Passion.

Passion will carry you further than any human emotion; there is love, there is hate, there is fear, but passion will let you hover above all of these things. Passion is a sustained moment of perfection, where you will float above doubt and critique, where you lose the fear to care, and take a leap.

We sacrifice passion for what is deemed necessary, what is deemed normal, what is depicted as acceptable, passion will plow through it all...doubt, sadness, and sometimes madness. When you sacrifice all for passion, you will reach immortality. The money will not matter, you will hold disdain of fame, you will only want to be alone, with your passion. It is an essence, a sense, unattained by so many who will never know the hunt has begun.

It can destroy and create love, it will force you to rise above the clouds of mundane existence, and it will channel you to something better, something never before seen by the crowds of onlookers, who drown in the wonderment of what has made you different than they. You will not care if they see, as you exist, and feel that existence, and how beautiful it can be, when you dedicate yourself not in part, but whole. You will not care about their thoughts, about their judgement, nor their ridicule, for you have found passion, something nobody but yourself will understand, something you will never have to explain, it WILL NOT be contained and cannot be simply obtained. It is a fire within, that will never stop burning, the endless yearning to outsiders discerning, the closet human contact can be to divine gears churning. 

For it is passion, it is life, and for those that do not seek, and do not sacrifice, they will never find, the core of life.

The Rant to End All Rants.

America is in a state of confusion, where the backwards moves us forward, and rallies for "change" have quickly transformed into the progression of hope's suffocation. Hope, trampled by blood-lust and frenzied masses, as they celebrate the demise of invisible foes and conjured enemies. Hope, dangling above the starved by the depraved, a teasing game with a ball of yarn, just to watch the cat do flips for nothing in return. Hope, sealed behind the guise of a classified envelope, revenge for the written word, once burned in stacks by people, now the words order the burning, all sealed behind doors of laughter and purposeful ignorance, chosen stupidity, only a more innocent and less cowardly version of aversion.

If you don't understand the imagery in it's entirety, don't be alarmed, for you are human, and this part of your brain has actively been eviscerated since your conception. As an update on the country, people are rallying all around the country at this moment to "avenge" the death of Trayvon Martin, wide rallies in various cities all call for George Zimmerman, to be prosecuted, executed, electrocuted, anything to satisfy their thirst for vengeance. This fire has been fueled by the President, by The Justice Department, by corporate media. There have been no calls for peace, for reconciliation, or even directions to READ by definition what "Murder 1" is, and how without clear, premeditated intent to murder beyond a reasonable doubt, it cannot be.

Of course, as a writer, I must recuse myself to a degree, because many people don't understand what "corporate media" even is, and still think the petty jokes about "FOXNEWS" illegitimacy are not jokes reserved for the media as a whole. The fact is CNN, MSNBC, FOX, ABC, are all misguided bastards of information, with intent to gain ratings, not to inform the public of truth, especially a public who loudly rejects truth at every turn, a public who cannot see but two inches beyond it's own face, a public who will gladly mock, then intimidate, then threaten an opposing view until finally, after the damage is done, that opposing view is proven correct, then the public will fade into the background like cowards, ignoring their own actions without ever acknowledging how wrong they were. Who would want to tell an unapologetic tank full of sharks they are in captivity, when all they want is to be fed? This is the reality of our time.

While Obama and his goons desperately try to damage the legal system like they have destroyed the main legal foundation of this country for years, a petty attempt to muster racial tensions, as ignorant whites and blacks alike call into their stupid talk-radio show hosts, and share their infantile views on the case...the House voted today to NOT curtail the wide domestic NSA spying programs across the nation. While hundreds of people killed one another over the past two months, black, white, Latino, and everything in between without a pip from any major media outlet, Obama got away free with his corrupt and politically slanted IRS, and the Department of Justice got away with outing major news sources from the one major news outlet that actually does it's own research, The Associated Press. It doesn't do it's research very well, but unlike FOX, CNN, and the likes, at least it gathers it's own information.

