Little Beer; Chelita (for MAM)

Did you know?
- when we met, I didn't know who I was yet
      -I was fourteen, overweight, politically and spiritually confused
      now I'm 28, a skinny veggie hippy communist batt`ling anarchistic philosophies and sticking with atheism
      Did you know you helped me create that?
      That the entire scaffolding upon which I rest my consciousness would be boring, dry, ordinary, without precious conflict and constant growth, if I didn't date and fall in love with you at the exact right time in my growing years?

Did you know that I didn't know who Michael Moore was until your parents took me to see him speak at UOP?
      -did you know that I still think Green Day is better than blink but I always liked blink more than I ever admitted to you?
     -that I still have that backstage pass thing we got at the Twisted Christmas concert where we tried to sneak in to see Mark, Tom and Travis but didn't quite make it?

Did you know that I kept trying to get better at playing the guitar to impress you?
-that I took that silly drama class to impress you?
-that I kept trying to get better at writing to impress you?
- when we broke up, I lost weight and doubled down on all those things to impress you
      All of these things are so closely tied to my core personality that I can't tell for sure where I stop and you start

Did you know that it was you I felt safest sharing pain with?
     -and now that I need to talk to you about you not being here, the irony has me begging the stars for your voice
                 -that you may not have been my last love, but you sure were my first and most honest by a mile
        -that I loved kissing away your scrapes and bruises when you'd come to me, and that it never was a chore?

Did you know my bullshit intollerence comes from it being your least favorite of all smells?
   -that I'll always be punk rawk for you?
             -that I always hated doing your homework, but I knew it was worth it and that you'd find your way academically?
Did you know that you made me really proud?
      -that I hope I was maybe even just a small part of you as you are a huge part of me?

Did you know that now I know forever exists because I can still hear you laughing at the guy who called Brittney Spears a "dumb bitch" at Fahrenheit 9\11 or feel your scorn when I pick out a crappy song or approval when I kick ass in an argument?

Did you know? `cause I sure fucking hope so. I'll make sure to nourish these truths deep in my bones.
      The little pieces of me that live virtuously are inextricably linked to you, and honey, I'll always miss you
      I'll try not to, too much, because you always told me
      "Take care of yourself, Matthew"

And I can't apologize enough, darling, I meant to write you words that would intrinsically sing. Sounds that when spilled through lips tied to mouths reveal just how important you are to me.
      But you were my editor, and you were the best, so I'm trying to sort through this wreck of a mess on my own. Forgive these silly sentences spilling out of me for never being able to capture all of your beauty adequately.

broken keyboard; the letter 'i' vexes me, my stomach sings violently (here's cologne for your bullshit)

if mirrors could talk, i bet they would scream from narcissistic nightmares
and if songs were characters in a book,
i bet they'd be the most boring ones
because they repeat repeat repeat repeat themselves
bellowing bellicose nonsense until it seems like you've gone full circle
i never knew i never knew i never knew
that you didn't have to know what you wanted to say if you wanted to sing


 if poems are supposed to be harbingers of the truth
why are so many letters used
to obscure the hues
of the colors that paint
the lenses through which
the world is viewed?

so take this pen, shove it up your throat, follow the pathways through your nose
and jiggle all your brains loose
this ain't the fuckin' time to try to apologize for reality's abuse
y'all just love this game
don't you?

set opinions all askew, divide and conquer the myriad of minds that can't come to a conclusion

but one thing we can all agree smells the worst,
no matter where on this blue dirt ball you may roam
is the scent of unadulterated bullshit
without the proper cologne

FDR and Reagan shake hands

I remember a time when I used to be supremely proud of my country
now I'm just happy I wasn't born in Somalia or Bangladesh
And I know that'll sound jingoistic and narcissistic to a shitty degree
but I never expected to win any popularity contests

I thought FDR was a saint and Reagan a sinner
but reality has a different point of view
The nuanced approach is often times the winner
As they say, walkin' in other people's shoes

I don't know how many swear words to write
before I seem obscene, or how many rhymes
are permitted without seeming like I'm using a crutch
I'm starting to think the answer is not really giving a fuck
about specific truths to hold universally applicable
some people good and others totally despicable

And if reality and free will are really just a summation of any given moment at hand
we'll have to do our best to grapple our faults and strengths and try to understand
That we have to work against the things that blind us
and the only things that really matter
are compassion and kindness

Or maybe not, who knows, blanket statements really can be fucked with
but just maybe, maybe
we can bet on compassion and kindness

Taking Revenge Against California (at least the cities where exes reside)

I'm forced to quit pretending like I can fall back asleep at around six-thirty in the morning
 my mind is hellbent and strictly intent on retaining memories from the night before,
so I snag a flat beer that my fuck-buddy (one of many) left behind
the corner store ain't open yet and I don't feel like walking to the nearest gas station

I have a torn meniscus and fucked up ACL so I have a handy supply of vicodin
I pop two without thinking and wash it down with an adult soda that doesn't have bubbles anymore
God, I didn't love her at first, but that taste and smell is growing on me. I'm digging her more than myself these days.
I think.

