The Fallen Champ

The icepack made his eye feel sick, like the disappointed queeze inside his stomache. No pain could overshadow the crippling defeat. Ten years. Days and days of six hour jogs, thousands of sit-ups, hundreds of healthy meals forced down the hatch, broken hands, pints of blood, tears, and all of the grunts and squints that come with a man’s struggle to perfect himself over ten years, wasted. Ten years of work and dedication all collapsed within as he searched every corner of his mind for an answer to why the lights shut off.

Somewhere old rivals laughed in a room full of beers, pretzels, and outsiders, celebrating the fall of the champion. His mother cried in worry, as men aimlessly roaming Vegas celebrated their big come-up. Every gasp of disbelief coupled an “I knew it” from self-proclaimed prophets of luck and oddsmakers of silence. People who never took a punch struck up the type-writers across every major city, describing how bad his technique was, how he had no foot-work, how he never really fought a tough opponent, how he was too old.

The champ cried, uncontrollably, as tears seared into open wounds and beaded sweat. He knew what was being said, and he had nobody else to blame. There were no teammates to pick him up, nobody else to scathe, no coach making decisions, no pit crew to fix him. The humiliation was his to own, him alone. The loneliest man in the building sat on top of the world two hours prior, and held no pride of himself. He felt the world looking at him, turning on him, doubting him. He clenched his fists, slowly cycling through a swooping rhythm with taped hands, bobbing and weaving the unknown challenger.

On A Cigarette Break

In this moment everything makes sense, and ye abandon all that ye been trained by mankind.

The birds have returned! they glide over a man hanging off the end of a cigarette- butt, in hopes it will ground him. They watch over the humming whisper of the highway, screaming and yelping for attention, for any passing drunkard or child to admire their flight.

An Oak tree drapes over the cigarette, breathing in and spitting out it's toxins so effortlessly, as it's voice taps on the smoker's shoulder.

"POP POP POP" a Woodpecker hides beneath the branches and depths of perception, as the awakened smoker hunts for a glimpse of where it barks unspoken orders. Cars and noises from daily planners are brushed away by winds, faint jingles of wind chimes in the distance direct his ears to direct his sight, but the Woodpecker's strikes end abruptly.

"POP POP POP" another taunt vibrates from the glory of the Oak, this time capturing attention from every hair on the smoker, every pore. He has found the Woodpecker, but the sky steals the sturdy bird's moment, as if the bird and tree only wanted to point his direction upward, to witness the power and perfection of God's work.

The smoker's memory struggles to find the last time he simply stopped, and surveyed the blue canvas above for more than a quick moment. Clouds hid above others not chosen for the moment. Distant winds gain momentum, pushing away all thought as the moment seized the individual. His phone vibrates, shaking his loose and empty pocket, careless of outside judgment, he keeps staring above.

A plane glides through the clear sky, as his phone continues to vibrate, it is mankind's world, collapsing on the individual, trying to point him back down, to the reality of finance and work, the glory of engineering and technology, telling him to respect the progress of mankind's struggle through the thick wilderness of nature, telling him to come back, telling him he has spent too much time looking above, telling him to fear above and return to safety and predictability.

The Woodpecker rests silently and steadily on the branch, though challenged by metals and industry, by the moving of dirt and the rational of modernity.

As the bird arrogantly puffs its chest in perceived victory, the individual smiles, basking in the comfort of life, and reflecting on all the petty attempts to steal worship deserved. He is fearless of the day, his internal struggle evaporates as external pressure looks infantile and silly. In this moment, he is free, and grateful for the Oak's doctrine, as the world hangs off it's course, unscathed limbs.

The birds celebrate and dance in space unattainable by the individual,as he ponders if they screamed for attention, or only belted joy and celebration, reveling in their own freedom without care of judgement.

Memo: The World Ended on Saturday

For the sake of baseless hoopla last week, the world was entranced by another apocalyptic prediction, by a man who touts no more special powers than being elderly and fatalistic in his views of the Bible. May 21st, 2011, the world ended, just as it did on January 1st, and just like it will December-twenty-somethingth 2012.

