Category Archives: Uncategorized

mud is bond (a poem by Jack)

I am not bonded by word but by choice…
Don’t need symbols because my flesh communicates everything on my behalf..

Child of the stars… My genetics run deep… We never worshipped the sun but saw it since it’s infancy and encouraged it’s growth with jubilation…

We mourned the moon, but now nature grieves for us…

Mud born we reigned….

Jacob fooled Essau… But that was supposedly just a warning.. Only an allegory… But I see my siblings giving away birthrights as though they have no idea what a birthright is…

It’s death or liberty.. But death is liberty… So why trade freedom for comfort.. Why trade freedom for convenience.. What is freedom in reality, when reality is nothing more than Jacob’s lie…

Fucc Jacob and his words… Do not be bounded by them.. But know each choice reverberates for infinity… Bound by choice we are…
Your flesh was never coincidence…
The mud runs deeper than the blood could ever….

Learning to feed my hunger

Interesting article involving the long going relationship between man and food.. Original a relationship of necessity has become so much more.. Good has made it’s way to becoming a driving force in modern culture.. No longer simply an act of survival, it has become so much more.. An entity in and of itself.. A controller of men..

An Honest Mom

I will never let another pair of pants tell me I’m fat again.

This from the mouth of my friend Rachael, as she speared another piece of perfectly roasted cauliflower off of the plate in front of us. We met for drinks, Rachael and I, and as the fathers of our children readied our kids for bed, we ordered another cocktail.

I eyed that tiny plate of cauliflower with resentment. It was so good. And there was so little. What a tease tapas can be.

R’s declaration convinced me of what I already knew—I must go buy new jeans.

IMG_4217 Familiar, anyone?

Oh, the ever changing expanse of the post partum body. I’ve been rail thin with huge boobs to very squishy and everything in between. The rail-thinness was the product of exhaustion, depression, and breastfeeding in my first four months with Jo. I remember being stunned by the sight of…

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Dialectics – Man’s Metaphysical Problem

Food for thought..

Jay's Analysis

Post-human deception based on ancient lies. Post-human deception based on ancient lies.

By: Jay

A philosophical thought for the day: One of the central, most basic and ancient questions of philosophy is that of the one and the many. In my undergraduate days, I spent a lot of time focused on this question, and to some profit. This question even transcended cultural barriers and mysteriously appeared in both ancient Chinese and Hindu thought, which cannot be said of every philosophical speculation. A familiar issue to philosophers and mathematicians, it is surprisingly an obscure topic, now that philosophy has died in the West. Does the end of philosophy in the West signal an end of this question? I don’t believe it does. In fact, the problem for man in our age is still this perennial question and it is one of dialectics.

The question is perennial because the one and manyare fundamental to man. We possess…

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We Don’t Need No Thought Control

Interesting article… It brings up the downside of becoming “too big”. My theory: anytime an organization or group becomes too big it can no longer sustain itself in a healthy manner.. It ultimate implodes. Our educational system and American culture is but the latest example. You lose the purpose and initial drive of the organization and it slowly becomes about the bottom line and s numbers game. When the passion leaves everything goes to shit. This is my personal philosophy as to why all major empires eventually crumble…
Is this but a microcosm of America’s eventual fate?

A Buick in the Land of Lexus

we-dont-need-no-thought-contro

Our kids are in CRISIS.

I work with teenagers in an affluent suburban area.

They don’t comprehend what they read. They use calculators to multiply 10 x 10. The average high school junior has no clue what the word “diligent” means.

They write essays resembling those of a 5th grader. About how Albert Einstein discovered electricity.

In tests administered in reading, science and math to 15 year-olds globally, we are behind TWENTY NINE countries in math. And our kids’ performance in reading and science is  not much better. And yet, American investment in education is unrivaled, globally.

Are you scared yet?

We lead the world in the consumption of illegal recreational drugs. And one of the chief sales outlets?

Our SCHOOLS.

Our teenage suicide rate is the highest in the world.

