Melancholy & Missing Lighters

  I've been procrastinating. Not only in writing this post, but also in reflecting. This past August tenth marked one year since Brutter's death. I remember going to sleep that night wondering if my body somehow would relive the event. Waking up suddenly just as the sky was beginning to light up. The burst of adrenaline sending me to my feet running. The denial. The confusion. The desperation. The grief. Sending shockwaves through every part of my body. However, I woke up with ease just as every morning. It was around the same time, though, maybe a little later. At the time, we were in a patch of woods near Buffalo, New York. It was one of the first places I'd taken Brutter when she'd hopped her first few trains. It had been spring at that time. The may apples had just started popping up. The trees were still bare. I can recall her eagerness to explore the woods. Her nose constantly upturned, drinking in the new scents. Her tiny form scurrying up fallen trees. Her tail...

How easy it is to kill, So simple to destroy- The Earth, The Water, The hearts of humankind. How easy it is to hurt, So simple to break- The hope, The trust, The bond between you and I. Yet you care not For any plea Nor heartfelt cry, Not without an attached Bargain and dollar sign. The people's pain Fuels your greed, Our isolation Leaves you satisfied And waiting for us to die. Will the earth be yours then? Will you know true love then? Will peace never leave you then? When there is no more to spend.

Shiverin' spring blues thaw into summer gold, You're too far gone for me to ever hold, But never will I ever forget the day When I left goldenrod on your grave.   And if I could pray for anything at all, I'd pray I can join you when summer turns to fall.

 I despise trains. I've said it before, I've said it again, I'll never stop saying it. I am heading west, for maybe a job. Maybe we'll get there in time or maybe not. Maybe the organizers will have an issue with us. It'll be us and us alone. Maybe we'll encounter a fellow worker from this life. I do not know. But we are running late and these trains are running me up a wall.  I do not enjoy the anxiety this all entails. But what else is there? Where else is there to truly go? I feel so empy and aimless. I lack any will to push forward. Only my partner's annoying pressing keeps me going. How he has the strength to keep positive or at least the strength to keep going when there is no hope left is beyond me. Maybe I am too privileged. Maybe depression and lack of motivation is a privilege. Maybe having someone to force me to get up when I have resigned myself to simply rot is a privilege. How lucky am I to have people who care about me enough that I can't s...

 Who is my audience? That, I do not know. Who is my audience? What have I to show? Who is my audience? Who am I trying to reach? Who is my audience? Have I any words to teach? Who is my audience? Could it be the people I've met, or the ones I've not known yet? Who is my audience? Are my words for change, or for those with their minds all set? To whom am I writing for? And would they ask for more? Can not it be I for whom I sing, dance, and write?

(Source) Light the smudge, breathe deep, from this sacred tobacco, cedar, sweeatgrass, and sage, burn all jealousy and hatred from this earth. O sacred smoke, make the world and us whole again; we women, this is what we do: sew and smudge, make the ugly beautiful.  --" Mending the Violence of Men " aria, Li Keur: Riel's Heart of the North, by S.M. Steele Extracted from: Porter, Michelle. A Grandmother Begins the Story. Chapel Hill, Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2023.

Apparently, The Israeli Foreign Ministry is reducing the Freedom Flotilla Coalition's Madleen to nothing more than a publicity stunt. I'm not delving into the whole interception and kidnapping for this. There are plenty of articles discussing it. I'll link some of them at the end if you need to be caught up. But we already know that yes, Thunberg being a part of the Madleen's voyage was likely intended to garner more media attention. If you're just now hearing about the Freedom Flotilla Coalition, they are not something new. They were formed in 2010 in order to continue the work of the Free Gaza Movement which had been sending ships of humanitarian aide since 2008. Around the first five missions, all in 2008, had been successful. But then December of 2008, Israel began interfering with these missions. Ten missions, including the Madleen, have been unsuccessful due to being attacked, intercepted, or threatened with attack. The attack on the Mavi Marmara in 2010 is ...

  "I'm leaving this country." As a so-called American, that's a statement I've often heard growing up and hear even more now in light of the recent political climate. I myself had grown up wishing to move to a different country. I fantasized about faraway lands cloaked in mist and mystery to me. Maybe somewhere in Europe. Maybe the British Isles. Maybe Russia. But for the entirety of my teenage existence, my heart had been set on South Korea. I studied hard, planning on applying to a Korean University. I continued to study, even after I dropped out of highschool. I continued to study, even as I failed multiple job interviews and realized it would take years of tirelessly working to maybe meet the required minimum of $15,000 in my bank account. I continued to study, even when I ran away from home and started living on the streets. I haven't studied since a traumatic incident last August. But even before then, I was slowly moving my attention towards o...

I'm riding on a train from Pittsburgh to Chicago Feeling as empty as this unloaded cargo, I am miles away and I know that it's true, But I'm still stuck on Superior's shore with you. I'm down Alabama fighting off the cold Thinking back to the day I had to let you go, Even with you in the ground on that day I knew That I'd be stuck on Superior's shore with you. From Florida to Texas and all the other places Nowhere else does the earth hold your final traces Clueless people keep saying that I'll make it through But I'm still stuck on Superior's shore with you, Oh, I'm still stuck on Superior's shore with you.

I am tired. I hate how we were treated. I hate how we continue to be treated by police. I made an effort. I spoke about what happened, even though I want to forget about everything. I even made a GoFundMe for the body cam footage fees. But I'm tempted to just delete the fundraiser and forget about the footage. I just don't have the energy to do anymore. I don't want to promote the fundraiser or the video. I don't want to market myself like a product. I already do that when I stand on the side of the road holding a cardboard sign. The internet is where I can just fuck off. My videos, they're essentially just me talking to a wall. Even if my videos show up in somebody's feed, they typically pass it over. And truthfully? I'm okay with that. My main intention for my channel and this blog is to be able to leave behind recordings of myself for when I die. I just want to make some small mark that'll be there when I'm gone. I don't want to fight. I...

  Fultondale Public Library. This library was the first place I'd gone to with Brutter when I'd brought her out onto the road. We'd been charging our electronics out in the front. Just as we had done numerous times in the past. That time, however, the local cops told us to leave for no good reason. Nobody had even complained about us being there, they simply decided they didn't want us enjoying public state property that our tax dollars pay for. Brutter was perfect during that. I simply guided her to her carrier and she scurried in without a fuss. She was a travel cat from the start. She was so intelligent and picked up on things so quickly.   It's difficult being back in this area. Those memories of her pierce my heart. Even as I lay under a pavilion, keeping out of the rain in a park I'd never been to, I think of Brutter. I keep remembering the park pavilions I'd slept at with her. I keep noticing the lack of her presence. She should be here. I...

  For years, I have carried with me a memory from my childhood. I don't recall the exact situation, however, I believe I was expressing to my parents the frustration that I was feeling towards the hardships people were facing around the world. I think my parents had been sympathetic towards these feelings. But they only told me, "You can't carry the weight of the world."   For the most part, I would use their words to help myself turn off my emotions when faced with another's grief and even my own grief. Still, this hadn't quite sat well with me. I didn't want to experience the rage and the devastation I feel towards the many injustices of the world. Yet, I was fully aware that shutting my emotions down wouldn't fix anything. Shit, shutting down my emotions didn't even fix my own hardships.   When I was in jail, I heavily disassociated. That was because it was necessary for my survival. I couldn't let my emotions get in the way beca...