I've taken a walk from all of this, from the constant onslaught of corruption and shit in this nation to focus on myself and what makes me happy, because as a political writer, happiness is impossible. Every day I read a news article, I only learn of the new position my government puts me in as it rapes me, and how I cannot abort the bastard rape-child I bear within. It's infuriating. 25% of every hour I bust my ass to barely get by, is stolen by the government and wasted, I'm forcefully taking part in so many things I disagree with to my bone. I am tired of it. I'm tired of trying to make people realize how bad things really are. I thought those three cases would be enough to expose how much of a liar and crook Obama is, and just like the snake he is, he wiggled out of it, by helping turn George Zimmerman into the national scapegoat. President Obama doesn't care if a race war broke out in Florida because of the case, he hasn't once asked others to respect the law or asked for George and his family's safety, not once has he asked anyone to be rational, because as I've repeated so many ways over the years, he doesn't care, as long as he's off the hook.

Did you know Obama is half black? Did you know he is half white? Did you know he doesn't give a flying fuck about 100% of blacks and 100% of whites?

I've stopped writing about politics and social issues for the most part because to be honest, most people don't get it, either their egos are too big or their senses too dull, of their intelligence too low to comprehend simple ideals or morals I attempt to bring to the table. Those who do care enough to read and comment only seem to do so for the sake of argument, to jerk off their own egos, not to actually meet at agreements, but to see who can turn a discussion into a childish poop-throwing competition faster. Money is the thing most people care about these days. A President is seen as good if the country generates money under him, and that is endlessly dangerous. We sell our souls collectively these days. Work jobs we hate, temper the mundane, the boring, the average, the false sense of normal because it's better than the unknown alternative. Someone is seen as "doing good for themselves" if their job pays well, doesn't matter what kind of person they are or what the job is, just if it pays well.

Newsflash: This world will someday be turned upside down, and all of that false wealth will show it's true value, nothing. If you have sacrificed yourself, integrity, your own good for a piece of paper, you have sold everything for nothing. That day will come so much sooner than you expect it to.

It was recently brought to my attention how many of my "peers" wonder "what I am doing?" as if I am just flushing myself down the toilet. I've spent the last year dedicating myself to boxing, overcoming injuries, fears, gaps of knowledge and athleticism to compete. Pipe dreams to some. If I went in the ring tomorrow and knocked out the Middleweight champion of the world, everyone would know what I've done, there would be praise, everyone would want to know me, to talk to me. Kids would want my autograph, girls would want my hand, and the world would be upside down from the exterior. The only difference to me in this scenario would be that I just got paid a fat purse.

Outside of that I would have studied film, sparred tough opponents to ready myself, pushed myself physically every day because of my hunger to be a competitor and my want to get better, nursed injuries, wiped away blood, lost nights of sleep to aches and pains, fought off my want to drink or smoke or eat things I shouldn't, constantly battled with myself to find a self-discipline that is inhuman. These are only a fraction of it, it takes so much more work than anyone on the outside can comprehend, and that's what I've spent trying to perfect the past year. I've been actively digging into my own soul to see what I am made of, what levels of pain I can take, how far I can push myself before I fall, if I have the mental toughness to will myself forward when every cell in my body is screaming for me to stop, to rest, to sleep, to relax. I've learned that I have ability to get hit, that I can deflect punches that would injure most, to sustain punches that would injure most, and most importantly, have the courage to keep pressing forward. Boxing has never been about money for me, it's always been about learning who I am. To the outside, if it doesn't make money it doesn't make sense, and that's fine, but to someone like me, those on the outside are weak.

Recently, I've been focusing my energy on stand-up comedy as I've been nursing a shoulder injury, once again, it doesn't pay me anything, but I enjoy it. Like boxing, there are technical aspects those on the outside don't often see, and just like boxing, it takes something most people don't have or try to develop, courage. Go in front of 50 people tomorrow and try to make suicide, war, drug overdoses, real hard hitting social issues funny, go make them laugh. See how it makes you feel standing up their with nothing but a microphone and some nerve. If I had my own HBO special, and toured the country as a comedian, I could brag at my ten year reunion about how far I've come, about how I have all my debts paid off. So many people I know would be happy if I did a bit about them in my act, or offered them a flight and free tickets to one of my shows, once again I'd be "successful" just like if I was champion of the world.

