A war with my flesh

I've been doing some thinking myself... I saw that Cornel West clip and I really have to do some dying myself. Our luxuries, our complacency, our ignorance, our belief that somehow an American baby is more valuable than that one in China, it all has to die.
I don't think your commodities are always the direct cause of the struggle but they can be a blindfold preventing us from seeing things for what they really are. It's a struggle to be balanced. Why do I watch a Hotel Rwanda and then feel sad for a bit and then go to Wendy's drink a lemonade and go on with my life? Why is my flesh so weak and sinful? I don't know. One may say it's in our nature to be selfish and not care about others. I think goodness must be strived for. Anne Frank was wrong. The difficulty of growing up in the US and truly being socially conscious and appreciating the human struggle everywhere is as tough if not tougher than growing up in the South during slavery with parents owning slaves and thinking slavery is wrong or having ur dad being an avid Nazi in the 1940s and supporting Jews, Gypsies and all that suffered. The reason Gandhi, Jesus, MLK are all considered so special is because they are anomalies of sorts. John I honestly don't know if humanity can ever come close to that kind of compassion across the board. Not to say we shouldn't reach for it, but as saddening as it sounds, I guess the torch will have to be carried by a select few once again. I mean Cornel hit the mark when he said the only time in the history of America where all Americans were scared and violated and felt like niggers was 9/11 and our response wasnt whoa lets reevaluate what our presence is in this world, but rather lets go out and kill. Saddham was evil but we love those Saudis degrading women?
I've grown up in the church and have never been religious cause i think there's a difference between religion and spirituality. Religion funded the inquisition, had a role in the holocaust, justified slavery, and has killed more than any force in our history. Religion has destroyed people and their ideas that died with them. Original ideas we will never hear about that will never exist. Me being more spiritual has helped ground and humble me. It has helped my flesh die. I think now is in the time in my life where I must learn, not to say I shouldnt be out there helping people at the same time, but Martin, Malcolm, all of them became schooled before they did the schooling. So I suggest we all pay attention, be critical at all times, be beautiful enemies to each other and never let that central air keep you so cozy that we forget we have greatness inside of us to change this world. Learn now so that when your time comes, you'll be ready. Enjoy life but don't think enjoyment should be based solely around you. I think we all have to pick what we want to contribute to. There are far too many problems to attack them all.
I'm gonna go read my bible and figure out how to be gracious, more humble and master this compassion, a mastery so rare that a select few in history have accomplished it. Shit, gotta turn up the AC.... and so the battle begins.....

most nights

my thoughts before i sleep are of the potential of social justice; uplifting of the poor, opportunity for the oppressed, solace for the grieving, empowerment for the disenfranchised, redemption for the guilty...peace for humanity. Greatness for humanity.

most mornings i wake up in my queen bed, under my tommy hilfiger comforter, with a glass of clean water at my bedside (which, I should add, is still cool from the central air).

How does one reconcile their own incongruity? Is it possible for us to support the emergence of something, when in fact we embody a force inhibiting its growth?

(somebody's gotta start a dialogue or i'm quitting the blog, i don't find the act of writing itself therapeutic - its the exchange)

see my affliction

In the Book of Job, Job pleaded with God. What he was able to vocalize in his moment of distress, more than opposable thumbs ever could, is what separates man from animal.

“I am full of confusion. See my affliction, for it increases…He destroys the wicked and the perfect. If not, where and who is he?... WHY HAST THOU BROUGHT ME FORTH OUT OF THE WOMB?”

Animals ride inside a single stroke of the painting. Blessed are us though, we can pull back and see the chaos on the canvas.

And there's the rub, for we can’t pull back far enough to see the disposition of the artist in the presence of his work. Is He pleased? A satanic charm in His eye?

Or Blinded? Strewn on the floor, drunk with regret and shame – a coward? Maybe He’s panicked. Oh! Tell me there’s compassion! Does he curse the hand that clasps the brush that created such pain?

Perhaps He's chuckling to himself, amused at our panicked uncertainty, his pleasure only in the wake of a calm that knows a truth worthy of revelling in its beauty.

Maybe he’s no help at all, his tilted head and glazed eyes stare blindly through His work trying to remember what he meant by it once upon a time.

Is He looking at all?!

Breathe. To be a trophy life, kept on display, but always uncertain of our value... our meaning.

