Mistahsojourner - A Boy Coming To Terms

I suspect that I’m getting better at this. What is this? That would be writing. Pause. Scratch chin. Take sip of water. Get up and close the door. I sit with my feet up on the desk. My keyboard sits in my lap and I type away. 

It was one of those angry drives home. It was one of those drives home where I just got murder in my heart. I just got weaponized hate up in me. Anything I might possibly say is gonna be barely coherent. I’m gonna shout. I’m gonna keep shouting til I can’t anymore. I’ll be out of breath and none of it will be cathartic. I won’t feel better. I hate that kinda anger. I’m glad I didn’t do that today. It’s anger at the world and the people who run it. People talk about evil. They talk about people who do monstrous things. They talk about ‘em like they got glowing red eyes and how you can smell sulfur when they walk by. I believe it was Hannah Arendt who talked about the banality of evil. It’s these utterly unremarkable dudes like Scott Pruitt and Jeff Sessions who fuck up the world. They don’t look like monsters but what they do is monstrous. They get to manufacture a hellish reality for millions of people and then they probably go home and watch Blue Bloods or Chicago PD or something and then maybe their wife gives them a half-hearted hand job and then they are back at it the next day. That’s how they do. 

It’s good that I’m diligent at putting words to the page almost every single day but maybe I need to strive for more than that. I don’t know what exactly. I think the paragraph above had its moments. I fantasize about poetry and literary journalism. 

Making a living distracts me. Takes too much time, ya dig? Shit. That fucking game has us all by the nuts. 

I think to myself, “Where the fuck you going with this? Do you just want to stop? Chill the rest of the night?” 

I really do. 

I will actually. 

Due to a mix-up that is too stupid to explain, my appointment never happened. 

That sudden peace and drive safe was me be being lazy as fuck. 

God damn it.

https://youtu.be/-65HmxjIzPI

Funny as hell.

Kinda tempted to make an NSFW blog. Yeah. Be more open about my freaky side.

The world will terrorize the fuck out of you. It does not need your help.

We’ve all been traumatized by the society we find ourselves in. Some of us get traumatized more than others but most all of us have had pain heaped upon us by a society that is profoundly fucked up.

If ya get a chance to talk to people. Like, really talk. This shit is gonna come up. 

Monday, Fuckin’ Monday

If my chest ever caves in and I find myself standing before the wrong God, it’s probably gonna be on a Monday. 

Monday is for bad shit. It shouldn’t really be that way, should it? Nah, it shouldn’t but it is. It should be for staying in bed, if you want to. It shouldn’t be for dread. It shouldn’t be about living to suffer. It should be about watching dogs be all happy with their heads sticking out the window in the passenger seat of a car. It should be about petting strange cats. It should be about taking some time to cry if you need to.

See, that’s why I think we need to quit this capitalism shit. It’s way overrated and it’s profoundly evil. I suspect most everybody who has ever worked knows in their heart how fucked up it is. They know it ain’t right. They know the game is rigged but they keep playin’ the game because they don’t know anything else. They can’t imagine anything else. I don’t even know if I can imagine anything else. The word faith just popped into my head. Faith. What the fuck is faith for me? Belief that something better is possible. I’m not talking about the idea that some day I’ll be brave, sexy and rich. No. A better world. 

I woke up this morning mildly stoned. I always tell myself that I will not get so fucking stoned on a Sunday night but I never listen to myself. I could be wrong but I think it’s quite possibly a bad idea to be even a little high at work. Who wants to be stoned in an office building? Let me tell you, it’s not fun to come into the office at 7 AM and get told that everything is on fire and you are the one that’s going to put it out. I’ve had that happen and lived to tell about it. Oh god damn it. Not this. I don’t need this. Beads of sweat on the back of my neck. Fuck. Why did I come to work today? Cuz I’m tryin’ to be an adult. I haven’t missed a day. People think I’m reliable. People think I’m personable. People think I know my shit and I kinda need all that because on paper I’ve been a bum for like 5 years and I’m trying to quit that. Okay. Let’s do this. You got this, brotha. You got this. 

Yeah. Nothing happened today. Nothing that made me sweat. I spent a lot of time looking busy and some time actually working and I just ran out the clock and now I’m here typing this. 

Guess most everybody who is everybody hates Mondays. That might be true but I don’t find a lot of solace being a member of that club. Typically, I just want to get the fuck home and sleep it off. It was alright though. Maybe tomorrow the devil will decide to fuck me up. God, I hope not. 

I’m one neurotic son of a bitch. It’s not good. I should probably be talking to someone. 

I guess I could be more well adjusted. I never want to be too adjusted though.

It’s a queer thing. What’s a queer thing? Glad you asked. I live in mortal terror of some stressed out motherfucker who can afford to play golf coming to my desk to yell at me but see, there is all this crazy shit going on in the background. 

The President is talking crazy and sinister. You know it ain’t normal. You know you can sense evil. You know the substance of that shit. You tell people you got a bad feeling. People tell you not to worry. 

People are being put in cages but it’s people without power. It’s people who don’t speak English. Bad shit happens in these cages but see, it’s people that society is comfortable un-personing. It’s them today but who the fuck is it gonna be tomorrow?.

You know you’ve seen this guy before. He’s some kinda archetype. He’s a manifestation of the worst parts of all of us. Sometimes you find yourself yelling till you’re hoarse but you get told to calm the fuck down. 

Truth be told, I got no clue what to do. I know there is so much going on outside of myself. I’ve podcasted my rage and my concern. I’m a dues paying member of the local chapter of Democratic Socialists of America and hell, I may even have to start turning up at meetings. I have an ACLU membership card in my wallet. I’ve donated money to striking teachers. I know all of that is so very, very little. 

As I type this, the song Holding out for a Hero by Bonnie Tyler is playing on a loop. The words seem sinister to me in the place where my head is at. The idea of a hero riding upon a fiery steed seems fashy as fuck. 

There were some twists and turns here, right? 

I’m really tempted right now to just write the words “Monday fuckin’ Monday” and be done with this. Yes, that would be really lazy. 

Monday, fuckin’ Monday.