f*** ur tariffs!

I live anachronistically. I be free in that manner. I like to write ungrammatically / seldom swing a red mark / because* I don’t prostate myself to red marks. I do not submit. I won’t entangle myself in the prevailing system no mo’. I speak relativistically. Think that way, too. We all make choices and believe in our own thing. I speak strangely. Recondite pronounciations. I say strange+abstruse+ugly ‘tings to suit my headspace. 

And so I’ll say this to you /

icy fingers linger / thoughts fritter away / ideas spiral up into the borehole in the sickly green sky / maybe spanglish says it best / 

me cago en el state of humanity … 

(maybe that doesn’t capture it so well) 

i dance a jig on a bumper crop of needless death… don’t do needles, kids… concentrate+synthesize ° then utilize ° your divine discontent… live and create in the midst of the desert… 

… we must imagine sisyphus happy …

they ain’t no choice but to push on … get above thee, boulder!

I forgot to tell you! The hairy (back hair) guy we saw the other day, on Perkins St., is howling man!

I saw him yesterday, shirtless and in shorts again, in 36 degree weather during my bike ride.

He was doing a variation of his howl (much lower) and rubbing his hands over his forehead and eyes (like Curly from the 3 Stooges—I swear!) and everybody stopped at the intersection of Perkins and Jamaicaway were staring, mouths agape, at him. Traffic locked.

Poor Howling Man cracked. (world was too much with him)

Oh… and… f*** ur tariffs! U saggy orange kumquat!

What I’m Reading:

In twenty thousand years, when the dust settles on this earth
and the despair, and
its fires burn out, and it recovers from horrors that today seem endless,
and the planet returns to what it was twenty millennia ago—
green with blue water, and white clouds always—
then we will meet.

— Hala al-Shrouf / “We will meet, don’t be in such a rush”