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Monthly Archives: January 2012

next chapter dear brother.

I write on occasion of your birth. A day I wasn’t around for but one which affected me though only on writing this can I really feel. It is a sorting of myself that brings me to analysis you. you who does not talk to me. You who has made worse the hours years we shared and with your denial of me. I am unloved by.
Nonacceptance is the greater harm than any years of the past for one is past , the other on going.
Dear brother;
You know I don’t dislike my life though your achievements the world would weigh more heavily then my own . I am not without my talents. but even as i write I don’t feel equal to you yet write to support myself and my independence from the lingering remorse i feel as your shadow of my life. Your ideals I do not share. Your work ethic , so embedded into you by our step father ,I have seen as a hindrance. Not that people should not work hard. but to work for self fulfillment can never be proven as worthy. I feel i have created things, a magazine, a band, my website, my consciousness, and my writings are all events well earned and not as linear as what your life would appreciate.
But yet sitting in the back of my car, the world of material gains would weigh me in different, those who weigh by money and possessions are really lost to true harmony. They give up peace for schedules and individual consciousness for group ignorance.
Even as I write this one yearly letter I come to see myself again and again as having the harmony enough to continue on the path of adaptation and self realization. while you Just what? bend over backward to hold on to your piece of the ever lessening stability of materialism. The group think of corporate controls. A group think that depends on subservience and forced subjection to emotionless designs.
I hear so little from you , except your wife sits alone while your work takes you across the lonely country.
I remember only the last hate filled words against a mother who fed you and a brother who’s life you have no right to enter. And yet I write you , not to you, but to the world about you, to free me.
for I don’t know if you will ever read this , I don’t know cause we don’t talk. Not after the last where you offer advice over a new frind. advice you shouldnt give because of the unfortunate absence you have been .
You will never see the one hundred and eighty five dollars i owe you. You will never see it because i am an artist and live from hand to mouth as they say. but you also will never get me to build you a house or hear me write a kind word to you, you have missed out on my love and as such there must have been many people you have missed out on and i pity you.
but I did talk to you four years ago, when your compliment another artist because you don’t understand my work or just didn’t give a shit to look at or listen to what i have spent years formulating.
While my sin against you are few , you tried to kill me once , chasing me with a knife, subjecting me to cruelties after the fourteen years of abuse had ended. and I still remember how you tested me and my loyalty when at the back of the car at seven or eight you stabbed me with a sharp pencil and i didn’t say a word. You were ,and are still, cruel, inhuman and emotionless. It is a quiet pain i have never really identified until now. even though the lead from the pencil is still a black dot in my thigh. I will always hold that against you, and i can see by your size you hold it against yourself.
You are spineless and afraid . You never came to realize the beauty of true creation and stick to a life of cruel linear emotionally devoid subservience. Just like when you were young, spineless, “Taught” and never self relevant. I always tired but at 46, I am done.
I write this and most everything i write is to free myself, because i need freedom. I need to feel a true sense of self forgiveness by not holding on.
I guess i forgave you everyday of those years, and one last time I forgive you with these words because you are just what you are. and personal advancement is a self achievement i need for me. It is the loves’s we have lived that we need to understand. and i now understand you for the cruel man you will always be.. good bye.

smoke a cigerette , think calm thoughts, look at the future. Today a man died in my head, he died on friday as the herald reported it. his name was Hearld,, no Harold. what ever, you would know him if you were out in the downtown of bellingville. I am sad . he was a nice person, poor like all of us, he lived in a closet in the clover building for years. and really i didn’t know him well. but lately he would ask me about the Occupy movement and you could feel he wanted to attend.. but couldn’t because of the frustrations of Old age and arthritis. there must have been other reasons but i never got to ask. I remember he would knod his head last summer and sometimes listen as i played guitar on the streets busking.
He was a familiar face we look for but never really acknowledge as important, until they are not there. The idea of permanence gives us hope. the missing sight of the near Santa looking man, has been a hole in the downtown facade. it is not the end to my sadness.
I have also said good bye to the bellingville Occupy at the same time. I miss the feeling around protest, but the meaning has been lost. Small groups gather in far off places, arguing about small things, and no mention of the greater movement of corporate crimes against the government,, or corporate collusion to over throw the government, we can no longer live by business alone promising the rights of people. Our food is corrupted, our children are taught to corrupt, we are living a short lived lie daily. like nothing matters. and we argue on a president.
I watched as these small groups ripped off one uniform for another, and create disillusionment through an united intelligence that still didn’t know how deep the rabbit hole. and in that vain created a controlled organization that didn’t even have an Occupy Bellingham sign, until the artist Lea Kelley made one (she left the movement soon after the second protest when the controllers invited her to a private meeting she refused to attend) these same problems Never more seen than at the camp in Maritime Park. when the “Protester” couldn’t tell you why they were there from the alcohol on their breath, or their childishness concerning research. they haven’t been following the defrauding of the government since JFK, through Haliburton, to the Bank ballouts. from the ten years war and false starting of Weapons of mass destruction that were not there. six thousand die with us to blame. cause we didn’t say anything and corporate opinion rules the media, owning to Reagans elimination of contols over ownership of media sources.
I watched sadly . as no one who understood the problems fully were allowed to present the conclusions and include everyone in the discussions. It was a hope ,like most, that failed. like missing a dead man.
But that does not end what i am sad about. With all the clamoring about corporate control which is useless, we aren’t hearing from their lips , the true voice of The need for change in environmentalism and Practices. We don’t hear about solar energy,, we dont hear about alternative fuels.. and we see Hummers running around, and people guarding private property with mansions. We have allowed so much in the name of money. that only the question of money affects us. I think the occupy movement has the wrong shoes on ,, and for a reason. if a people’s movement became about environment issues the corporation would have to change. Someone is looking to stop that,, but it is the stable of European riots. We choose instead to argue about jobs we gave away long ago. and the Education and welfare of our people we gave away to the cheapest bidder long ago.
and that is not even why i am sad. I am sad because things are changing for me. and i must live without even the small money i get. I cant work, the low brow ignorance of Washington laws and my twitching from ptsd. i don’t know the underground well enough around here. and most of this Sheltered area are undereducated or over educated Ie sold out, and haven’t realized nothing gets done by the book. Laws are made for people who get caught. and Private knowledge is the only knowledge. you would think Cleaning up Chemical messes would be first right in a land with the largest Waste dump in the country. and a town with a water front infested with mercury, with the ever present side effect of depression. Maybe i am sad cause i am still here.
I have learned a lot here. I have learned i had ptsd, for which only really came out when trying to talk with Occupy Ga’s Occupy Drunks and the weak and mediocre public here. but lets face it is me i was and always talk to. my violent voice is constantly restrained by Marijuana, my actions started to get like my step father, possessive and drunk with righteousness, I yelled at a girl to stop her from intervening when i wanted a man to swing on me at the occupy camp. as he acted like he was angry and brave enough He called me a thief for taking a jacket donated to the movement. but there is no hope on the streets among the weak, or drug infested,, so i have been learning about me, and i am sad. I don’t see the environment as sustainable, i don’t see our food as good for us. I see and hear the corporate opinion ruling the day, and i listened as another man died, and realized i didn’t know him well enough to cry , though talk to him at least once a week. and saw him everyday, I am disjointed. and sorry for the wrongs i commit, but there doesn’t seem to be a right. we are all fucked. ONly as we pretend can we find life. don’t look this way or that and you might survive, but don’t expect to have a real hope for your children unless you are building an underground fall out shelter that can survive fifty years. It has been a long life. filled with pain. i am sad .