I'm done with the politics, or at least telling you about it, because soon enough they will beat on my door and arrest me for it, that's where I picture this country going. Because outside of the ring and off the stage, I don't see much bravery these days. Between the high taxes, the mandates, the surveillance of emails, phone communication, the satellite imagery than can see your backyard, the invasive search and seizures without warrants, the police brutality, the gun laws, free speech laws, drone programs, illegal wars, news companies turned commercial, refugee whistle-blowers, imprisoned whistle-blowers, CCTV expansion, drug tests, tobacco tests, mental evaluations, all spread gracefully over a land with the world's largest prison population, I don't see much freedom either.

The land of the free and home of the brave? I'll tell you what I've been doing, digging into the depths of who I am as a being, both in this world and beyond, I've been studying the geopolitical arena, following trends, mapping out what I see as a full global economic collapse, taking punches, making jokes, chasing girls, developing a destructive right hand, tweaking social commentary, reading, exploring reality, REAL reality, I stop and look at trees and stars and the Moon, I've been smelling the roses, and working tough jobs for bad pay, all with a degree, and a chip on my shoulder, and an imagination that carries me from one project to another. I've been hanging out on the big playground, living, trying to find my way, writing poetry, a book, a joke, just for a smile, a conversation, an agreement, or a connection to someone I want to know more about, because my life it boring. I'm playing, surviving, uncovering, learning. I am rich, and I am so, so disappointed that people keep trying to bring me down with their petty dimes.

Untitled Short Story from October 3rd, 2002, found in 2013

The little man asked why I had not helped him out sooner. I had no idea what he was talking, and I was rather frightened by his mania. I asked if he was real, or if I may have accidentally came into contact with some harsh paint fumes. He just laughed at my question, believing me to be facetious though I projected a serious tone. I asked him to explain why he had come to me in the night, but before I let him rant, I went to the kitchen to make sure the date, time, and all things in my house were undisturbed and in order, so I would know it wasn't a dream.

The man explained to me that he had evolved from a green bean. I thought this was of course, hard to believe, but the fact is, when a little green man is talking to you, many things become believable. It dawned on me that last week my mother made a stew with potatoes, green beans, and undetermined meat. I asked the man if it was possible my mother didn't cook the food thoroughly.

"Slow down" He said.

"Let me introduce myself before we get too far into details. My name is Gerdro, but the other 'Vegetable People' call me 'The Lean Mean, Rabid, Psycho, Green Bean'."

After hearing his nickname, I decided to refer to him as Gerdro. Gerdro told me he rose from beneath my bed, and I immediately knew how he came into existence. I. Despise. Green Beans. When my mother made stew the other day, I stuck my bowl under the bed and purposefully forgot about it, I would rather not think about green beans, let alone eat them. Now that my first question was answered, Gerdro opened a wider conversation.

He told me of a wise Carrot Man who dwelled in my kitchen, mighty Olive Warriors that have been the only 'Vegetable People' to survive after traveling to the depths of my basement, and the dreaded, Evil Potato in my brother's room, who seeks to destroy all of mankind. It was an odd and surprising story to me, but I knew something had to be done about the guy from Idaho, trying to be a hot potato and all. Gerdro explained the facts of the 'Vegetable People' to me, how long their life spans are, and al details you would want or wouldn't want to know. After two hours of 'Vegetable Speak' I decided it was time to devise a plan for the safety of the 'Vegetable People' and the preservation of mankind.

I put Gerdro in my hand and walked down into the basement to meet The Olive Warriors. During his search on the floor, Gerdro unexpectedly ran into a wild gang of peas. I heard his intimidating nickname, but was still taken back by how much of a scrapper Gerdro really was. He took out ten peas by himself, they may have been smaller, but he was outnumbered. Gerdro battled in a life and death struggle until my dog, Melvin, appeared and ate all ten of the vile pea creatures. After a ten minute search, we found The Olive Warriors, and discussed how we must stop The Evil Potato. The Warriors happily agreed, and we all decided it was time to visit The Wise Carrot.

