Why Aren’t Cites Burning…

 So what the fuck is it going to take before society collectively says, “This shit has to stop and we are going to burning this country to the ground to root out the pedo fucks that are ruining our country for their lust and greed?”

We have proof the our President is a pedophile. A credible accusations and emails claiming that he’s also a murderer. A child trafficker. A traitor to the United States and an agent for the enemies of our country. A carven con man, thief, embezzler of children’s charities, and on, and on, and on, and fucking on!

Has our society become so conditioned to such horrors that we are afraid to take Action? Have we been so conditioned to worry about no one other than ourselves that’s others are invisible to our eyes? 

In my mind, every single property with HIS name on it should be burning to the fucking ground right now. Every off course. Every sneeze bag motel. Every office, restaurant, every fucking things everywhere, should be burning out of control.

And not just his. The members of his team. His family members. His business partners. And every other billionaire that has ever met the scum bag and not fought to bring him down because they have allowed he and his, to exist unquestioned. 

Everyone with even a credible accusation against them should be burning right fucking now! 

It’s Time To Pay Up…

 

This may be the time for all of us to realize that the American Dream is Dead. In reality, it was never alive. Everything we have been told, been taught, been promised by our leaders, from the beginning, was a lie. We have never been anything more than slaves, rebranded as employees. As consumers with a price on our heads. And when the system has drained us of everything it can take from us, we are discarded and forgotten about. Left to die without dignity or grace, stripped of all humanity.

To be an American, comes with a subscription fee, and it’s steep.

You want a roof over your head: Property isn’t free anymore. It’s all owned by someone and they need to make a profit so, Pay up!

You want water to drink, clean, cook: Water issn’t free anymore, someone owns it and they need to make a profit so, Pay up!

You want electricity for lites, heating, cooling, cooking, charging: Watts aren’t free, someone owns it all  and they need to make a profit so, Pay up!

You want to drive, you need a car: Pay up! You need gas and maintenance: Pay up! You want safe roads to travel: Pay up! You need a license for yourself and your car: Pay up! The Dealers, the shops, The Dept of Transportation all need a profit so, Pay up!

PLussss, we need insurance to cover everything: So Pay up, every fucking month until you die.

We neeedd jobs to do all the Paying up, but the government needs our money to take care of us all, so they take our money from us before we gat a chance to Pay up. So we Pay up twice or more.

Well fuck that, We’ll just move out to some open space and build our own home and live off the land.

NOPE!

Every square inch of this god forsaken country is owned by a handful of families. Those rich fuckwads make the rules for the rest of us. It’s now against the law to live off the live off grid unless you live in a Van Down By The River. But even then, don’t get caught.

We live in a pay to stay society. We were born here against our will and ever since we have been paying up, just to survive.

And Now, we all have to worry because white women can get shot in face while smiling and saying, ”I’m not mad bro.”

Fuck the lies we’ve been told. Fuck the centuries of extortion and exploitation. Fuck the Handful Of inbred families that have caused all of this for the last 300 years. 

THERE ARE MORE OF US THAN THERE IS OF THEM. TIME TO TAKE BACK WHAT WE HAVE ALL BEEN PROMISED. TO TAKE BACK EVERYTHING THAT’S BEEN EXTORTED FROM US.

TIME TO TARE DOWN THE SYTEM THAT WAS BUILT TO EXPLOIT US. TIME TO REBUILD A SYSTEM BUILT FOR ALL OF US. 

                                      TIME TO MAKE THE FUCKING RICH PAY UP!

Toxic Masculinity…

 When It comes to male anger, I understand. I spent much of my youth angry. At the world. At anyone that questioned me, or asked me for anything. It was always just under the surface. Ready to jump out and attack anyone within ear shot. 

I would raise my voice, throw things (golf clubs were my favorite item to launch), even punch a wall or two. I’m not proud of that behavior, however it did teach me much about myself. About my family, my childhood. I was raised to be a racist. To fear and dislike anyone that was different. Everyone I knew told off color bigoted jokes. The occasional N-word from the grand parents. I didn’t know any different.

There were only a handful of non-white people where I grew up, and most of them were Native Americans but they stuck mostly to the reservations. 

