We Need to Speak a New Language

"But it is not enough for me to stand before you tonight and condemn riots. It would be morally irresponsible for me to do that without, at the same time, condemning the contingent, intolerable conditions that exist in our society. These conditions are the things that cause individuals to feel that they have no other alternative than to engage in violent rebellions to get attention. And I must say tonight that a riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it America has failed to hear? It has failed to hear that the plight of the negro poor has worsened over the last twelve or fifteen years. It has failed to hear that the promises of freedom and justice have not been met. And it has failed to hear that large segments of white society are more concerned about tranquility and the status quo than about justice and humanity."

Martin Luther King J

We need to throw violence aside. We need speak a new language, the language of the oppressor. I guarantee that we will get their attention if it has some outrageous price tag. Just a one day, national strike, excluding emergency and medical workers, would make them, the billionaires and their lackey politicians, start to listen.

But that would hurt the economy. First, have you seen our economy lately? Second, that's kind of the point. And third, they would be forced to listen to the demands of the people to fix all the problems of systemic racism, marginalization and willful ignorance of the the abject poor, police brutality, corporate welfare, all of it.

Violence will never do that. Violence begets more violence, and so on. Its an infinite line of falling dominos. Messing with their money is a swift kick to the nuts that will get their attention every time. A general strike is a valuable tool for we the people. It's the only one we have that ensures we are heard. 

Its always been we the people. We...are the majority! Time to take it!

Another Summer Almost Gone

The heatwave broke so we are back to our normal 110 to 115 days. Eight more days until September. I'm riding it out like this...in this chair, with a full misting bottle, my remote, and water. I am in the end of summer conservation mode. I am not the master of my own reality, I am merely a player. Sedentary as I am lately, maybe a prop. 

It is hot. It is the desert... hydrate or die.

This last week has been an endurance test. With temperatures staying above one hundred degrees for twenty hours, and the low temps in the upper eighties, I have had to change my sleep schedule. This can be problematic for me, more so than the heat. A key thing to remember with heat is simple...hydrate or die. When I start majorly messing with my sleep schedule I can, and most usually, get a little crazy.

I am actively psychotic most times. The degree of intensity is what varies for me. I'd call them episodes, but its been about three years since I can remember full silence in my head. So maybe I'll call them my symptoms. That's what my therapist calls them.

These symptoms range from crowd noise, two regular voices, to seeing my shadow buddy, or random figures run across my periphery. The visuals have slowed down a lot. It's been a few weeks, I believe, since I've seen anything. Mostly it's noise. I get random explosions and gunshots from time to time. It's a cacophony of noise.

This time is different, in a good way. This time I really exacerbated my symptoms by drastically changing my sleep pattern. At the time I didn't even think about it. I just did it. I don't recommend that though. The good that came from this was that I can control this to a point. Last year I accepted that this was going to be my new normal. (I can't believe I just strung those two words together.) By accepting the hallucinations for what they really are... hallucinations, it freed me in a sense. Don't get me wrong, they still scare the shit out of me sometimes. I just realize what they are quicker, I suppose.

Its funny that, due to some issues with VA, I haven't had my meds for the past couple months, but I feel that I am doing alright. I haven't yelled at God, Jesus, or the devil in a long time. Ironically I was on meds when that last one happened. I talk to my voices when I'm in the store, but its so muffled, like a little kid muttering that cool new swear word they learned on the playground. In a voice so faint, a butterfly flying by would muffle the sound...I just got a taste of Zest in my mouth. No wonder I was a chickenshit. But I talk softly with a mask over my face, a look that suits me fine, and nobody is the wiser. Thank you pandemic.

Oh, and this heat is a bitch on cellphone batteries. I am starting to do all my important things, like typing this thumb jumbled mess, in the evening when it is cooler...kinda.

Oooh, theres a breeze starting. Time to watch the stars.

My Depression Today

Depression is a snaggletooth hag intent on eating your soul.

All of this recent reflection has opened up the door for my depression to waltz on in, like a familiar antagonist, so familiar that I gave it a label...My Dark Soul. It reads like a book you've read twenty times. It becomes predictable, but you entertain it nonetheless. You have no choice. Depression is a bitch!

With the exception of me reliving the darker parts of my past, I've had a relatively stable life recently. My unconventional living arrangements have brought me stability. Right now my vision is for intentional community. --Ok, I've had that vision for years.-- I'm also writing more, eating well, and managing my symptoms.

And I still get depressed.

An easy way to keep depression away, I suppose, would be to stuff it back into those dank boxes in my mind's equally dank basement. I want resolution. I want closure. So that's out.

The only way to deal with it is to deal with it.

