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THE ZERO-SUM TOTAL of Self Denial
Buddhism’s soul wheel exposes a haunting truth: the Preta, or hungry ghosts, symbolize our relentless yearning in a world of scarcity. This echoes late-stage capitalism’s cruel nature, where insatiable desires imprison souls. Long before capitalism was birthed, its essence was foretold—a zero-sum game of denial and loathing affecting us all.
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The Bête Bricoleur
I can write about Cerberus—The Performer, The Gatekeeper, and The Ice Monarch—because at various points in my career, I have tried to be them. We are often drawn to the masks we admire, or the ones we fear we lack.
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Ceci n’est pas une école
If I had my way (and I probably never will in this regard), I wouldn’t burn books—knowledge is sacred. But I would take every piece of bureaucratic, gatekeeping, money-making crap from the College Board industrial complex, pile it in the center of an empty field, and surround it with sage. I would light the sage,…
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The Posterior Lie
I vacillated on the publish button. This is the story of the 17-year-old kid holed up in the dark, the 5-year-old in the hospital, and the Red Thread that ties them together. A journey through the ‘Posterior Lie’ of trauma to find the gold hidden in the mud.
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The Crack in Everything: How Trauma Made Me a Teacher
Tonight is my 30th High School Reunion. I thought about going. I’m not. While I feel less animosity than I did for the 10th or the 20th, the invite—and the social media blitz from the class Instagram account—opened a trauma wound that hadn’t fully healed. It was a May weekend in 1994. The Rangers had…
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Twisted Sonnet
I sat with my coffee and journal this morning and was feeling iambic. At first I was afraid my iron was low, but the hemogleebinglobbinglobin all the while and it was then I realized I was straining a terrible pun way beyond its tensile strength (you tensile! Fork you!)… but I digress… my puns are…
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I hated coloring inside the lines, so I decided to make my own
I hated coloring inside the lines, so I decided to make my own. As soon as that sentence entered my head, I knew it was important. I knew it was more than the sum of its words’ meanings.
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#F It
How many fields have fallen fallow from failure to follow A path that seemed to far For fear of finding my self Forgetting I’m found?
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The Abusive Father and the Wayward Child: Framing Nationalism as Trauma
A very sick, cruel, sadistic, manipulatively maladjusted sociopath is punishing the half of the country who haven’t sold their souls to him. The Democrats refused to allow him to strip working-class people of food stamps and healthcare. Surprisingly, they held their ground as he and his minions kept the government closed—among other things—to stave off…
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AN Open Letter To President Donald J. Trump
Dear Donald, May I call you Donald? You’ve made it quite clear that you would like to win a Nobel Peace Prize before you die… and let’s face it, brother, you’re not looking very good. It’s becoming increasingly clear that you’re not the one pulling the strings anymore on Pennsylvania Avenue. You seem to have…
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