I never cared for the jokes or the derogatory language, but I never spoke up. I never pushed back at any of it. I would stand up for women because even though I was raised wrong, I was also raised to be a gentleman. At least toward women, which still seems odd to me. I never realized that all of the jokes were backed in hate, because i never saw the hate. When raised in this environment the jokes don’t sound like hate. Everyone laughs afterwords. 

At 19 I left home and moved across the country. My world exploded. I was surrounded by people that were not like myself. I soon realized that, these people probably don’t think those jokes and stereotypes were funny. I never repeated one again. It dawned on me that I was not raised right , and that everyone was basically the same. We’re all just trying to get by in this mess of a world. We all just want a better life for ourselves and our family and friends. 

The Summers Of My Discontent…

At long last I may have finally come to the source of my discontent.

Every memory I have of my childhood, is centered around me having to defend myself. Good, bad or otherwise, every memory I can conjure, the situations are of conflict, competition, or defensive. 

There was support, encouragement, but with a price. Always be the best. Be a leader not a follower. If you start something you finish, no matter what. No excuses, no failures, and threats of physical violence toward me for questioning any of it.

At the age of 11, my father showing me how a defensive lineman can get past an offensive lineman, by throwing me fae first into the turf. A fat and bloody lip, a bloody nose followed by a few tears, was met with, “ would you Ike me to give you something to cry about?”.

When I was 16 years old, at the evening dinner table. I was told that if I wanted to look like a fag that was my choice. In response to a newly pierced ear. 

I listened to years of stories, regaling the poor choices made by my father and uncles and grandfather, all with laughter and fondness as if being arrested and thrown in jail were just boys being boys. Then told to do as they say, not as they do. And then they’d laugh as they remembered the past glories.

So when I started getting into trouble, I assumed it would be met with the same nonchalant chuckles. And they were. And every time there was no real consequence, my need for attention of any kind made me escalate my behavior. Fortunately for me I was never caught doing some of the truly terrifying and horrible things I did. 

Thank the black baby jesus that i escaped. 

I left home at the first chance that presented itself. I relearned everything I was ever taught. How to act, how to treat people, what to believe in, who to believe in and everything I currently know and believe.

As it turns out, everything I hold dear is in complete opposition to my entire family. I’m the only one that ever left home. Coincidence? Probably not.

After a recent visit with my family, parents, sister, Aunt, my son thanked me for breaking the cycle.

I could not have been prouder of my Mr. Man. He’s no longer an innocent bystander, he is an Allie.

And suddenly all of my pain and angst, didn’t seem so painful. It may have been what needed to happen for my son to live a better life.

Defending The Undefendable…

 

Ok. So, I’m not from around here. I’m really hoping that someone might explain to me, how you defend a pedophile? Just to be clear, that’s someone(an ADULT) that is sexually attracted to CHILDREN.

What do they have to do for you, that you can over look child rape? Is it that none of the children are yours? Or you don’t have children of your own, so why would you care? Is your life so detached from what you see on a screen that you can compartmentalize a pedophile into normality? It’s just on the screen. It’s just the internet, social media? 

How many times were you dropped on your head as a child? Did someone hurt you and you’ve been holding on to it? So now you want to hurt others?

My brain, can not even imagine, a scenario that would find me defending a pedo. Not, if my very life depended on it.

Now, remember, I’m not from around here. Where I come from, Pedos are the lowest form of life. When they end up in jail or prison, the other inmates END them. Do you know why? Because inmates have children, and even inmates hate pedos. There is nothing, worse. At least where I come from. 

Explain it to slow, with small words. Like I’M FUCKING STUPID! Because I don’t, I can’t, understand.

What the actual fuck…?

 I remember, early on in high school, thinking to myself and my journal, that we are screwed. Ronald Reagan had just introduced his Trickle Down Theory. I knew then that this was a grift in order to steal our (the middle class and the poor’s) money and give it to the filthy rich scum that support politicians. The real rulers of the “free” world.   

But I lived in a red state. I didn’t know that at the time. Honestly I didn’t really pay much attention to the world. It seemed so large and far away from my life that it wouldn’t ever matter to me. I quickly learned the error of my ways. What happens in the US has a profound impact on the entire world.