On our journey to The Carrot, an unsettling feeling of evil lurked over my senses. The Carrot forewarned of danger, and said for a proper resistance and any hope of victory, we must travel far into the backyard to meet The Rotten Pepper Army. We grouped up with Sgt. Pepper and his men, and even convinced a few beetles in the yard to help in our struggle, giving us a sizable force. We created three divisions out of Sgt. Pepper's Army, the beetles, and The Olive Warriors, whom were slowly losing their pimento from all the travel. The plan was a three-pronged attack, much like the one Washington used to drive out the British during the Revolutionary War. As the divine Eater, I named Gerdro General of the 'Vegetable People' and we pushed on.

We made our way towards my brother's room when my companion, Sargent Pepper brought up an interesting question.

"What in tar-nation is this Potato-Bastard's weakness?"

After I waded through the judgement of Sargent Pepper's incoherent and incompetent ways of communication, I figured the question he raised was in fact important. Sargent Pepper explained there was an old worm in my parent's liquor cabinet, and that the worm could give us an extra edge. I wasn't too sure what kind of weakness a potato would have, or what kind of thinking capability a worm held, but either would have to be smarter than Sargent Pepper. To the worm we went.

The worm laid lifeless when I arrived to the cabinet. I figured right then he was dead, and we wasted our time walking back down the stairs to the cabinet. During our travels through the house, I carried our army in a zip-lock bag. We had a few altercations between Gerdro and The Pepper Army, so I had to put Gerdro on my shoulder so he would stop hazing the other troops. Gerdro slid down my arm to check on the worm. He kicked the worm in his third appendage, causing the worm to move and cough. The worm slurred his worms and couldn't seem to wiggle right. The damn thing came out of a bottle of Tequila. Deciding I had already had enough of odd visions between a dumb Pepper Army, some Olive Warriors, and a group of beetles, i killed the drunken worm. A completely wasted worm would do absolutely nothing to help the cause, so I trashed him, took complete control over the operation, and decided the visiting of random oddities around the house were done.

I quickly moved to my brother's room. I was tired and uncomfortable from all of the strange things, making me short-tempered. I searched for The Evil Potato, and sure enough, he sat fat in the closet. He had a group of potato chips with him who escaped from their bag, alongside a very tough cookie, who had a chocolate chip on his shoulder. I knew the battle would be difficult to win. The Potato laughed in a creepy and deep tone, saying nothing.

"What do you hope to accomplish Potato?!" I kind of hollered, since it was late and my family was sleeping.

The Potato gave me no reply, only a loud and evil cackle. The Potato Chips attacked and I let my army loose from their bag. After a four minute skirmish, all of the Potato Chips laid strewn over the shelf, broken both in spirit and physical form. Gerdro destryoed them single-handedly. Just before we began to push to The Potato, my dog, Melvin ran up and chomped the evil underground spud. Melvin bit down as The Potato's blood curdling scream echoed for a few inches. Melvin wasn't done there, he devoured The Potato and then turned and ran through The Olive Warriors and Sargent Pepper's Army with on shame. I didn't know what to do, so I watched in awe.

In an instant, the 'Vegetable People' were decimated, and Gerdro was nowhere to be seen. I began to feel bad as Melvin rolled over on his side, expecting a belly-rub. I realized I wasn't sad at all that these people were gone, I was in fact, glad. It was too weird having those little creepy things all around. But the real reason I rejoiced in their extermination dawned on me. The whole time I traveled with the vegetables I didn't think about the main reason why they sat around under my bed and in the basement long enough to take lively forms. Now that they were gone I remembered why they existed to begin with, it was the same reason I never stepped in to help Gerdro defeat the peas, and why I didn't care that Melvin consumed all of 'The Vegetable People'. I just took a deep breath and quietly reassured myself.

"I hate vegetables."