voxproletariat

I decided everything that had happened here (and some of it was great) had happened enough. So I’ll just leave it like it is. I sort of like the narrative of it. Where it starts and where it ends. Anyway, I have a new but rarely updated place over at  http://anthropodysmorphia.wordpress.com/ Filed under: Uncategorized Read Full Story

I’ve been giving the dead a lot of room in my thoughts the last few days. Probably too much, but they’re dead, so I figure cutting them a break on mental real estate can’t hurt anybody but the suburban developers trying to turn cranial farm land into Oak Place Terraces and Deer Meadow Glen Towne Place Courts. And fuck those guys. And fuck suburbs in general. They make me murdery. Though making me murdery lately has taken little. There is a mile wide current of black hate up past flood stage... Read Full Story

Because I refuse to let even one half semester of my GI Bill big government money check go to waste, I am in a sculpture class. Besides growing some new appreciation of the incredible musculature of the walrus, it has been a little bit of an eye opening adventure. I had no idea it was that much damn work to put together a fucking walrus. Not just physical work, though my forearms have never felt this level of pain, but mental work. You have to realize a creature you have never really been... Read Full Story

I have mentioned previously being in a band. I went through a serious bout of musically related depression not long back when all of my gear was stolen, with the exception of one lone Maxon OD pedal that had been dropped in the snow by the thieves. That pedal now picks up AM radio stations. The gear lost, while cheap, did have some serious sentimental value. I got the Global you see in the video from my Grandpa when he died and that strat has more deployments under its belt than most... Read Full Story

“Why did you quit? Was it your girlfriend?” No. My girlfriend has been very inspirational in many creative outlets, maybe not as much in writing, but she’s not the reason I stopped. I read through the archives and saw in them, at least at the supertextual level, a narrative of great conflict. The best writing plumbed it fairly well, the worst is immersed in it. The conflict, simplified, is a real need I must have had to reconcile who I was, am, to a larger theme of conscious creation that... Read Full Story

People who believe in angels bother me. That they find invisible spirits lurking along with them in moments of the most undivine. It’s a form of voyeur fetish, possibly. Or more accurately a safer type of exhibitionism. Exhibitionism in that there would be, in these instances of angelic watchers, a presence so doggedly concerned with the individuals goings on as to follow them through all manner of banal carnal taking and leaving. Further, there is the belief that these angels are following... Read Full Story

I try to find reasons to understand. And I watch the embers rise up and away from me in a funerary practice I just won’t ever understand. The death of something dead and its baptism into a world of further refined death. He died, finally. And it hurt me. It was a passage into some greater death. And in that, he joined the greater life. This is not some Disney inspired, Phil Collins narrated take. It is true. A majority mind-bogglingly vast of all life is no longer individually alive... Read Full Story

1.      Sometimes I love thick and lovely harmonic feedback. Sometimes I love the glissando and hollow banded sound of a dobro. Most Americana has some real high lonesome to it. It’s hard to describe what exactly that term means. I believe it bears familial resemblance to Celtic melodies. There’s a lot of non-rationalized semi tonalities and glided notes. The sound is hard to duplicate, but it’s so much a part of the American sonic pallete that most people, even those ignorant of... Read Full Story

There is some possibility I may finish a semi-crappy short story before May for submission. It has been consuming a lot of my time. In thought, mostly. I have been thinking quite a bit lately about the nature of people. I can think of my own arc from new car owning, social climbing suburbanite (though in a thoroughly unconventional vector) with Passionately Held Beliefs to a bike riding, cheap ass, don’t give a shit hippie. Not hippie as far as drum circles or bullshit karmic beliefs, just... Read Full Story

The world as a dynamic resting place of dead life is not entirely accurate. The earth has very, very little life bearing volume. The lithosphere, just the very top sheen of floating, congealed mantle, has a layer of life thinner than the sheen of algae in a fish tank by scale. The rocks we see, the hardened and brittle torn rocks, are not at all the earth. That’s like saying the split and dead ends of your hair constitute your person. They don’t even matter. And when you live in an area... Read Full Story