Fast forward 50ish years.  Everything I was ever taught was a White Washed Lie. All of it. It was all a lie in order to rewrite white history and erase the horrors and atrocities perpetuated by white colonizers.   To erase the fact that white people  stole land form natives. Instead of learning something from them and working together, they murdered, raped, pillaged and plundered. Taking everything in their path, never once thinking about the consequences of their greed.

 I digress…

Now, Politicians are still trying and succeeding at stealing our money, our health care, our social security our Medicare; basically everything they can get their greedy fucking fingers on, they are going to steal, and there is nothing we can do about it. So FUCK us!

And then, somehow(people are retards) they convinced most all of us,  it’s the brown and black people that are keeping us poor. Not the handful of folks that live on mountains of money. 

Right? Isn’t that the way of Emerca. Power and excess for the rich - While the rest of the 98% struggle to survive. Literally, struggle. It’s 2025 people, and we are still taking the scraps with an “Oh thank you, this is too much for us unworthy peasants.”  So we let them take more.

Now we have the National Guard and military personnel in our streets, racially profiling everyone that isn’t white. No Due Process, No Serving the public’s best interests, mo mercy. Attaching US citizens, all while making bounties on our heads.

What. The. Actual. FUCK is going on?

Cruelty is the reason and the purpose, and the goal. Cruelty, against everyone that isn’t white.

I recently started looking into some of my families history. (quick side bar: I was unknowingly, raised to be a racist) What I found is that my family has only been in the US since 1887. That’s it. Now my family has conveniently forgotten that fact. My great grand parents were from Czechoslovakia. My great grand mother was still alive when I was born. She died in 1970.

Now much of my family are trump people. I am NOT! It breaks my heart to see them continue to vote against their own best interest, when I know that they are not mean or evil, but, merely mislead by the very people they trust to look out for their best interests. However, they believe all of the propaganda. It breaks my heart.   

My own family, that were raised by immigrants, now want other immigrants to be deported.  To be denied the very rights that they all enjoy. 

My therapist and I are happy to report that I have broken that cycle of misled anger and abuse. I can see the world and people for what they are. I left home as soon as I was able,  and I grew. I learned. I traveled and observed  others. And everywhere I have ever been,  I realized that we are all the same. We all have the same want’s and desires. A better life. 

Simple.

A few of us want more from life. More from humanity. Not just the same status quo. We’re better than that and you should be too. It’s not hard to be a better person. It takes energy to hate.

 FREE UKRAINE      FREE PALESTINE     FREE AMERICA 

                                                                         FUCK TRUMP 

                                                                ANTIFA TO THE DEATH

Pain...

 It’s been more than 35 years now. In all that time there has not been a single day that I have been pain free. Not a single day.

People love to ask how you are. How you’re feeling How are you doing. The answer is always the same, Great. Never better. You cant just tell someone that you feel like hell. That practically every inch of you hurts. There is no comfortable position to stand, or sit, or move, without being in pain.

Part of the problem is that I don’t look like I should be in pain. I don’t always act like I would be in pain. I laugh. I crack jokes. I go to work. I try to suffer in silence. I have no visible injuries, wounds, or alignments, I tell doctors that I hurt and they automatically assume I’m after drugs. I have had every joint in my body X-rayed, scanned, MRIed, CT mylogramed, photographed, monitored, measured, probed a prodded. 

I have also spent years in physical therapy, psychological therapy, acupuncture, massage, aroma, pharmaceutical therapy. I have yet to find a Doctor that can diagnose what ails me aside from arthritis, and severe wear and tear from enjoying and surviving my teens and twenties.

On the standard pain scale, 0-10, 

a normal, average day for me is between a 6-8. That’s on the edge of moderate, and into the severe pain range. Everyday of my life.

Capitalism and Time, the theft of human souls!

 Where does six years go? In the blink of an eye, she’s gone. I can still see myself, sitting down with my new iPad, this iPad, and writing down the first chapter of Life on The Line. The story of my time in the restaurant industry.

It’s been six years. Six, years. 

Loosing the last 18 months has been easy. Being disabled has a way of sending your life into “Groundhog Day”. 547 days ago my disability started; all but about 20 of those days have been pretty much the same day. Everyday spent in pain. Over, and over, and over…..

If not for my dogs, I would be locked in a padded facility on a farm somewhere. Talking to the voices in my mind. 

