Winter Stomp

There is often a sizable vacuum left behind in the absence of a steady influx of fresh ridiculousness rolling into my life to help fill the gaps of pandemically inspired boredom and I have discovered that some semblance of a temporary balance might be found within the gushing inrush of unexpected nostalgia, surging up from a hesitant place to help fill that incessant hunger to feel something.  And when the familiar and intimate transcontinental texting lifelines last night understandably petered out in the crushing end-grip of another day of exhausted adulting, I was left on my own to find a way of filling another isolated night’s empty hours. And we all know that never ends particularly well for me, here alone and unsupervised, caught in the …

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Speech Writing 101

It is so very difficult to feel safe right now, when there is still so much virulent plague running rampant in our streets.  And when we see that our cities are still burning.  And that divorce and separations are unspooling the very fabric of our social unity.  And when a war that threatens to be anything but civil threatens and taunts from a not too distant future if we do not shift our course. People are understandably scared in these unpredictable times.  People are undeniably hurting.  People are becoming lost, struggling to find their way amidst all the confusion and disinformation that feed the cancer of a disenfranchisement festering at our very national core. It often feels nearly impossible to find a solid footing in the …

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Confessions of a Broken American

It is the kind of late summer night that feels overly ripe for confessions. It is the kind of night that lingers and churns, as the bitter words balk and hesitate on the tip of a dry tongue.  Words that yearn to be screamed out from the very rooftop of a small blue house cornered nakedly in the broken heart of a City of Wayne.  Words aching for the altruistic freedoms promised by honest artistic exclamation.  Words that instead inexplicably cling tenaciously to the last gasp of decent decorum and the inherently flawed rules of a supposedly polite society that was anything but polite to me, in all the years spent in this shitty little flyover town so full of fucked up perspectives and priorities and …

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Loathing the Fear in Wayne’s City

The Republic is undeniably burning tonight. And all the accompanying fears seep in hard and unrelenting through the smoke, probing and penetrating daily against secretive hushed boundaries in  surprisingly offensive retaliation for our uniquely dysfunctional national immaturity still unraveling nightly on the world’s stage. Fear that is never quite fully mitigated; an underlying uncertainty that never seems rationally moderated.  The terror that is neglectfully left unrestrained and unsupervised on the naked battlefield of our pandemically tainted zeitgeist.  The constant unchecked gluttonous extinguishment of weary victims keeps occurring, even long after that supposed final shot.  Or that untrained uniform squeeze.  Or the metallic click of unjustified handcuffs.  Or an unmasked cough’s wet rattle. So the cities are caught in the grip of violent protest tonight. Citizens march …

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