That will be the third publicized hocus-pocus brewed through the popular believes of those who really have nothing else to look forward to besides total global destruction, the unleashing of Hell on Earth, and mass disease, death, and suffering. Who wouldn't be psyched? Society is the most bass-akwards it has ever been, when people get off to the idea of human extinction. I've read the books, and not just the Christian ones, and few times do I see Jesus, God, Allah, Zeus, any of them celebrate the demise of people like people do. Most of the time History and fable alike show us the repeating theme of, "I am my worst enemy". Man is both a suicidal and homicidal maniac, Hell bent on creating fear and raising tension, perhaps that is why there is a tick in the public pulse to pray for the end in this generation. Maybe people just want to be put out of their misery.

There is no reward for being cowardly or submissive in this world or the next. I've never seen those who beg for pity rise to any occasion, it isn't in nature or God's code, and I've been paying attention.

If you believe in God simply because you want to be special, don't even kneel. If you think going to church once a week and listening to another human tell you about God, then wake up every day and go on about the rest of your life in routine fashion, you missed the point. Don't tell me about the destructive force of God, or his hateful inferno that will burn "faggots" or sear the insides of those living in sin. Save your breath, you missed the point. Take the hate, the sense of superiority, the feelings of destruction and turn them on yourself, because you aren't making the world a better place, a realistic place, or a place worthy of any holy entity's surveillance.

We are now a people of lazy patience, waiting for something greater than us to arrive, ignoring the wrong before us in our daily lives, taunting the forces of nature, tempting the fate we don't even take time to analyze.

I don't go to church, and I can't claim to have ever read the Bible in it's entirety, but I do believe salvation lies within, take it how you will, just feel free to keep it between yourself and God. Instead of living in the shadow of doom, masturbating at the prospect of widespread death throughout the world, make yourself useful enough to at least add a shred of positive energy into existence. "Live every day like it's your last, learn every day as if you will live forever" It's powerful sentences like these that drive the human spirit and inject us with a sense of wonder about the things hanging above, don't celebrate the prospect of a death a majority fear too much to confront, and there for live irrationally.

Every time an end of the world scenario heats up, I don't look forward to a bloodbath, I reflect on my life and self, then wonder what I could do better, what I would regret never doing, and that usually makes the next day a lot more meaningful, especially when it's still there. I don't fear the end, I don't celebrate the end, I simply celebrate now and know every moment that passes before me ends forever.

Ding Dong Osama's Dead, the Wicked Prince, the Wicked Prince

Half way through the depths of a lager, after a long night of work, I learned American troops slaughtered the Boogeyman, Osama Bin Laden, the first person in History to be in the eye of a technological global manhunt. My intense glare gratefully looked at the glistening beer before me, the only thing in that moment that seemed to matter.

"Obama just won re-election" Is the first thought that hit me.

I didn't rush home to gawk at the T.V. or excitedly ask the bartender to pour my nationalistic side a celebratory shot of whiskey. I already knew the images and words our media would submerge the public in. The moment seemed surreal through the scrolling words of a newsline beneath the Red Sox game, and I can honestly say I didn't care emotionally, no tears or smiles...I felt nothing. When I arrived home to force myself to the television, I was just in time to witness the empty soul of our modern fuhrer, President Obama, taking credit for the action, and delivering one of the most important speeches of our time with the same emotionless face that stretched across my guise. Obama's words, "The War on Terrorism is far from over" rattled through the cracks of my brain. To me this was stating the obvious, as the manhunt for Osama has deviated to wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, instability in Egypt, Bahrain, and bombings in Libya, soon to see the soil of Syria. I saw a War on Terror become a dissolution of guaranteed rights like freedom of speech, press, and assembly, I saw the war turn home as American citizens are treated like terrorists every day, groped by the TSA and herded through the x-rays of advanced screenings.