Is internal screaming a bad thing? How much screaming is normal, either internal or external? My screaming never stops. Ever. No matter what I’m doing , I can hear it. At times, it’s so loud I can’t hear people I’m talking with. At others it is like a soft buzzing. An ear worm 🐛.

The other four years? Gone. Some photos, good memories, and bad. Gone. Time spent toiling for the profit of others. Wasted. 

What are you toiling for? For whom? Is it worth your short time on this rock? 🪨 

Life On The Line...

Chapter one

I jumped into cooking on a bit of a whim. With little to no hesitation. After spending many years in the art business I was looking/needing to change my life. 

It started with a class in 1998. A gift, to sit in with a local chef and watch them prepare something amazing. Then you get to taste the somethings and take home all the recipes. 

Then I learned that I could volunteer to assist the chefs. I could take the class, work along side the chefs and it was free. A win win. 

After volunteering  several times, I asked one of the chefs what it would take to become a cook. She invited me to visit her restaurant to see what I thought.

The next day I showed up excited to see the action of a real kitchen. After a few hours of me trying to stay out the way, in a very tiny space, she said, "I would ask you what you thought but you haven't stopped smiling the entire time." I hadn't. I loved it.

It looked like it would be a great deal of fun. Playing with food and getting paid. How naive.

She offered me a job. I started the next night, training on the saute station, I took to it right away, and stayed for almost 4 years.

I got lucky. She was an excellent chef on the verge of a great career. It was her first restaurant so she spent a lot of time in the kitchen. But she was a hot head. She screamed and yelled at us. Occasionally throwing things at us. Like plates of food. God help us if one of her plate wasn't what she wanted. It should be 13 inches tall and it's only 12, you had better duck. She would not hesitate to throw a full plate back at us through the window if she wasn't pleased. She was horrible, but brilliant.

Through it all I learned a great deal. It fed a passion I feel toward food. It's an art, it's creative, it's sensual. It's also very hot, horrible hours, low wages, no security or benefits, and very stressful.  Serious cuts and burns are part the daily joys.  The pressure can be over whelming. It's a running joke in every kitchen that it takes a special kind of crazy to survive in the restaurant industry. It's funny because it's true.

Kitchens are a counter culture that most never see and even fewer understand. Cooks or BOH (back of house) are a strange mix of people. Under educated, over educated, lots of drugs addicts, drug dealers, alcoholics, ex-cons, illegal aliens, witness relocation, students, drop outs, burn outs, mid life crisis, and at times the occasional killer, predator or flat out psychopaths. 

They are also a close knit group of transients. Usually accepting of everyone's quirks. You have to be. Conditions are close. The hours alone make it hard for you to have friends and sometimes family whom aren't in the industry. We work nights, holidays, weekends. Some places are never closed, 24/7, 365. Your days off are during the week. You run on a schedule that is almost the opposite of the rest of the world.  It can be great to have days off when the rest of the world is working. places are less crowded, and most things are open.

It is also very difficult to maintain any sort of normal relationship. If you're not in the industry the life style is difficult to understand.  I practically missed my child's entire life between ages of 7 and 10. It contributed to my divorce. 

It's the hours we work. Horrible, late, long. Most cooks are night people. As I write this it's 2am. 

At my current position, a Sous Chef at an international hotel chain, I work an average of 60+ hours a week. 10-12 hours a day, five days, often it's six. Often it's as many as 20 days in a row without a day off. 12pm to 12am or later. I spend the first two hours checking everything out, checking in with other sous', cooks, managers, going over the line set up, mise en place, specials, prep, banquets, special events, and the restaurant.I have to do my own line work and mise en place. The next 6-7 hours are spent on the line as the saute/grill chef. I run the line. I cover a section that is 14 feet long. The hot side is responsible for all of the entree dishes for dinner and a few items off the bar and pool menus, not to mention room service.  It's very hot. On average it runs about 85-120 degrees.  There are few breaks, sometimes none. It can be crazy busy one night and slow the next. Most night we serve about 200-300 covers a day. The last couple of hours are spent cleaning up, putting things away, going over inventory, placing orders, writing the prep list, organizing walk-ins,checking the other cooks line and cleaning, helping the dish washer clear the pit, checking in with the night cleaners and sending a nightly passdown email to all of the managers and chefs. 

