My breath tastes like fish n chips and I feel like I owe someone money.
Why the hell would the Washington Times wanna review my bands goddamn show?
Whutevah. Any publicity is good publicity I s’ppose.
Signing off on this beautiful, rare, hot-ass Wednesday morning,
Yours truly, the ineffable, interminable, exhaustively pseudo-intellectual,
It’s been a long time since I’ve posted, so here goes nothing.
I’ve been trying to figure life out these past few months.
Or whatever you want to call it.
I know it sounds lame, but I, like many others, have no idea what the purpose of life is.
I’ve gotten by all these years by convincing myself that wealth and gain are hollow ventures. Instead of these a particular function of life comes to mind - not one of greed, conquest, and survival of the fittest; rather, one of cooperation, social health, togetherness, and understanding. What were we put on this earth for other than to help each other out? Like it is said, the top of the mountain is a very lonely place to stand. I’d much rather be at the bottom, helping people find comfort there, helping them understand that real meaning comes from being with, not from being above.
That being said, I’ve chosen activism over philanthropy as my goal. Where philanthropy bandages the wounded, activism seeks to understand and eliminate the source of the wound. Philanthropy also places the philanthropist above the ones it aids, not just in economic status, but also ethically. The real evil of philanthropy comes when the philanthropist says “look at all these people I have helped! They could not help themselves; I had to step in and provide for them!” This is said with the assumption that the philanthropist feels that their importance is greater than those who are really at stake here. It is this that fails to heal the wrongs that have created the need to begin with. When the “aid” runs dry, the people who received it are generally tossed back down into the need that they started with.
Progress is key. Change is key. Understanding the root of the problem is key. Next time you are confronted with a homeless person (requesting money, sleeping in the streets, busking, sitting, anything), remember this: and I’m not saying this to seem ignorant, self righteous, holier-than-though, or educated on any of the subtleties of a huge domestic problem; the reason that someone is homeless is not necessarily that they’re lazy, rather it could be an issue of mental illness, socio-economic background, family issues, legal issues, disabilities, lack of opportunity, lack of resources, lack of support, etc. Give them some change? Fine, whatever. Don’t go feeling awesome about yourself for providing someone meager funds to continue their already irreparably damaged life. You know when you can feel fucking good about yourself? When you are directly involved in programs that empower the individuals in question to be the individuals that they already fucking are. When you live your life being kind to all people, treating everyone like they matter, treating everyone with respect and recognition. I’m not saying you shouldn’t chastise those who would subjugate others; I’m saying that you should do it with tact and respect, even if the person might not deserve it. There’s a difference between telling someone to fuck off and explaining to them, in detail, with respect and specificity, The exact reasons that you believe you would be in the right if you told them to fuck off. It’s a balance, I know, but an essential one.
One of my good friends once said, when discussing feminism “The moment we stop fighting is the moment we lose all the ground we’ve gained”. I agree with her wholeheartedly, but the fight is not the “fight” of those in power. It is impossible to fight fire with fire - scientifically, as it goes. One cannot subjugate to erase subjugation. Remember, “darkness cannot drive out darkness, only light can do that.” It is important to understand that a “police state” that subjugates with firearms and legal superiority cannot be outdone with firearms and moral superiority. One must approach such a task with logic, tact, respect, and most importantly, peace. Remember, violence gives others an excuse to react with violence. No good can come of this. The way the law is right now, if someone pulls a gun on you and, in turn, you pull a gun and kill them; you are not at fault. The same goes for all in a society such as this. I plead with you, do not be the one that pulls the gun first. I can guarantee that you will be the one who ends up punished. Approach with love, truth, respect, and honesty. This will confuse your enemy. If they react with violence, they’ll just end up looking like assholes.
At the same time, if they try to make meaningless compromises, you can’t give up. You need not only love, but courage to affect real change. Logic is an amazing weapon. I shouldn’t say that, because “weapon” implies something other than what logic really is - not a weapon, but a tool. A key. Something irrefutable.
Always remember though, never back down:
“there comes a time when silence is betrayal”
So, this is what I believe is the purpose of life. Speak up! Be heard! Love all! Seek understanding! Understand that you will never be able to understand everyone and everything! Never Subjugate! Balance the heart and mind! Be one with all! Think, and never stop! Question everything, even yourself, but always believe in yourself, even as you question! Goodness is key, love is key, oneness is key, respect is key, understanding is key! Remember, empathy is the greatest ability that sentient beings have!
The only reason that I can come up with for being here:
That is all.
(Humbly, Jack Erickson, 2013)
Autolux - Headless Sky
Great song, great albumPlayed 19 times.