I've come to look at the pain of depression like a healing wound. The depression, for me, always goes away. The length of time varies. It is more an endurance test for me these days. But the pain is going away, there's healing and ugly scars, so thick that they protect that wound from ever experiencing pain again. I am not going to let it kill me. No, I will save that for whatever the healthy American lifestyle throws my way.

I'm still depressed. I'm dealing with it. I have a wonderful campmate who is aware of my brain's faults and keeps the day to day stuff caught up while I do my little sad boy shit of laying around because I literally feel a physical heaviness, like gravity got turned up to ten, or a hundred. At this point my voices are their worst. Sometimes I fight back. Other times, most times if I'm honest, I ignore them. During those times I am worthles. It takes a lot of energy to fight your brain.

It is getting better. I can feel it lifting. I actually did the dishes today. I'm taking showers. I am able to write this little hacky blog post. I'm not laying around as much. This time next week my mood will be better. At least I hope so.

It still sucks, but its getting better.

My Thoughts While Waiting for Armageddon

When I was growing up I moved a lot. I went to nine schools before I dropped out in 10th grade. Those last two years I don't consider actual learning. My high school experience consisted of attending only two classes. One was English comp, and the other was Teens and Law...it was the early 80s.

My delinquency isn't my point. (Focus dumbass)

I was always the new kid. I would find myself in the awkward position of making new friends and hoping I wouldn't get my ass kicked on the first day. The second day is ok, but on the first day is not a good introduction.

I've been on a journey of sorts lately. After my hospitalization I resolved to fix my shit no matter how painful, and embarrassing I thought it would inevitably be. Its not as bad as I thought, I always think the worst; in fact it has been healing.

This journey has me remembering a lot from my past. I was remembering those first days at all those new schools. The uneasy feeling of not knowing a soul. The apprehension of not knowing if I was going to get in a fight before the day ended. Having to stand up in class to introduce myself...all of it got jumbled up into my little body and made the first day of a new school hell.

Most of those fears were more fabrications in my head than truth. I got in one fight on the first day of second grade because I told a another kid, a pasty blonde headed tough guy that there is no such thing as a white Indian when he told me he was Native American. I have always had a problem speaking such stuff out loud.

Still working on it.

That was one instance. Most times I would get settled in to my desk after my introduction and would invariably make friends with some of the kids in class.

With the exception of a few places I've lived, everwhere I have lived has been pretty diverse. I feel fortunate to have lived in such diversity. Having done so has given me an appreciation for other cultures. More importantly, it opened my eyes to the broad spectrum of humanity.

The other day I was thinking about an old friend from Saudi Arabia. I knew Amir from 5th grade. We sat next to each other in class. His father was an engineer for some petroleum company. Amir was like me in that he went to as many schools as I did, except his were in other countries. We found a commonality quickly. For what little time we were together we were able to learn about each other's cultures, day to day life stuff, and that when we shared that we realized we really weren't that different. In fact, the only difference oftentimes being skin color. What I saw when I went to dinner at Amir's house was family, something I didn't have in that sense, but yearned for. His mother insisting I eat more, " You're so tiny." She would tell me as she scraped more kabasa on my plate. I couldn't refuse.

In hindsight what I received was basic human kindness. And I realized that we have the same desires for those we care about, and humanity at large.

We have more in common than we don't.

As always, I feel like I'm rambling. So I'm going to close with this quote from Mark Twain. Yeah, I know, he's probably going to be cancelled pretty soon, if not already. But do you know what? He is right.

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime."

You don't have to travel far.

Why I Dislike Politicians...Especially Career Politicians

I recently read some excerpts from Mary Trump's book, "Too Much and Never Enough: How My Family Created the World's Most Dangerous Man". I'm waiting for my copy as I write this. From what I read it doesn't paint a pretty picture of Mr Trump.

Mr Trump's family drama aside, it exposes an alarming trend in what is and isn't culturally acceptable. What will we tolerate? What is acceptable truth? Does that all depend on our source of information? Are we being brainwashed, lulled into complacency by sharply contrasting opinion of the same news stories?

Is this the new and improved propaganda machine?  A confusion generator by design. Just talking heads with talking points and no real substance. In it we hear opinion as if it were truth, casting away any chance of hearing differing opinions.

Apparently, what this last few years have shown is that fundamental Christians can tolerate a hell of a lot more than previously thought.

In my opinion that makes them hypocrites. That's fine with me. After years entrenched in the charismatic church, that hydra reared its ugly head on more than one occasion. In short...it was expected. It just needed the right conditions to flourish.

The church tolerates a lot. We all do to a point. That we currently have two candidates with sexual assault charges against them proves that.

It seems greed moved the line of common decency back past debauchery, and mayhem...straight to pedophilia, and sexual assault.

