I Need To Piss

Right. When the rapists of the rivers bathed in clear water, we should have paid attention. When the sons of the privileged were coveted by perceived salvation, we should have paid attention. When freedom was defined instead of theorized, we should have paid attention. When knowledge was quantified – we stopped paying attention.
I fail to see how silencing anything is freedom.
I loathe the homogenization of people.
I am constantly amazed at how I cannot understand concepts you have such a firm grasp on.
How are you? Is everything okay? I hope so. Some people get married. Some people get divorced. Some people destroy boundaries. Some people build walls. Strikes and gutters. Don’t sweat it.
What is your greatest fear? Mine is how few “decent is the highest form of patriotism” bumper stickers I have seen lately.
What is your greatest weakness? Mine is math.
What is your greatest strength? Mine is the ability to wade.
What was the last book you read? I just read a Daredevil comic that I enjoyed.
Where do you see yourself in five years? I see myself dead.
What separates you from everyone else? My ability to leave.
Some of us met in 2004. I was leaving or maybe I had left graduate school. Some of us met before, and I told you about my blog. Some of us have met in the consequent years following the inception of my blog and you have maybe left, or disregarded or grown sick or not understood.
Some of you like certain things. Some of you like everything. Some of you worry. Some of you spit praise like my ears grow wax. Some of you say nothing.
Some of me writes. Some of me wrongs. Some of me is a product of my environment. Some of me is all DNA. Some of me lusts. Some of me is satisfied.
Some of you support the old boss. Some see something different in the new boss. Some of us care. Some of us don’t. Some of us believe. Some of us have faith.
None of us know. None of us have been there. None of us are what we ought.
You will never get it.
I will never understand.

Lights Will Be Shining

Right. I forgot how much I miss being heartbroken. It is nice. It is quiet. It is how I imagine it is to live in a house after your parents died in it. Things still get done. You still do things. You function and clean and you aren’t sure how. The Gods must not realize this is starting to feel like home. It is no longer punishment, it is simply life. I will never make my way to that island. I don’t speak the language. I am not wanted there it seems.
I like ribs. I could eat ribs like 48 times a day forever.
I know this kid, he will always be okay. If I were to guess, he just may live forever.
There is this other kid. I don’t know him. But I hope he is square - as in the good way not the lame way.
There is yet another kid whom I will likely never meet, and I am fairly certain he will be dead soon.
I wish my keyboard had a .com button. That would make shit easier.
I assume someone read it and I think it is fair to assume it isn’t very good. It is God’s will.
I fell once about six years ago. Maybe longer. Maybe shorter. I couldn’t tell you. I fell and when I fell, I hit my head. So timelines are fuzzy. But the point is, is that I haven’t fallen since because I learned to walk drunk. That is a skill they should teach in school.
Space aliens freak me out.
One day I might tell someone the truth. But by then it will be a lie.