Visions of brutal police pummeled unmarked vans filled with government agents and headphones, scrolling slowly through green neighborhoods. I saw WTO protestors in Pittsburgh maced, beaten, and deafened, as the quiet screams of a man plummeting from the upper levels of the World Trade Center plunged into gangs of depressed stockholders frantically selling off shares to compensate for loss. One thousand tickets in their hands transformed to political signs reading "Obama/Biden" as a wonder-struck fifteen year old walked into Geometry on a fateful day and saw America as he knew it die in a brisk September.

I watched in shock as thousands of whites in D.C. suddenly all appeared at once to celebrate, simultaneously with drunken puppets in Manhattan and Boston. Citizens cheered and ran with flags around the streets in a more "civilized" manner than the cavemen of Pakistan and Palestine who cheered the day the towers fell, overcome by their thirst for blood and joy in death. I reflected on the thousands of innocent men women and children who died on September 11th, the innocent casualties and children carpet bombed in Iraq, the American soldiers who gave their lives fighting a war that only seemed to grow over time without any clear objective. I thought about the onslaught of laws and regulations that came home, the general fear people began to have of their neighbors, and the cold stares of those in burkas who patiently waited to be flogged in the streets. The world will never be the same, Osama is dead, and so is our dream.

I question everything, especially when the "conservative" network FOX boasts the victory for Obama, and the body of our tormentor was immediately cast into the sea without thorough evaluation. The most important corpse in the world caused people to jubilantly cheer and scream without any contemplation of it's significance, and vanished into a watery abyss before speculation, in line with Islamic tradition, because in War, God knows, one must respect the fallen, even the body of a murderer, whom we raked the Earth for a decade to find. I believe the term is "catch and release". I always catch my biggest fish when I don't bring them home.

So relax America, the boogeyman is dead, though you forgot about him over the years, as the beginning of something more sinister festers inside our nation. Worship your leader, because his campaign is rolling and he needs your votes. Celebrate a man who was incapable of worldly expression as he walked into his defining moment. I saw the face of a man who expected the outcome, I saw the face of a man dancing in arrogant victory, who cared more about the delivery of his words than the significance of the day.

The sweeping War on Terror is in fact far from over, but now it needs a new face, and as others jubilantly dance like fools in the streets, I sit and wonder who the next boogeyman will be, and when he will strike. The lust for power inside the core of man has not dwindled, and now we have a man sitting on top of the world, with a feeling of invincibility, and a haunting stare that causes me to tremble.

An Open Letter to the Next Doomed Generation

President Obama will be giving his State of the Union Address shortly, and this young writer has decided it's time to knock some dust off the type-writer. It was around this time two years ago I watched as the first African American president was inaugurated into the White House. It was an exciting time, one which promised change from the eight year reign of George W. Bush, a man driven into the Oval Office by his own religious convictions, and decades of political rule by oil-soaked relatives.

What I've seen since isn't a change from the corrupt corporate politics of the past, but instead, a crash course with the reality of what our country is becoming, a watered-down promise that has only faded alongside whispers of potential from a rich history. There are unsettling feelings about the future, but what do you expect from someone born at the turn of a century, speculated as a doomed generation, susceptible only to televisions and the promise of Armageddon.

I confronted my own death and the prospect of an afterlife some time ago, and it was a period of mental growth, as opposed to the destruction easily handed out in pill-form to countless other searching souls. Though I came out of the experience a deeper being, I found myself spat out into the core of a society riddled with fateful gloom. Facing my own death was nothing compared to the difficult task of witnessing what I perceive as the death of Democracy and individual freedom...quite possibly the death of the American civilization.

While reading through my copies of "Ken Magazine", a publication from the late thirties, I've learned political banter hasn't changed much over time, though we have had ages to learn and grow. The disheartening sense comes from the faint pulse of the average American citizen. I am surrounded by an attitude that everything worth happening has already occurred, and the progress of humanity has hit a wall, only to be replaced by the very real phenomena of a transformation into something more sinister, where every thing and person has a number attached to it, with little gripes from the faces of those who were born for something greater.