Crack out a half-smoked bowl and polish that motherfucker off. This isn't a day to start off straight. It's an anniversary of sorts.

Grab a single crutch (I don't remember where I last  placed its partner, but I can make do)
strike out to the store, I'm almost outta' smokes and I'm not coughing enough yet
plus, they have cheap tall cans at eight percent
a dollar sixty out the door
nine dollars and sixty cents if you're generally like me
plus the cost of cancer and liver failure
but that'll be a decade off at the very least

I'll pretend as I hobble down the street that I'm just an unappreciated Bukowski or Thompson or a rockstar that just missed his chance
but we all know the fucking truth
I was just too fucking weak on my own
and when people finally got tired of my shit
and the pushing away that I never gave up finally took hold
and the blank notes hit the floor
I snuggled up in a blanket of chemical quick-fixes
and mental short-cuts
and told myself I was medicating until I was sick
walking on a broken knee to snag a few bottles and smokes

Before I get home I've finished two and chewed on a few more pills
it's almost time for the fun part, where I ignore texts while smoking hashish and drinking and chainsmoking until the phone stops buzzing
I guess I could put it on silent or stop paying the fucking bill
but inertia is funny sometimes

Inertia is funny sometimes

And I can blame this all away on heartbreak if I want
Slowly killing myself to get back at the people who were too dumb to understand the greatness that I am
But I've never been a fan of bullshit
I guess I'll just keep on going
Afraid of stopping the swimming
even if I can pump water into my own gills mechanically
because
Fuck

Inertia is funny sometimes.

je suis Charlie

though i know you were forged in the crucible of an unwelcome and hostile womb
i still refuse to sing your violent and terror driven tune
it's a bloody position i take, but i won't dance at a ball festooned
with heads on pikes and raped women on display

you can shove me in a cage and set me on fire
i'll still show you how muhammad was a motherfucking liar
when it comes to being a figurehead for peace
if my drawings bring you to a murderous rage
maybe you never truly believed in what you preach anyway
i'll die on my feet instead of living on my knees
je suis Charlie

now don't get me wrong, it's not a swath of humans living in a region that i'm condemning
it's the insecure fucksticks with 72 virgins on the mind that are apprehending
our ability to move past a status quo where life doesn't last
is as frail as glass
where death tolls and body counts don't even matter

picture a woman that has to get to a hospital before dying
she'll be put to death for the simple sin of driving
in hopes of finding some goddamned help
better to die if you're gay or you're raped
because if you are, it's too fucking late
you've cemented your place in hell

this isn't an 'us against them' fight
where either tribe ascribes virtue to their side
and denies the opposing's rights
this is a struggle against humanity's crimes
and a search for rationality, which is hard to find
it requires foresight

artists of the world, i think it's time we made a stand
we can rise to the threats of the depraved and
create a new perspective, in hope that some will understand
that questioning the very things that you hold true and dear
isn't something to fight against, it's not to be feared
instead, it's a strengthening force to be revered

we're all better off with this freeing thought, aren't we?
je suis Charlie

A Simple Call for Unconditional Kindness

Normally, I try to wax all artistic, but not today. I'm gonna' strip as much pretense as I can for such a sappy subject.
Now before I go on, I'd like to say, for the record, I'm not a hippy. Not that I have anything against them, but even my own mom can call me an asshole and mean it.
Anyway:

There are three names I can remember from grade school, aside from my best friend who I keep in contact with today.
But three names and faces alone stick out among every other face I went to school with every day for years.
You know how many people I've been inexcusably unkind to?
Three.
Coincidence?
Think again.
And trying to use my young age (I'm talking about grade school shenanigans here) as an excuse isn't holding water.
If I wasn't mature enough to know the implications, they sure as shit weren't old enough to understand why someone was being cruel, and certainly not capable of dealing with such hostility in a healthy way.

So maybe chew on that the next time you've got a decision to make. If it's in response to something that really gets under your skin, or has somehow hurt you, know that being unkind gets deeper under your skin and does way more damage to you in the long run.

Then again, don't expect perfection. Allow yourself a slip, a snap, because then you might have the courage to say you're sorry if it's not such a big deal. It will only not be a big deal, though, if you have a long track record of kindness, otherwise the people around you won't and shouldn't give you that kind of breathing room,
I wish I could go back in time and say sorry when it would have made a difference.

