My wife and I don’t know how we’ll make it month to month
We work full time, pay our bills, scavenge every penny
Yet debts add up, stacking crap on top of bullshit mountain
An American dream of shitty insurance and a million ways
To die a victim of late-stage capitalism gone amuck
Everyone has two full years of income already owed
A one percent sucking the marrow from our bones
Fearing the masses wake from media-induced comas
Devour the rich whole, it’s the only thing they’re good for
We have the numbers, burn them alive in their fancy homes
6.19.19
It shouldn’t be
this difficult
to rent a house
When we’ve been at one place
three years
never missed a payment
we dealt with
broken heaters in freezing winters
rodent roommates living rent free
and spending thousands
of our own dollars
fixing a pool
that we’re giving up this summer
It’s the same management company
That’s the ironic part.
They know all this!
Just a different, newer,
bigger house
Two guys, good incomes,
take care of things
No, some bullshit about
reapplying and
We find that my
other-mother’s-brother’s
Evil ex-girlfriend took out a lease
in his name
Three years ago and
skipped eight months rent
and the ten grand
she stole from his parents
the 18,000 she spent
using my brother’s identity
to buy plastic butt surgery
so now we’re waiting
he had to pay 3,500
to pay it off and it’s just
one of those
holding my breath
waiting to see
if we will be homeless in 12 days
because I honestly don’t know
what to do next
summer isn’t supposed
to be this stressful
but then
for perspective
that’s real
white privilege kind of shit
to say and think
when the oceans are on the brink
of deoxidizing
killing all the fish
while Iran gets
prodded by the apparent
dumb AntiChrist into
World War III
so he can avoid
an election
and likely prison time
in the end
we’re clearly all
gonna die
but clearly my inability
to find affordable housing
in Atlanta
with a full-time salary and
stable roommates is clearly
a better spiral so
let’s stay focused
shall we
or shall I say
distracted while we
write and read out loud some
shitty sci-fi novel we’re writing
just to avoid dealing with
the questions
in our lives
hoping that
maybe it’ll hit it big
and
then you can just
throw money at the problems
until they go away
but that never happens
now does it
sure would be nice
to find out though
right
6.14.19
It might be dumb but I’ll try it
A big lie but today I’ll buy it
Conversing about big risks
Versus big rewards if
She stays and stays true
So I’ll watch the time go by
And wait an hour for you on
a June summer afternoon
Everything is a system, work it to your advantage
4.30.19
You cry out for me in your dreams sometimes
Looking for meaning in a hopeless moment
Stuck in a past day, the worst possible way
You don’t wake, but I tell you it’ll be okay
Don’t beat us at our own game, change the rules.
Tell me we’ll be okay and I’ll believe
Whisper in my ear and I’ll breathe
Stand up to assholes, don’t become one.
3.11.19 - Blog post
I will gladly be the first to admit using writing as a coping mechanism. If anxiety gets to me, typically about bigger-picture problems or things outside my locust of control, I’ll pull up a draft of what I’m working on, in order to keep from spiraling. I also use the gym daily for the same purpose. Ever since a stressful event snapped me out of the past thirty-five years, I needed some way to finally take care of myself. So I started working out weekdays for free after work. Six months later I bought a gym membership (for the third time in a decade). But, somehow, unlike the other failed attempts, I’ve stuck with it now for over a year, averaging six days a week.
I’m still far from my goals, and they grow every day. When I started, I wanted to not feel fat and not have a gut that hung over my belt. Bu the change has been more than just physical. I care about myself more. I’m calmer, a bit more humble and confidant at the same time. I’m also far less self-destructive, can’t afford the down time and ache in the muscles. Maybe it’s more of a hermit life, but at least I have goals I can work towards again.
Little bit of pride there.
Under 119,000 words, which is great. Every little bit I can chip away makes the narrative clearer. Keep chipping, keep chopping. Whether it’s words or weight, just keep chopping at it. Soon that tree will fall and you’ll find yourself in a wonderful new forest.
Because, sometimes, don’t we need to get a little lost in the woods?
Maybe Robert Frost had it right and wrong on that snowy evening.