I've always been searching for that something, though the feeling has no name or distinction. I haven't found it in love or violence, two factors that seem to elucidate this reality. It wasn't found in my own writing, or my time spent working on campaigns in New York. The prominent title and feeling of self-importance only took me so far, and Obama has only further proven this feeling cannot be subsided by empty promises of sweeping reform.

While African Americans celebrated the accomplishment of having representation of their culture in the White House, I found this too is a farce, I still have yet to see a President or any politician for that matter that represents "me" or anyone who has ever grown through struggle. Sure, every slick suit-and-tie attributes their success to generations of poor immigrants and broken households, but all I see are a select few with millions or billions in the bank, and a keen sense of self-importance I myself found somewhat repulsive. I do not see Obama's grandfather losing his house of forty years, I do not see Obama as a broken man who's aspiring only to be a writer (a promise of more poverty to come), nor do I see his children being sent to foreign lands with the promise of coming out a man, only to find folded flags and unquestioned nationalism pushed by unfamiliar talking heads. I see instead, a generation of soldiers being used for political rhetoric they will never quite understand.

It is a time where calling an economy and government controlled by outsourcing billionaires "fascist" makes you a communist, and to denounce communist ideologies such as government run healthcare and education only makes you a right-wing lunatic with poor education. As major banks receive bailouts to uphold public consumer debt while taking money from tax dollars of the indebted, I continue to type, though I cannot find or hear my own voice in a time where any passionate words basted in honesty fall on deaf or severed ears. I am to the masses and two-party system, someone who doesn't "get it", though I have studied American political History in my free time since second grade, and received a degree in the realm of both politics and history, only to work in what I'm convinced, is the most corrupt political party in the country, the New York City Democratic Party.

Maybe I will "get it" when Obama lies with a cocky grin to those who put so much faith into his words, or perhaps when he tells a truly divided nation, "our union is strong". Perhaps it will take more time for me to "get it", like when the Department of Homeland Security dwarfs every other government bureaucracy in size, and turns it's iron sights on any opinionated youth looking to make real change through an assumed 1st amendment right. The red flag has been raised, it is used to hang those on stand-by, who hope without action for a brighter future. The signs are here, the beginning stages of this presidency are eerily similar to the technological and scientific totalitarian leaders of the past. I am watching tearful Democrats cheer on what I see as a reincarnate to Stalin's "Great Purge", or Hitler's psychosis of the youth.

This is not all directed solely towards Obama, the most arrogant and engineered politician I have ever seen, but instead to a land where political ideologies have shareholders and sub-prime loans. Mussolini, a rather infamous fascist once said, "Fascism should be called corporatism, because it is a merger of the state and corporate interests". I'll take his word for it, then apply that to a place where failed companies are bolstered by the government, and billion dollar industries betray the soil they were nursed upon by sending jobs overseas, so 3rd world peoples can be exploited for a nickle a week. Nike sells pairs of shoes for over a hundred-dollars, pays less than a dollar to make the product, then turn around and gives hundreds of millions to Lebron James, a millionaire already from his profession, and a God among those with no interest in reality, who wish they could play the game of basketball only half as well.

As sponsors like Lebron win titles and royalties, the rest of us lose both our dignity and morality, this coming from a young binge-drinker who hasn't seen the inside of a church in years, and even then only attended on the strings of a girl who confused his moral structure.

The newspaper is dying, only to be replaced by corporate media websites, stocked with stories of celebrities, brought to you by Advil. The book reading public has died off, replaced only by the teenage sagas of werewolves and vampires, with the literary richness of condom instructions. For this aspiring writer who feels a desperate need to be heard, it is not a happy prospect. I don't care for fame or money or notoriety, but only pray that I can put my thoughts on the table, as I believe unlike so many others, I have the intent of enriching the national conversation and helping people understand why they are so fucked. Not fucked in the literal sense, as this natural occurrence needs no explanation, but fucked in a strangling sense, like when a Boa fucks the curious and completely unaware mouse which was raised only to be eaten alive.