That's all. Nothing grandiose. Just be fuckin' nice, y'all. Sounds simple, couldn't be more complicated, if you were to be honest about the amount of happiness you inject into the world. It costs you absolutely nothing to tell someone they have nice hair or their outfit looks good or that you appreciate them or that they're funny or whatever. It can cost someone else everything with just one simple act of cruelty.
So hold yourself accountable, for real. No delusions, just kindness.

why Oregon Trail is bad for me

my best friend's mother was a teacher at the grade school i went to
this gave me access to her classroom-- and the holy grail-- videogames you'd normally have to line up for to have a turn to play during recreational periods ("freetime" they call it, coffee and cigarette break methinks now, in retrospect)
and man, we'd play weird ass games
like, you'd take photographs of dinosaurs. that was it. just, pictures of dinosaurs. and we'd compete like madmen trying to get... pictures of dinosaurs...
and then there was the good ol' Oregon Trail

i think every twenty something knows a few things by autonomic means. just say the word 'Goonies' and you'll tug a heart string or two on accident. Oregon Trail fits into this category, even if to a smaller degree.
so when i found it on the internet yesterday (a facebook friend linked it, so i guess *i* didn't find it, but whatevs), rendered in all it's former nostalgic glory, i let out a little squee that made me question my masculinity a bit.
...aaaaannnyyyway....
i sat down after dinner and my niece went to sleep thinking it would be a fun way to unwind
i couldn't have been more wrong

...see, in middle school, i hadn't really developed a sense of sympathy. i'd always pick a 'banker' as a profession (because fuck yeah, i'll take some more money, do you know how many rivers you have to cross?)
that wasn't an option, not with my current political beliefs. so i picked farmer, to be noble and shit, but those folks are generally economically trodden, so i had a whopping four hundred dollars to spend.
i'm already regretting this
off to buy supplies.
i can already see that i'm not going to be able to feed my family, and now guilt is kicking in.
i think it's important to mention that i might not be fully sober at the moment.
so i use my paltry paycheck to buy less than the pesky store manager is recommending i bring, and i can see that this is going to be a tough ride already, but whatever, we need'a get to Oregon!
'cause, you know, Manifest Destiny and shit. and indians. something about indians.

but bullets are cheap, so thank heavens for that. lots'a hunting is in my future, i see.
off we go... but it's gonna' be a slow road.
see, in fourth grade, as i mentioned, my brain wasn't all wired to it's most mature extent. sympathy and empathy are hard for people, so i guess it makes sense that it generally is the last to develop.

i used set that damned pace to 'grueling', set my rations to 'paltry' and i was happy even if i was the only one who made it out alive so long  as i got to do that fun little rafting section at the very end, where you guide your wagon down a river and all that noise.
but 26 year old matt doesn't roll like that anymore, i guess

every single notification about my children and wife wracked me with guilt. i'd rest for several days for things like a broken arm (which in Oregon Trail land is kind of like having a runny nose, considering how many goddamned times 'Bessie' got dysentery)
that's another thing, i started feeling guilty over the names i picked for my family.
my wife was Jessie
my kids were Bessie, Lessie and Messie.
i bet there was a better name fit the rhyming scheme but i was hasty, and i regretted my laziness later on with every notification i got.
then, the hunting

so, i let the ball drop a bit and wasn't paying attention to how many pounds per day of food we were eating, since i couldn't bring myself to let Bessie, Lessie and Messie eat a paltry meal. the rations were set to 'full', and hell or highwater, i was gonna' let 'em eat...
...or not...
so, we got to zero pounds of food, and i kind'a didn't notice. two whole days went by! (which in the game goes by in about five seconds)
then the hunting...
every other damned day!
every other damned day!
but i was so compelled to feed my family, i bypassed my veggie instincts and killed so many deer, bears and rabbits i might as well be Daniel Boone or somethin'.
never a bison, though, that's just fuckin' wrong. those suckers are like 850-1000 pounds, and you can only carry 100 pounds back. that's wasteful, man. and though they're the slower moving targets and the biggest by far (so they're easier to hit, which is useful 'cause moving around and shooting is hard as balls on this platform)
and you'd only need to hit one.
so deer and bears seemed the most morally and sustainable targets, but they're not that common and hard to hit, but whatevs, man, right is right, right?
right!
it's getting close to midnight now...
rivers, bandits, random misfortune, trading scenarios all keep playin' out
still scrambling
wish some of these fuckin' kids could help, but whatevs, i guess i should've worn a condom
fuckin' pope
by three o'clock my computer runs out of juice
it was my fault, i wasn't paying attention to the fact that she wasn't plugged in

...where did this family go? did they make it? did Bessie recover from her bad case of the measles?
i guess some things aren't meant to be known, and some are meant to just fucking stay in middle school
see: Doug, the cartoon. you might think it'd be great to re-watch as an adult, but you're wrong. very. very wrong. at least for the first season, my brain didn't have the stamina to make it further.
i think i'm gonna' play another round tonight. maybe i'll bump myself up to a carpenter though.
i say that, but i know i'm picking a farmer.