Give or take...



 
 

Lost In Invisiblity...

When I was much younger, I wondered if I might be invisible. Not all the time, but often. I could be surrounded by people and wouldn't get noticed. They would look right through me, never at me. Now as I continue to age I'm convinced that I am actually invisible,  from time to time. And never by my choice. I just seem to fade out and then eventually back in.

It's an odd sensation.

It's been almost a year since I closed my studio. I miss it like breathing. I can feel it pulsing through my veins, calling to me. It never stops. I can hear it. I can't turn it off. I worry I may never get back.
The responsibility of being an adult never seem to diminish. The world always wants, no,  demands more and more and is never satisfied. Always more.

I don't understand what we've done. What we've become. I can see where things are headed ever so clear. Am I the only one? Can anyone else see what we have done to ourselves? That it's getting worse, not better? That greed, selfish ego, corruption and lies have become the norm, and are accepted as if it always been that way. Or always should have been that way. I just don't know anymore.

I scream. The louder I scream the softer my voice. No one hears. No one listens. No one cares about anything outside of their own beliefs, right or wrong, good or bad. There has become no room for growth or improvement, or knowledge. At what point do we stop striving to be better? When do we stop asking questions? When do we decide that we know everything we need to know and stop taking in additional knowledge? Why do we stop learning? Or more importantly, why do we start refusing to learn and think that we know everything there is to know? And then decide that everyone else is wrong even when confronted with empirical evidence and scientific proof?

Just why? Common sense is no longer common. Education has become the enemy of those in control. Education is feared more than any other threat. Truthful knowledge is power and its dangerous.

So I scream. I stand in the middle of the street and I scream out in pain from the bottom of my soul. Surrounded by people I scream from the top of lungs...

...nothing. No response. No reaction. Like I'm not there.

Silent.

Invisible.

Lost...

Is This Thing On...

Love Askew...

Of the few things that I have regrets about, the one that haunts me most is that our wonderful little Bug will have no memories of a life when we were in love. He has grown up in a home without love or affection. Of course we love him and show him as much affection as we can, but there is nothing but mean, cold, detachment toward one another. He will grow up thinking that our relationship is normal. Most of his friend have divorced parents so he has no reference from them either.  I had always dreamed that our son would grow up in a home that was warm and full of love, laughter, affection, romance and passion for life. I pray that when he falls in love, that he will follow his heart and not the icy example that we have given him.
I'm sad that I can't stop loving you. I'm sad that you are so cold and indifferent toward me. I'm sad that you can't love me. I'm sad that I was so blind to you and your real feelings.

Cold Indifference...

How do I stop loving someone? How do I make my heart realize that she doesn't love anymore? Or  realize that maybe she never really did? Her cold indifference toward me is like a knife to my skin. I miss her so much. I want to hold her and tell her how much I still care.
She doesn't love me. She doesn't even like me most days, I'm more of a toleration. Spending any amount of time with me is merely for our son and then I'm dismissed as soon as possible.
Why can't I let go and realize that she is not going to come back. Her heart has no room for me.
I keep hoping that one day she will see something in me that she used to see. But each time our eyes meet mine are met with regret. Why can't she see me the way we were? Why isn't my love and romance enough for her? Why am I not enough for her? I hate this. Why can't I let her go the way she let me go? I'm tired. I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of crying myself to sleep each night. I'm tired of missing what I thought we had. I'm tired of the rejection and cold indifference.

Think About Life Alone...

Why do you talk about me as if I weren't around? Why do you talk about our son as if he were only yours? Have you even considered that one of these days he will want to come live with me? Because he will. We didn't give him a choice as you decided that he's better off with you.  How much thought have given to what life will be like alone? You know, the life you expect me to accept without question. The life you keep telling me wont be as bad as I have imagined it being.
It's all about you and what your needs. You say it's because I can't take care of him. Maybe not right this moment, I can't, or at least not to your standards, but I will be able to very soon. What then? Are you willing to give him up as easily as you think I should give him up?
Have you thought about what it's going to be like, to be in your home and it's completely silent? No sounds of happy kid. No sounds of animals playing or fighting or running amok. Just you. The sound of your own thoughts echoing through your head and empty home. Have thought about life without him? Without any of it?  With out everything we spent the last 17 years working toward. Just you? Alone!
Just like you are asking me to accept. I hope you can live with it as easily as you expect me to live with things, because one day soon, he will want to live with me.
Enjoy your solitude and try to remember the bullshit you fed me about it all being alright.

