Don’t care for arts
The mountain pose
Hips are neutral
Lie down for
Though my life
I tend to mangle
Now I reach out
Find the bolsters
Lay the mat
Thrice a week
When feeling fat
Had to see
My husband’s mama
Good I practice
Things are certain
Such as death
For now I have
This earthly breath
What’s the future
No one knows
Up here in
A high crow pose
Will I make it
If I fail
Come on in, due salutations
Tis the season for libations!
Put down all your earthly asks,
Please remove your stuffy masks.
How’s your mother, how’s your father?
Have you visited? Oh, why bother.
What else can we talk about.
Did you hear that moron shout?
Nevermind, that is depressing,
How our nation is regressing.
I meant to move to climes upbeat,
Anyways, just have a seat.
Let’s have some wine and have some cheese
Have some comfort, have some ease.
How’s James at college, kicking ass?
Or can he never go to class?
Is Susy looking for a job?
by Jake Orlowitz
Saturday night the lighting came, thousands of bright white flashes in the sky. People said it was the most beautiful storm they’d ever seen. Hundreds of fires sparked across the landscape. The fires connected forming what they call a Complex.
They cut the power to our neighborhood in 95 degree heat. We sat around a pool telling ghost stories and drinking ice water from our cooler in large orange mugs we’d gotten from the hospital when they were worried my wife would hemorrhage before the baby was born.
Tuesday afternoon we came back from cool evening beach…
I’ve made a handful of seminal decisions that changed the course of my journey.
The decision to start wrestling in middle school.
The decision to go to Wesleyan for college.
The decision to come home from Colorado in my 20's.
The decision to take meds at the mental hospital.
The decision to talk to Siko at Wikimania in D.C.
The decision to move to Santa Cruz.
The decision to leave the WMF.
I’ve made another big one…
The decision to quit the E-cigarette I’ve been puffing on 500–1000 times Per Day the last 8 years.
It’s been one week, and…
Trump is a malignant, sociopathic narcissist… a petty, venal, vindictive, brazen, craven, ignorant, blame-shifting, excuse-making, disconnected, ineffectural, infantile, deluded, incompetent, irrational, obtuse, pathetic, unhinged, corrupt, smug, self-satisfied, self-dealing, perverse, arrogant, authoritarian fraud.
But, and this is a stark confession: there’s a part of me he appeals to.
There’s a subconscious, reptilian part of my brain that hears his words and sees his actions and thinks, “that’s good”. This ancient, reactionary part of my nervous system thinks is “that’s good — for him — and what’s good for him is good.” What the fuck?
I shamefully admit this despite every other…
John Moreland takes on another expansion of liberating rediscovery and experimentation in LP5. Different textures and background layers add muscly new dimensions, and little moments make it compelling, especially when there’s a rich blend of every element. With kaleidoscopic texture and soundscapes, warm gleaming electric touches drop into the silence and ripple outwards in the wake.
LP5 is a gloriously fulsome piece of art with the fullest sonic footprint. The lilting guitar lullabies, soulful and inspired, shine like never before with an airy, glacial, glassine acoustic bliss that is both spacious and spectral. The music is hushed and ethereal, textured…
Please support the full book *Welcome to the Circle*. Now live on Kickstarter: bit.ly/CircleKickstarter
A vagina is the greatest cul de sac in the world. It’s a nice place to raise a kid.
A mental institution is the worst cul de sac in the world. There’s only one way out but everyone is still lost.
We all get into a cul de sac the same way. At some point, we got fucked.
A baby knows there’s only one exit to a cul de sac. But it still gets stuck if it goes breech. If it tries to get out feet…
I spent the nights at a 24-hour gas station
The lights were bright
Even at 3:37am
The magazine rack was stocked
and I read every one
There were hot dogs on rollers
they were cheap
There were packs of almonds
and single- serving cheese
Fountain refills cost 50 cents
but they didn’t mind
The bathrooms were always clean
The newspapers delivered on time
There were two tables
where you could read the comics
Or rest your head
like on an airplane
There was another man who came in like me He had long gray hair and he said…
Please support the full book *Welcome to the Circle* live on Kickstarter:
You can’t help this time.
So how does that make you feel?
It hurts, doesn’t it?
We are all alone
And that is your greatest fear:
Can it set you free?
You can only help
The people who are ready.
The rest fall again.
Do you care too much,
Because it masks your own pain?
Your journey matters.
Take care of yourself.
Take care your only true self.
Then you will find peace
Did you lose yourself?
In depression there’s nothing. …