Every named character is a good friend in real life, except for Sarah, who is my sister (and also my best friend) in real life
It is nighttime, and we are having a birthday party for mike at our fancy beach house. There is a nurse there. We are excited because mike is going to hook up with her. Snack is there, and he is trying to get Brad to hook up with this tall, white Australian woman. He says that Brad hasn’t gotten laid in a while and it is his duty to help his friend out. Mike explains to me how at his bigger party earlier he made people wear rolled up sheets as underwear. He realized that they looked like diapers and got them all to dance and sing like some character (possibly a Muppet) that has an act like this. A cat that we got for him starts meowing and crying. The nurse notices and mike starts crying too. When the nurse tries to comfort the cat it hisses at her. I explain to her that the cat just needs to smell her (the cat is a boy). I let the cat smell me and start to pet it, but at this point everyone present is in an uproar. I look for the nurse and the tall woman and find them playing cards in the bathroom. They think we are all weird and want to leave. I beg them to stay but they leave anyways. All of the sudden Kyle comes out of nowhere (he was not present at the party earlier). He says he is leaving, probably to do drugs with anonymous “others”. I beg him “Where did you come from? I have no idea where you’ve been all this time”. He tells me about Aaron’s birthday party, which is apparently happening up the hall.
I enter a door to another bedroom through one of the bathrooms, and within that bedroom I find another secret door. I go through it to find Aaron and Sarah hanging out in a huge, luxurious bathtub (three times the size of a hot tub) with a wine chiller and other fancy accouterments surrounding it. They invite me to join. As I enjoy there company my late grandfather walks onto the porch above our heads. I worry because I had no idea that our family was back (from somewhere?) and that the party was unsanctioned. My grandfather goes out to a great lawn that planes are flying by to help signal the planes in. He gets up on an arc de triomphe–style squared off archway to make sure the planes can see him. Pretty soon after he loses his balance and falls off. He hits the ground with a loud snap. I scream “Grandpa!” I know something is broken. I rush over, but by the time I get there his body has decayed so much that I can see right through his stomach to his spine, which has been snapped in half. This is the cause of death. I start to sob uncontrollably.” I didn’t even get to say goodbye to him”. I try to hug him but can’t get my arms around him because of how decayed the body is. Liz, who is also Paige, approaches the body and begins to put out her lit cigarettes above his head, claiming that this helps his body get to heaven. I know that Liz is trying to help, but Paige has no idea how shitty she’s making everything. An old black woman comes up and comforts me. Together we take the cigarettes away from his head and his body fades so that he can rest. We go over to a table on a freeway above the lawn to celebrate his death. On the way there a day passes. During the journey I remember a gospel song that I heard as a kid (this is not true in real life) that goes “Don’t be eatin’ chicken (legs) when the light comes”. At the table there are a bunch of people of multiple races sitting down. Someone brings up a song that goes “Don’t be eatin’ chicken (legs) when the maid comes”. We are trying to figure out why the maid would care about your chicken leg consumption. I eventually remind them that it is “when the light comes” and not “when the maid comes”. We discuss the absurdity of it being a bad thing to be eating chicken legs when you die. I try to make a joke “So I’m just sitting there, eating my kfc legs, and then all of the sudden god comes to finish answering my prayer? “ I try to say the line “god comes to finish answering my prayer?” in southern voice for comedic effect. Everyone is laughing at the joke but I am worried that the southern voice I used came off as a bad, stereotypical black voice. I sit there anxiously. I wake.
All - surrounded -
Life like beaming heads
All wrapped up, dead;
Wants far instead
Guns were sounded -
Write up scattered thoughts
Ground up what I brought;
Alone is what caught
Down what ended;
Minds have gathered weeds -
They sowed the many seeds;
abundance what they breed
All the dreaded
Thoughts of broken birds -
We took in all the words
That grew up tall and stern
Worked up better;
To sleep and not wake up;
To sleep and not wake up
You know, dog, I’m not wearing these socks because they’re comfortable. You see, when people are employed (although I don’t have a job, so who am I kidding?) they have to look nice. they wear these long, dark, sharp-looking socks because that’s just what you wear when you’re someone important, at least in the corporate world. And all these people wear their uncomfortable socks so much that they just get used to them. They get used to being uncomfortable. Why do I wear these socks? Everyone’s so used to them that they’re what looks good. I’m just trying to look good, whatever that means and for whatever its worth. Maybe one day fuzzy, ankle-high socks will be what looks good, although I doubt it. They’re too comfortable.
A song by yours truly. Hope you enjoy.Played 9 times.