And it seems ok to us as a whole. Let that sink in. We're collectively ok with that.

With any broad generalization I throw out there, I feel the need to clarify that I know it's not really all of us. I know there are individuals on the front lines, doing the work, rescuing slaves. Yes, slaves. There are people exposing pedophiles by posing as young children online to catch them before they can ruin another child's life. It is sad it is needed, but I am grateful to those doing the right thing.

As with anything that I have been writing lately, this is really personal for me. What follows may trigger some of you. It involves sexual assault. I feel its important enough to share, in not so graphic detail, the emotional toll brought on by someone's selfish perversions.

When I was fifteen years old I was drugged, and raped by two older men that I thought of as friends.

It took me almost forty years to say that out loud. It also devastated my life.

Some of you know that I live with mental Illness. I live with constant noise, occasional visits from my shadow buddy, and two voices (one of which used to be god) that have reminded me on and off for years about the details and fault of my assault. They tell me it was my fault. They had me convinced the only option was suicide. I am glad to say that through a series of events from people I didn't realize cared about me...a lot, I went to the hospital and confronted my demons.

Nowadays I fight them back. I have a tattoo on my right wrist. Its a semicolon with the words, "I'm still here fuckers" I got it the day after I was discharged from the hospital. It has served as a reminder that I am a fighter.

It is also a declaration to my rapists. You didn't kill me. I'm still here fuckers!

So, back to my lament.

And we are ok with candidates, those in office, those in leadership, with history of sexual misconduct.

I did a quick Google search the other day. It was, politicians with sexual misconduct charges. I've provided a link at the end of this. The list will blow your mind. Some are extramarital affairs, some are straight up disgusting.

From that list it would appear that any kind of deviant behavior is an accepted practice among those in office. Almost like its collateral damage for the privilage of sharing their profound political genius.

I don't believe they are totally to blame. I believe that power has corrupted our politicians, regardless of sexual crimes. All politicians are hiding something. I also believe that the same power allows for more corruption to accumulate.

Like I said, this is personal for me. Sexual predators should not be leading our country. They should be in jail. But, because of that power they are allowed a pass? Is that the message we are sending when we go to the polls?

Its time we take control of this country. Our country. I'm still a fighter. I am a voice of frustration. Frustrated with the direction a few have taken this country. Frustrated with few choices for leadership. Frustrated with politicians more worried about polls and towing the party line I stead of fixing all of this shit mess they created. They're like little kids who threw all the toys out from the toy box and are refusing to clean up. If I had my way, you all would be spanked.

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_federal_political_sex_scandals_in_the_United_State

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I'm Back...

Ok, I have come back to this blog. I've had this blog, in one form or another, since the early 2000's. I leave it from time to time, but like an old friend, our relationship picks up where it let off. Its comforting. 

Since my last post so many years ago, I have had a lot happen. One significant thing that has happened centers around my mental illness. I'll save you the details for now. Cliff Notes, my mental illness got worse, which I expected, and I'm now living off grid, squatting in Slab City. 

I love it here. Its currently hot as hell, and it feels like preparation for eternity if I let my thoughts go that way. The heat doesn't bother me. I have my friends, dogs, shelter, lots of food, and most importantly, peace. I also have lots of time now to write. I had a huge breakthrough in my treatment recently that opened up my concentration. I thought I had lost the ability to hyperfocus on something like art, writing, watching a TV show, reading...oh my god, reading! 

I thought I lost that. 

I am usually into two or three books in a week. I like to have a novel in there for entertainment. Mostly though, I've been refreshing myself with prerevolutionary American papers, essays, declarations. 

So I dust this blog off once again. This time its going to be whatever comes to mind. I'm just some mental living in the desert with a lot of time and a lot of thinking. 

Its either this or drinking myself to death. Naw, fuck that. Oh yeah, I'm still pretty salty with the language. I would apologize, but why would I apologize for a set of words that give no doubt to the writers intention. They add emphasis in ways that only those special literary gems can. The perfect sentence enhancer. Fuck yeah, now that's the shit. 

Ok, I have shit to think about. Check back often, or not at all. FREEDOM! 

I am on a break..

 If you haven't noticed yet, I have taken a bit of a break from this blog. I have been focusing my efforts over at Strike Magazine, Facebook and submitting the occasional poem here and there. I will be back in due time. Until then, check out Strike Magazine...



© Charles Scott 2014

First Article at Strike Magazine

Recent piece at Strike Magazine... Check it out here.





© Charles Scott 2014

Screaming Sundays: Good Writing is at Your Fingertips

Screaming Sundays at Screaming With Brevity.

Good Writing is at Your Fingertips

Thank you to Matthew J. Hall for asking me to contribute.