If Only You Loved Me...

I try to understand. I try to see the situation for your point of view. I try to listen to myself explain things in my head. I try to hear you when you tell me that you don't love me. that you haven't loved me. My memories of us were happy. My journal tells a different story, of sadness and regret. I wonder who wrote these things. I can't believe that you said such mean and hurtful words toward me. I can't understand how you could push me away when all I ever wanted to do was worship you. I called you Precious. I thought you were my one true love. You are constantly in my thoughts. Even still, as I hurt more than I have ever hurt, I still love you. With a word I would run to your arms and hold you like there were no tomorrow. Everything that has happened forgotten in an instant...if only you loved me. How could you not love me when I love you with everything I have? How could that not be enough for you? What more can I  offer? I need someone to hold, to share my life, to love even if it's not completely the way I love you, I need to have someone to hold. To be held. How could you push me away? How could have pushed me away when I loved you? What was that supposed to accomplish? I need someone, anyone if I can't have he one I want but I need someone. You knew this and you pushed me away all the same. Is this what you wanted all along? You were trying to push me away to the point I couldn't or wouldn't come back? Did you want me to be the one to leave? How could I leave someone I love so deeply? How can you not see how much I care for you? I would try or do anything for you. Am I immature or weak minded? Is there something wrong with me that I can't let go? Why can't I be as cold and unloving toward you, as you are toward me? None of it matters to me. I would hug you and love you and never let you go...if only you loved me. We could be happy again. We could conquer the world. We could have the greatest life together...if only you loved me.

I Met Someone Today...

I met someone new today. I was sure that I had never met him before however he was very familiar with me. It made me uncomfortable yet I couldn't get away. His face was sad. Dark lines under his bloodshot eyes. Receding hair line and totally grey. A bit over weight and his posture sagged all over. I could feel his sorrow. I reached out for him and he reached back. We both looked surprised for a moment and then it faded back to sadness.

The realization that you are unrecognizable to even yourself would be heart breaking, if you had  a heart left to break. I've come to the end of a path, and I can see no path ahead of me. There is no fork in the road. Fear has a tight grip on me and she resists to let go. She feeds on me. I close my eyes but my sight remains. She follows me into dreams, when she lets me sleep. She distracts me from my distractions, always there, her whispers have grown louder and louder, never hesitating for a moment.
Why do you follow me this way?
Because you let me.
How can I turn you away?
Just turn.
How do I forget you?
You don't.
How can I say goodbye?
...

Release Your Grip On My Junk...

Why have we let our government take over ever aspect of our lives. We allow ourselves to be taxed and regulated to the point it's next to impossible to get things done. And if you can get things done it's next to impossible to make any profit because of the asinine fees, taxes and regulations, permits, insurance…it's fucking theft!

I can't take a dump without the government wanting a piece of it. Hands off you greedy soulless  bastards!

Choices...

Life is seldom what we expect. You dream and plan and end up trying to deal with what actually happened.

It's how we deal that matters. There are things we think we want. Want more than anything else. But maybe, we are really better off with out them. Maybe it's the longing and wishing that things had been different that is holding us back or slowing us down.

Every thing is a choice. The choices are easy. It's the living with those choices that gets difficult.

All The Time In The World...

Once I feel in love with Sunshine.
Every spare moment I spent basking in her glow and warmth.

When the complications of autumn arrive and the clouds fill the sky,
I miss my Sunshine and her warm embrace.

No matter how dark the winter may be,
springtime always comes.

The seasons can't be rushed,
for they have all the time in the world.

Enjoy each day as if it's the last,
and embrace the warmth of the Sunshine.

The Right Thing...

The funny thing about the right thing, is that the right thing isn't right for everyone. There is always someone that isn't going to agree with your decision. Especially when love is concerned. Is the right thing, wrong?

When love is in the air. No matter how great the passion, how great the attraction, how great the connection...eventually, one or both are going to get hurt. Even when you try to do the right thing.

Is it the right thing for the wrong reasons, or the wrong thing for the right reasons?

Even unintentional pain hurts.