The geographical point
that is the furthest from any ocean
is in the center of Antarctica.
It is the most
And on these specific coordinates
there is a statue bust
of Vladimir Lenin.
There is no escaping
Please I am trying
to find a place
where no one
can find me
and the Russians
always get there first Continue reading
my parents make me go to cognitive behavioral therapy
after breaking into my room and reading my journal
all of the passages about what is wrong with america
about starting a fistfight in bed bath & beyond
a warning sign if ever there was one
my therapist asks if i often feel angry and i say yes
my therapist asks if i feel in control of my life
i say that physically i am the strongest that i have ever been
my therapist writes something on his notepad
by the end of the session i want to punch myself in the face
realizing how much i’ve betrayed myself in the past year
like when i unconsciously laugh in serious moments
to proactively defend myself against possible rejection
i laugh when my mom tells me that i am fat for a teenage boy
i laugh when my dad tells me that real men don’t cry
i laugh when my grandpa shares his theory about the earth being flat
laughing makes me feel awkward instead of sad
i laugh on my way out of the therapist’s office
then cry all the way home
Is anybody surprised that this world is going to shit? I’m saddened but not surprised. After all I live in America, a country that continues to purchase Red Hot Chili Peppers albums by the millions.
The Red Hot Chili Peppers (RHCP) put out a new album in 2016 and I commend them. Not because they put out a new album but because they managed to release the same album they’ve released since 1995. The lyrics are different, the titles are different, but I imagine half of the songs will still be about California. It’s almost as if they are daring radio stations to not play their albums.
It’s fitting that in a year marred by the deaths of musical luminaries and the election of a fascist, the Red Hot Chili Peppers release an album that reaches number 1 on the Billboard charts. Who are the people buying these albums? Who wakes up in the morning and says, “Man, I can really go for some slap bass and corny rapping”?
Here’s the thing about RHCP: they are not horrible. They are definitely not good but they are not total shit. It’s the kind of music that’s perfect for the soundtrack of a romantic comedy. I imagine a 40 year old, recently divorced accountant climbing into his Saab after a long day of crunching numbers and rocking out to this album on his way to Buffalo Wild Wings.
It’s the perfect music for people who don’t want to try very hard. RHCP is a band you settle on. When you’ve given up on finding new bands you fall back on RHCP. They are the Hillary Clinton of music. They’ve been around forever, they’re not very exciting, and they expect undeserved loyalty. You wish they would quietly go away to make room for others but they won’t. They’ll stick around, attempt to reclaim past glory, and their fans will make passionless attempts to sway you over to their side. Continue reading
Francis Bacon – Triptych 1944
His build was too slight
for the amount of heroin
he shot. His heart
mud tar. He felt
a window shatter
in a bright
room inside him. Glass
flew like fanged
bats from his throat.
Someone spoke. He wasn’t
breathing. He wasn’t
but staring at the ceiling.
There used to be a small, tranquil town, two mountain ranges over. It was supported by a steady stream of goods from local traders and the secondary economies that one will find in rural mountain burgs: a drug store, a diner that served delicious cakes, a cloth shop, and so forth. After November, the snow blanketed this little community, and because motor traffic was light, the town would remain as white as linen until the spring thaw several months later. It was a festive little village and the holidays were a time of great joy and celebration for its denizens. What I’m getting at here is that Christmas was a big deal in our idyllic township.
As the eldest child, at the start of every school year, I received a new pair of boots, and the older ones were passed down to my first younger sister, who handed hers down to our brother, and on they went down the line. The same descending transaction occurred with coats and nearly every other item that we owned. But Christmas was a different matter. Mother made a small economy out of selling goose fat to the larders, and that money went into a tin that once held Royal Dansk Cookies all the way from Denmark. Continue reading