I see oil-prices sky-rocketing and causing a chain reaction throughout the economy, I see "For Sale" signs becoming more prominent than mailboxes in front yards, and youth who live for a fix, or self-inflicted pain from tattoos and piercings, At least when they get this "work done" they are inflicting the pain on themselves... perhaps it is the last shred of control our children feel they have in this world. While the dollar falls, and our legislators spew tax-dollars overseas, countries arm themselves and hide agendas behind the desks of diplomatic spies. Everything is a lie, from global policies to the neighbor's marriage, and the lepers of America would rather wear make-up than treat their illness.

So I look forward to Obama's upcoming speech, where he will tell a neurotic land to lay down it's right to bear arms, because another lone lunatic in Loughner has affected a whole nation. I look forward to hearing Obama push Internet censorship because sharp critiques of global fascism have brought the truth closer to home than ever before. I look forward to the other pertinent issues he will discuss, only adding fuel to the domestic fire. These men have perfected the art of divide and conquer politics, Bush and Obama have both turned our aggression so inward between political lines, that the shady deals and deceitful words they harbor go unnoticed by most, whom are too busy clubbing each other to death.

At least one is safe to assume the freedom of opinion on his type-writer from the 1970's, before IBM began monitoring web activity, and Alltel turned private conversations into information buffets for intelligence agencies around the world. At least for now, one is safe to assume thoughts and ideas still have a glimmer of hope against the dehumanizing technocrats who wish to transform man into a Godless beast of burden, so empty beards can spread ripples across the seven seas on million dollar yachts, joking of the bastardization of mankind they created, as if the world is nothing more than a game of chess among "civilized" gentlemen.

Pay Attention, You're Tripping Balls Right Now

I don't remember the first time I took acid, I guess that's the mind fuck of the whole thing.

The strangest thing about acid isn't when you eat it, but long after, when you think to yourself "what the Hell was that all about?"

In the midst of what strikes the brain as psychotic illusions, the mind feels satisfied and all knowing...even if you are laughing uncontrollably for what seems like weeks. The laughter and visual obsession with the weird distracts the brain from thinking to itself, "Christ, this is weird". Even if Christ did agree with you, he would only be adding to the problem by speaking up.

I never had a major gripe with LSD, but it's always important to keep an arm's length distance. A week long bender could quickly turn into decades being the strange old man on the bicycle. "Poor bastard" They'll say, "I wonder if he even remembers anything."

Colors never look the same again, but they don't hurt the eyes so much. Sometimes to smooth over the intense buzzing, you have to ignore flashes and the constantly changing spectrum, and actually think to yourself, "Is this real?". As always, a cigarette is necessary for this debate.

"Kill the bastards! I'm just kidding, none of this matters...Holy Shit, I'm hungry. Did they just hear me? Am I talking out loud? OHHH I'm in trouble."

It's best to have friends you trust the most around during an intense dive into psychedelics; you never know if you'll come out the same, and there's always a good chance you'll come down, not liking the person you just tripped with. If someone likes you less because of your actions on acid, screw em'.

It's been a while since I climbed out of the rabbit hole, and in hindsight, it was an interesting ride...not the kind to write home about, not the kind to hold proudly, but definitely the kind of ride to remember fondly. If anything, it's a ride that reminds us what it's like to know the thrill of feeling young at heart.

I'm not younger, I took the trip and it was fun for a while, but I won't ever feel a want or need to return, I paid enough attention the first time around to get what I needed from it. Not to mention, the embarrassment of reminiscing on fogged and unreasonable reason is never enjoyable. Nobody is comfortable looking back at themselves and realizing a dose made them slightly insane. "Man I had some crazy thoughts jumping around last night, that was trippy."

I could take a dose everyday, but it wouldn't get me anywhere, it would just keep me in awe of a forever spinning cycle that self-explains itself through reputation alone. Not a good daily routine for the eager mind. No, the eager mind pursues truth through the path of reality, and the truth is, sometimes drugs help you escape faster.

A word of advice, at some point, wander off the path, you might even like it in the grass. Just keep in mind the natural curiosity to move forward and look ahead.

