Ocean Size

I have always only been able to read a little at a time. I want hit hard, upfront, to get free. I work all day building or repairing or maintaining or purchasing that I go dry on the flow of words and days pass where day and night turn on

Done Not Knowing

POTH STORY: a mother is dying. She is becoming delirious. As she nears death, she stares at her son, who she does not really recognize. She asks him who he is. He finds himself telling her that he is an angel sent to help her. He makes up a bunch

Sucker MCs

Yuh know.

Capitalization Wrap

STORY: A man trying to finance his rental house is told my his wife that he mishandled the process because the loan officer has not responded to any of his messages. She proceeds to insult him. But he knows that the loan officer knows that there is nothing to talk

Eden Sade

The conversation proceeded over the soundbooth desk. "I do not think it is a surprise, not at all, to find that, now that they can, companies are firing black women. It would appear that bigotry will never find a day it can rest. We have seen a decline in

Call it The New Sincerity

All we have left is distilling humanity. Analytical prose and phrases cut ideals; they are meant to be Kantian pure (we now have AI). Poetry cannot be computed; it will not be assimilated. Speak from the heart and avoid cliches. Call it The New Sincerity. Becoming human is all we

A Kingdom of Ends

Something down past the turnoff, crouching, eyeballing us, letting us know it is watching. Or so it woud seem. Kant warns us against believing in the watcher. Do good from duty, not because you suspect being watched—make goodness out of duty to each other. We are not being watched;

Can You Have Tragedy with a Center?

It seems to be perfectly reasonable that Gods who act worse than humans are not Gods. And when there are no Gods, there is atheism. It can only be that Greek tragedy hit as tragic due to there being no Gods capable of salvation. It would make you think that

Rough Beast: an Autobiography

This is a story about a divorce. As much as I hate to admit it, nothing save the death of a child could rise above it as a monument to my life, a sociopath, who told me later her name was Diomayra. It has been fifteen years since she left.

I Am a Continental Philosopher.

I have spent the first fifty years of my life on safari for meaning. I went everywhere I could. I hunted anything that appeared important to me. By going from one point to another in my thinking, I was constantly taking massive hits to my psychological integrity–consantly decentering, trying

The Future of Education

The purposeful model of education is changing. It was once a punitive one where the student prepared (studied) and then performed (took a test). Out of 100 students in a class, x amount could both prepare and perform, y could prepare but not perform, z could not prepare but could

There can be no more victims

because pity must die. Victimhood removes agency. And it may be neoliberal ideal, but we must take responsibility for every aspect of our lives. All humans are liars. Their worst offenses are their best defenses: the lies they tell themselves that maintain their position as a good person. Caught in

Literary Criticism

DR Congo—Heart of the World Cup

Clicking around YouTube tonight I ran into footage of DR Congo football fans dancing on the patios outside their Atlanta hotels, having watched their team beat Uzbekistan today. They were fun and lively, good-natured guys, enjoying themselves fully. And seeing the word "Congo" on their fanwear, it

Philosophy

Freedom Exists

Freedom exists because Being exists. Being is Freedom. Being exists before language. Language is a state of unfreedom. It is also a maze that you can pass through. Do the work and watch it happen. Passing through means recognizing the maze as a maze and arriving back at Being. You

Palm-Of-The-Hand

Risky Business, Hatteras Village

On the car ride home he asks a question to establish his position: "How about you cook since I bought everything?" he says to his mother, who has been travelling along with him and Willow. "Sounds like a plan," his mother replies. "Wait. Why does

Literary Criticism

Coetzee/Nabokov & Shakespeare

Now the thrill, of engaging with Humbert's "remorse" for stealing a childhood—cruelty satisfied by proxy—can barely be enjoyed. Too much is happening. It has been happening for too long. And most of us, especially those who have the sensibility for reading, are exhausted. Yet