"Every generation is lost in something,"

And mine was lost in thought. The conversation was dying with the flames but our minds were rising with the smoke. I watched the last wisps climb, climb, climb until the infinite night sky became too much to conquer. Undaunted, our physical forms decided not to graffiti their short lived proximity with exhausted jokes and priceless memories. For those few moments, seconds, maybe even minutes I watched as eyes wandered towards the stars, no doubt following the conscious, urging it upward.

Much like the woodsmoke, soon it would dissipate and our thoughts would turn to wordly matters. We would once more attempt to coax our own personal icebergs above the low water mark. The silence was comfortable, however, and I still wonder where we all went for that stitch in time. Who among us travelled to another continent, surely the allure of an instant spent with a brother in arms overseas was too much of a temptation. Who looked to the future? Were any of us able to navigate the path covered in a fog clouded with dreams and find truth? I cherished our time together, and finding the warmth that those thoughts carried I tried to touch those less fortunate. I hope my thread of smoke was enough. I was encouraged by the feeling that I wasn't alone, in body and spirit. We are often of the same mind, and again I can only wonder how often we haven't been able to sit around a table and still keep each other company by weaving a blanket of thought.

One by one we step away from the loom, shift our weight, and whet our lips. Time is much shorter when your hand is around a bottle. Let's talk while we can, keep your journeys deep inside. Who knows, soon you'll see us living up to the title of the website, and it won't be long before the smoke is blowing to another corner of the globe. Just keep in mind that if our feet are on top of different dirt, our heads are in the same sky.

The love is heavy, watch how it arches my breast.

Sevilla: mi corazón

The landing was immaculate. the lights the beauty the faces the places... so much to describe, so much on my mind. Never have I been more convinced we're not the best other people do it better... we're just the most blessed. Their passion the look in the eyes of the flamenco performers... I want it all. In the US we live to work, and here they work to live. It's not about 9 to 5's always being on the grind with mercedes in mind. Life is cool... only the essentials sippin on some sangria whisperin sweet nothings to that beautiful chica. The sun sets at 10pm thats gotta be poetic... We dance and dance and drink till 8 in the morning. I''ve never been this free... Life is beautiful the world is round... God is good... I'm so far from the hood. I'm so inspired this place has lit a fire somethin like a street car named desire. My dreams are beautiful as the Sevillana laying next to me. A season of Spain's Perfection

$5 pitchers

it'll be the funnest blog yet, don't care if its the 'most' or the 'est', pat im lost and looking for nothing too. i stepped out the bar and saw American Eagle on the curb with his hat backwards talking on his cell phone. AHH better tilt mine to the side quick, swerved left and swerved right, we'll go this way and that as long as "we's" only a few, i toasted to the few that knew. inside they mighta thought they knew what i was smiling about- if they did, i hope they tell me so i know myself. oh yea i was a kid with them once, and you could smile then, so we can smile now. funny how you gotta wait til you're 21 to be a kid again. my keys stopped drinking early for the few still growing.

dropped onto the walk with a dip in my step looked left and looked right, dont care if that eagle was looking behind me. No, really i didn't. i knew i was in poughkeepsie. and poughkeepsie's nothing.

except poughkeepsie's america, and america's something i can't pronounce, drunk or not. its sorta like a drink itself, or a few. america, america the brewery - fun tonight but we'll be hung over tomorrow, hung over in the next life, yea hurting from last night. hope i stopped in time.

let me drop my title and ill let you drop yours too. and then i can stop thinking about it everyday, so self-concious, oh how american i am

unpolished

there is a realization when i look at the date. june 11th 2007, less than two weeks in a city i've worn. when i was younger i dreamt about a perfect present. je vis mes reves. i realized that i've had to say goodbye more often than most people my age. it is a result of a youth that i have been very fortunate to have, but still it hurts somewhere real when i think of the passing moments. also, when i try to write about it, it's all cliche and the real thing is hidden. je vis mes reves. l'instant cache. i've always seen months and days in my head, i can see two years from now- the image of time to me is clear but impossible to really describe, a description would probably give the image a boundry, but it is kind of like a big calendar without marks, and a curved line that jumps over months to bring me to a future that i never thought would happen. then, when i am there, i don't realize that i have already been here. i don't even know what i am trying to say. i have nothing to offer anybody but my own confusion. i stole that line from someone older than me who is dead.