The Rebel Within

Take a look at the big picture, be aware of the world around you, this is how we learn and grow as people. Be weary of loaded words, things are more complex than definition. Trust is reserved for family and friends, anyone else has an angle or agenda, and it's not always good. Every person makes a difference, your actions and relationships change and effect others. Start a revolution in your mind, be critical of yourself, how do you spend your time? What are you feeding your mind? Have you abandoned nature and true reality?

As you effect things, outside influence and events effect you. When we go to war it is family members, neighbors and friends putting their lives on the line. When taxes and expenses are passed down it is your hard work the government skims from, it's 25% of your livelihood. When media is suppressed your mind is robbed, when bailouts happen you are robbed. These things do effect you, they effect you every day. The writing is on the wall, History has brought us here, History reveals our mistakes and taunts us when they are repeated.

Start a revolution in your mind, because it does matter, you matter. Everything that has been created outside of nature was first an idea, a flash across the mind of a person just like you. We are the shepards of our own lives, our own realities. Picture the world you want to live in, think how we can get there. Look at the past, look at the present, where are we moving as a country, as a society, as a human race? Time slips through our fingers and brings us abruptly to the future, know it, experience it, change it for the better, because time will never cease.

We are on the edge of History, we are the generation bringing in a new millennium, technology is advancing faster than ever before. Question authority, question Science, questions technologies. Are we using them to benefit ourselves or dehumanize ourselves? Are we creating things that will push us forward or repress us in self-loathing and lethargy? It's through scrutiny that we learn truths and perfect our creations. Don't trust the word of someone you don't know on the picture box, investigate for yourself, there are agendas out there that do not care about your best interest or your family. Pat attention.

People can be simplistic, they hold onto fear, and have a tendency to be uncomfortable with anything different from the status quo. What if the status-quo is wrong? What then? As we get older we realize adults were wrong, we realize they are just as childish as we once were. They name-call to advance in an argument without sound reason, they sacrifice others for their own benefit, they hoard and lie. These are human imperfections, and every day we each battle them, every day we are given the opportunity to choose what we do, how we react, and what kind of person we want to be, these opportunities are ageless.

We are fragile yet powerful, through our advances as people we become immortal, but we all perish. Know you will someday die. Every day leading up to that end is yours, define yourself. Don't fear the inevitable, don't let fear control or change you, be selfish with the time you are given, the clock is always ticking. People will always use this fear against you, this is the world we live in, this is our reality. Fear is used to change the world and the futures we envision, the world we have always hoped to forge is twisted with every decision made in the shadow of fear. The government says it will protect you, but nothing can protect you from the ultimate end. In that end will you look back in regret? Will you be proud of standing up for yourself and your convictions, or will you reflect back on the wasted years of cowardly submission?

In History we see every government abuse it's power, strangle it's citizens and conduct unjust wars. It's very real, thousands of people die every day without you noticing, women and children are slaughtered. Do you care? Foreign lands aren't alien planets, they are filled with people just like you, imagine the terror, the pains of these people, and how lucky you were to not see these horrors. Don't take that for granted, because it can happen to you. Be grateful, not afraid. No government in History has ever deserved unwavering trust, every government grows and represses with growth. You are not your government, government is never to be feared or trusted, it's through fear and trust that government has executed the most horrific crimes against humanity.

Reality television, advertisements, cars and "things", they are all distractions. They distract you from the questions you should be asking. "Why am I here?" "What is life's purpose?" "What happens when I die?" "What is right?" These are the questions we are here to ask, these questions are complex, we are given a lifetime to figure them out. You are born and die naked, alone, with no car or home or bank account. What happens in between those two days is what you gain in life, it is what you do with that time that empowers and fulfills you. Never let someone else answer these questions for you.

This isn't a game, this isn't a talking point, it's your life. What will you do with it? Are you paying attention and looking to the future, or doing what your told, wasting away the years before your ultimate fate? Live, love, learn, and laugh, ask questions, stand up for yourself, be someone you can be proud of, be aware.