EVERY DAY there are over 5,400 suicide attempts by kids in grades 7 – 12.

NOW are you scared?

The two places teenagers…

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Fairytales Of Slavery: Societal Distinctions, Technoshamanism, and Nonhuman Personhood

Dope article, very insightful, and a worthwhile read that is rich with in jewels..

afutureworththinkingabout

“How long have you been lost down here?
How did you come to lose your way?
When did you realize
That you’d never be free?”
–Miranda Sex Garden, “A Fairytale About Slavery”

One of the things I’ve been thinking about, lately, is the politicization of certain spaces within philosophy of mind, sociology, magic, and popular culture, specifically science fiction/fantasy. CHAPPiE comes out on Friday in the US, and Avengers: Age of Ultron in May, and while both of these films promise to be relatively unique explorations of the age-old story of what happens when humans create machine minds, I still find myself hoping for something a little… different. A little over a year ago, i made the declaration that the term to watch for the next little while thereafter was “Afrofuturism,” the reclaimed name for the anti-colonial current of science fiction and pop media as created by…

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Poet and Beast

Dope poem…the imagery is bananas!

mywordpool

It’s not about dropping words like stones down wells,
Listening to the clanks and clunks ricochet off the walls
As you hover near the edge, pleased with your senseless noise-making.

It’s about dropping yourself down the well.
It’s about human skin against stone –
That warm slap that wakens the blood
And can be heard for miles.

It’s about getting inside, you know?
Crawling into the English language
Like a wounded animal and
Curling up beside its pounding heart.

That’s the music.
The steady thump, thump of it going on
In its endless monologue.
You sync your words with the swelling of its lungs
And hope they sound like keys of an accordion
Breathing in dust and bellowing out clouds.

The beast at the bottom of the well
Has never bared its teeth at me.
At night I bury myself in its fur and
We move as one – a…

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Bipolar as Unexpected Gift

I found this a dope read… Vaguely touches on topics I’ve spoken about in my own blog… A testament that being a Deviant is never bad… It’s simply a misunderstood truth and a gift few can handle… And none have been taught to handle..

danseur ignoble

I’ll begin, here, with a caveat: bipolar disorder is hard, makes life harder, and really sucks a lot of the time ? but sometimes that makes the ways in which it’s a gift all the more startling and meaningful (at least, it does for me).

As such, take all of this with however many grains of salt your own experience requires at this time. Just because I feel like I’ve discovered a secret bonus doesn’t mean that’s everyone’s experience, or that everyone needs to feel the same way. To borrow an aphorism from the kink community, “Your Bipolar Is Not My Bipolar, And That’s Okay.”

~~~~

It has become somewhat de rigeur to talk about bipolar disorder as, perhaps appropriately, both a curse and a blessing.

With it come harrowing depressions and dizzying (sometimes terrifying) manias, instability that can wreck careers and lives, a powerful predisposition to addiction, the very…

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This Is The Last TIme I Get High

Found this to be a dope read and articulated very well.. Reminds me of an elongated poem… Or a dream sequence… Goin from scene to scene not so much knowing where one starts and the other begins… Not so much knowing why you’re dreaming at all…

A Buick in the Land of Lexus

heroin 2

I snapped a picture of my surroundings and sent it to him, so somebody would know where I was.

“Pretty,” he said. “Where is that?”

“Downtown Newark.”

Downtown Newark, New Jersey is anything but pretty, but nighttime hides a multitude of sins.

“Are you going to score?”

“Yes” I  texted.

“Don’t be a dumbass” he responded.

“If you don’t hear from me in an hour-there’s a problem.”

An hour later, I was laying in front of a magical Christmas fireplace with the whole family I never had.

The most magnificent church bells rang in my soul.

My brain was massaged by Kafka and Burroughs,

as I bathed in the warm golden sunshine of a perfect life.

I squinted at my cell phone at 7:45 the next morning. My cell phone alarm had been beeping for 45 minutes.

7:45? Fuck. I usually am up at 6:30. Get my kid up at 7.

My heart…

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