Mistahsojourner - A Boy Coming To Terms

I’m reasonably certain there is an alternate timeline where America descends into fascism to the strains of “Holding out For a Hero” by Bonnie Tyler. 

Even as I sing along about pining for a street-wise Hercules, the spirit of eternal fascism tickles me. 

This song pines for Charles Bronson in Death Wish. 

It’s calling out for a version of Walt from Gran Torino who doesn’t have a redemption arc. 

It’s calling for a cop who becomes like The Punisher in real life. 

Umberto Eco wrote of the cult of heroism. 

This song could be the hymn for the cult of the avenging hero. 

https://youtu.be/iP_pq-7K0GM

Love this track.

Dark Rooms

Dark rooms is where you find the truth. You can solo this shit only so long before you just go fuckin' mad, my brothers and sisters. Listen to me I want you to take the hand of the person next to you in the dark. Squeeze their hand so they know it's okay. Yeah. It's okay. It's all broken and crazy and dumb and boring It's a dollar short for insulin on GoFundMe It's a shiny panopticon for you and me where they see everything It's hucksters It's pimps It's no more sick days left when you're about to fucking lose it. Yo. The pitch is this. Office Space meets Taxi Driver. It's that pregnancy test when the math don't add up. We're a room full of people saying, "But Doc, I am Pagliacci" and God damn it, we're all gonna save each other

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

The problem with school is that it doesn't teach you to be a human being.

I just love how all the follows I get on this account are porn bots. All of them.

I’m tryin’ to try

but if I die

I’m like, “Okay. Yeah.”

Sunday afternoons are a bad trip

without a sitter

without a map

without old men with kind eyes

who tell you exactly where the fuck you are

and how to get back home.

Heavenly Father

When I lose my religion 

I come to you. 

When hope is just a bitch

Maybe I lose it and I pray. 

I reach for the phone and start dialin’ for parts unknown. 

Heavenly father, 

one more day. 

Have mercy on your boy

cuz he’s for sale 

and he’s last year’s model. 

Have mercy on your boy 

cuz maybe today is gonna be the day. 

Have mercy on your boy

cuz he never asked to come out of that cave 

into this blinding white light screamin’ 

like he knew exactly what the hell was up. 

God damn it. 

Have mercy on your boy. 

Can ya do that? 

If not me, for someone who needs it more. 

Amen. 

I sit down here and I try this. Type my thoughts. Try to dress ‘em up like Fonzie or a monk who just got it. Thing is, usually I’m going nowhere. I’m not Fonzie. I’m not a monk. I’m not the hero. The world is full of people who think they need to be the big-dicked hero. 

We. We>me. 

I say that as I tickle these here keys all alone. Are we all these people having heroic fantasies all alone? We’re all Luke Skywalker staring at the horizon. Maybe it’s time to cut that shit out. Maybe we need to cut it out because it’s dangerous. 

I remember. Nah, I half-remember. Shit, maybe this never happened. I remember a Saturday Night Live Christmas parody. It was a parody of those holiday specials with the clay people. I dunno. Do you know what I’m talking about? Aight. There was a line that stuck with me. I don’t remember the context. I just remember the line, “It’s not about you, you douchebag.” 

IT’S NOT ABOUT YOU, YOU DOUCHEBAG. 

Maybe I’m way off here but that’s the heart of pure, undefiled religion right there. Of course, what happens with religion is people get transfixed by the messianic figures. That’s all they see. They try to see themselves in the messiahs. 

Went somewhere. Somewhere. Got lost there though. Might not be able to go any farther.