
It’s easy to forget that it takes two
Both being nurtured, seen, and felt
One person’s truth is another’s lie
And I can’t find the words to tell you why
I crave a life filled with overflowing
Freely shared and effortlessly showing
Dancing alone just isn’t the same
It moves your feet yet traps the pain
if art is food for the soul
of what use are eyes if not to see
of what use are arms
if not to hold and behold
One person’s truth is another’s lie
No one should be left wondering if or why
….
The original version…
The second version, more of a rock feel…
An alternate rock version…
Love, X
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Dickson


Dickson Street is a ghost town early in the morning, after all the night zombies make their exodus. I love the experience of seeing and hearing things when the world is silent. It’s a little warmer this morning but the wind puffs and reminds me that it’s still cold. The crescent moon hangs in the southern sky.
At one point in my walk, the thunder of distant sirens wailed for a bit. It was a strained metaphor for the wild and uncertain world spanning out around me. Beauty and horror are constant companions.
We’re all visitors here, no matter where we call home. Just because we have decades to call a place our home, it doesn’t conceal or deny the fact that impermanency is our master. Yet we keep arguing and fighting, as if our efforts are more than personally significant milestones.
I can’t walk around deserted towns without being introspective. It feels like there’s an elusive revelation just around the corner each time I do it.
X
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Immigration
Francisco looked at me before he ran. Had he not, the immigration officials never would have looked twice. He came back to work later under another name. When he came to the United States, he worked hard. He rode a bicycle everywhere. I learned a lot of culture and language from Francisco.
After he ran, I went to the back docks were immigration officials were zip-tying people I knew in a refrigerated trailer. I had left my identification in my locker and diligently tried to be detained with the rest of my coworkers. I demanded in Spanish that the people I knew be moved out of the cold trailer. I refused to identify myself or provide identification. While I was not eloquent, I had to remind immigration that these were people being needlessly scared and put in discomfort for no reason.
I watched some of the agents half-heartedly perform their duties. They knew that the problem wasn’t the immigrants. It was the system and companies that relied on their labor. There were also agents who relished doing their jobs.
Later, I looked out at the back acres adjacent to Bethel Heights. At the work smocks hanging from the fence, left there by human beings fleeing.
It’s impossible to describe the people who didn’t experience it. Or to those who don’t speak the language and understand the need and drive to have a better life.
What a f mess.
I forget these experiences until I am required to remember. Every person rounded up or diminished by political grandstanding is still a person. And needed by the demands of our economy.
I did countless interviews and I-9 forms. The law required me to take a cursory look at identification prior to employment. If their identification was rectangular, it was good enough for me. Because anyone who wanted a job could have one. We constantly had unlimited positions available.
As immigrants become targeted, you can of course nod or applaud. But in so doing, you’re ignoring the bigger problem of economic necessity. Removing workers is a harsh solution that does not address the shadow economy or why we need so many additional workers.
Each time I see raids, I see Francisco. He was a hard-working man brought here by the fact that countless companies need workers. I think of that look of desperation on his face as he stood there zip-tied, knowing he faced a trip to Brownsville.
The raids were pointless. One man came to work with his suitcase. Instead of fleeing from immigration, he came to work ready for a free trip back to Mexico. He understood the economic reality that a job would be waiting for him when he came back across the border. And that it would likely always be this way.
Raids don’t address the problem.
They amplify it.
Companies who need labor anywhere they can get it will continue to do so.
Even if only 10% of undocumented immigrants disappear, it will have a devastating impact to our economy. Even if you’re unconcerned about the fact that these are people just like us, you probably won’t consider it to be an issue until prices rise and the reality of your choices results in discomfort for you.
We are not a nation of laws. We’re a nation of economics. Current events consistently prove this to be true.
Que desgracia.
X
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