B is for Stealing

I die a thousand times a day. not from cowardice but rather, projection. I think if the concept of an alternate reality or rather multiple realities exist, then I am in fact a dead man; I have fallen off cliffs and veered off stairs; elevators have crashed with me in it; I beat up villains and die; I died of colds and viruses; the pain in my head mutated; etcetera. My personal “favorite” is this recurring thought of having a blackbird fly right into my temple lobe. Herby making my distrust of these birds even more pronounced. My latest death happened while I was en route to the office. The taxi I was in was situated behind a prison van. A little girl needed to cross the road and maneuvered her way between my retard of a taxi-driver and said prison van. Almost instantly the following scene played out: the van [which obviously wasn’t closed properly] burst open, criminals escape, threaten to hold the little child hostage, I jump out of my taxi and convince them to take me instead. I do

When I wake up, I’m going to either be very grumpy or very relieved I would’ve either come to a conclusion or discovered a beginning When I wake up…. When I…. When. When will I wake up? This dream is surreal. This dream they say IS REAL. And I am to believe it. Believe that this color combination This disquiet within the nations This topsy turvy, twisty and twirly screwed up Ness… Is exactly what life is. I must’ve taken something strong. Strong enough to knock me out into a perpetual haze This unconsciousness The conscious unconsciousness of sleep Because my mind IS AT WORK Hustling Hurtling Through thoughts and logics and pains and strategies and formulae and reason And pain. My mind IS AWAKE Paneling through images, formulating problems Solving those problems And creating more More of the same My mind IS awake But my body isn’t Or else it is In this dream that every body else THINKS IS REALITY. I tell you… When I wake up, I’m going to either be very grumpy or very relieved I wou

when i wrote this... i can't remember where i was when i wrote this. or much of the state of mind that i was in to be honest. but when i saw the short film "Alice Yard: A Work in Progress" i realised that while the thought was written for St. Clair, perhaps what i was really referring to was Alice Yard. maybe that's over reaching, but when i say "there's a safety in st. clair..." it's Alice Yard.  Alice is a Sanctuary. It is a sacred ground. And Alice IS like Athens to me. I've seen thinkers come there to share their minds in a way that takes me back to that ideal. Athens.  whatever Alice is, like the film says, she is definitely a work in progress. i'm glad to know she exists. so i raise my mountain dew and say - HERE'S TO YOU ST. CLAIR for being what you are. and HERE'S TO YOU ALICE YARD for being who you are! the film itself was created by darryn boodan and mariel brown and features some super groovy people. and dave. dave w

a letter to a friend... You know there are days where you hate the skin you’re in. or rather, the body. when I think skin I think color and let’s face it, women like the dark color because it always implies big penis. How could you go wrong with that? but “body” is a totally different beast to me. Like now… at this moment, I hate the body that I’m in because it is attached to certain emotions that are not my idea of a fun time. Mom and I got into an argument some time back and she spoke about showing off. And to be honest I was most offended because I… do not show off. I do not see how wanting the best for one’s family [at any cost- pun included] could be showing off. But tonight I found out what it really is that I have against me. I hate people. I have a distinct fear of people and that fear causes me to [possibly] show off. It’s been this way since I was little. Every time I walk past a group of people and they look at me; every time I come across people who may be otherwise de

i stared at the credit union statement.  i stared at it hard. i eventually stared past it and into space as i considered picking up the phone and calling them to withdraw money.  my money. ha ha. i would get it. that's not a problem. the problem was the [perceived] embarrassment that i would feel to have to call and let people know my business. ... he says as he puts it on the blog. ... [sigh] the heaviness i look at the credit union statement. i know this has little to do with the union and much to do with my hangups about things. hangups. these pesky prickly monkeys that dance on your shoulder blade or maybe your collar bone hangups... makes me wonder the validity of my actions.  like... like when she wanted to come over. she wanted to hang out and then... come over. and because of certain hangups, we never did. almost lost her that night. not that it mattered in hindsight since i lost her anyways or... whatever. hangups - we confuse them with morals or [my personal favorite]

Big business cares about false profits And when the seers say invest in wisdom They don’t hear them Busy, busy In the trafficking of human souls More coin, less sense The price of “being blessed” Big business has no religion But they’re pretty deep in their spirituality Oh Dollar Almighty Hear my cry Hear my lie Hear my deception Lead us not into incarceration And a bag of men say Amen to them. Big business was a spirit man Then the fortune Sang a different tune And the spirit of man wrestled hard with god Exchanging white robes for pin striped frauds And the smile on their face grew so-sterile And the tears that they shed grew croc-odile And they toil against us But we envy them Cause what you can’t beat You better join in. Remind me again, what’s the going rate? I need to buy in, before it’s too late. Depreciate the masses Now fill your glasses With some choice whisky! Let’s all get tipsy Lesawlgehtipshy… On the backs of the serfs On the back of the serfs Jesus loves the precious