Twisted Treatises

Let's begin with--I'm not anti-drug, not any drug. You can do whatever you want. I'm not going to judge you for it. My scales are all broken. Everyone knows this. But, in case I'm wrong-- TRIGGER WARNING: I have very little filter, and I’m notoriously batshit. If you know me, you know that. If you don’t, at least I told you. What more do you want? If that scares you, don’t read my stuff. And don’t try to turn this into “UHHHH, HUH-WHUAH! He’s a MAGA!!! Fuck am I tired of that schizoid horseshit. Fix your goddamn object relationship, spazmo. You fuckin’ sound like the flipside Hannity when you do that shit. Knock it the goddamn fuck off. There. If that triggered you, don’t read this. For about three months, I’ve been thinking about quitting weed. Yesterday, I decided I was going to follow through. That doesn’t mean cold turkey. I am bipolar. There’s some argument that it may have turned into a mild form of split personality disorder. I don’t think that’s the fault of w...

My  father is…for all intents and purposes, dead. He has Alzheimer’s and remembers nothing of his life or his children. But that’s okay. He spent thirty years telling the neighborhood what shit his kids were for leaving him, and my sister, my mother, and I got a nice, fat earful yesterday. Of course, this didn’t last long, for my sister has a propensity to blurt our past sufferings to any poor sucker who will listen, and she wound up talking to the woman for an hour. This woman was my father’s…something…for the past 25 years. She wasn’t candid, but since he left her his house) or perhaps houses-- my grandmother’s is also in question at the moment, and according to the Winnebago County records, he has two assets we can’t see that will be going to this woman. They ought to go to my sister and her children. That’s our position. What gives us the right? “But you didn’t see the man for thirty years!” You may say. The man was a monstrosity. Have I gone into detail at any time, or ...

Haven't done this in a while, so... What I’m not going to talk about is Trump’s obvious push for tyranny. Or how fucking sycophantic he’s looking toward Musk right now, or how he’s not going after any fucking criminals, just regular immigrants. He’s (of course) saying that he’s going after criminals, but he isn’t. They’ve not busted many criminals. About 7% of those who ICE has busted have been criminals. And the reporting says that’s all ICE is after. It’s bullshit. People wonder and make stupid reels about the cartels not fighting back…well, that’s because he’s not after them. And I’m not going to talk about why. I’m not going to talk about how this is just another example of the system and its self-perpetuating bullshit or the fact that America needs those criminals to perpetuate their prison system by creating lunatic addicts and also keep you needing a hero, and I’m not going to talk about how goddamn cunty it all is. No, not today. (The clips on the news don't impress m...

  “And I hope by the end of this book, your heart beats on this sleeve with ours.” Lindsey Goddard, Editor, Curator, Weird Wide Web and, of course, Sleeve of Hearts This warming sentiment is the last line of Ms. Goddard’s introduction to the chapbook Sleeve of Hearts . I know her well enough to know she means it. Even if I didn’t, I could have seen it through all of the videos she made in promotion of the book—no one puts time like that into anything but labors of love. The care she used curating the book was akin to Parvati’s incubation of Shiva’s children. It was very delicate—after reading it, I can see why. Every poem in this book is a soul hook, each line written not only by someone who can paint with words but by someone who fucking means what they say. And you can tell when you read it. The pain is in the subtext—pain, dismay, love and despair, faith and desperation…but the content is also brimming with a strange hope, the hope that the authors will be heard. Have you...

Hi guys. This is the first installment of the Cocaine Bros, created by John Bruni and Myself. Originally, we were publishing on Tumblr, but that platform is a clickless nowhereland, and none of you are there. I'm assuming this is because it used to be a place for porno creeps. Honestly, they still have their playground there, but that's not why I use it. There are also a lot of art and poetry blogs there, and I'm going to see what those are all about soon. If it has any other bad rap, I have no idea what it is--I never did internet dirt. That always seemed like a joke to me, what with all the very real women and drugs I had around back then. I should really stop telling you guys about my old life. But what fun would that be? And could another type really do the Cocaine Bros? I think not.  What's this going to be? A critique on everything all species of Swine do. Tucker, you see, is a Maga, or at least he thinks he is. Magas like drugs, and they look to be taking power. ...

Not my art, but cool and fitting.  Note: This was written a couple of days ago, and since then I've begun another piece of the process, this one having to do with archetypal lover energy and how it relates to the King energy in my psyche. I'll go into it another time. Point is, this beginning part with the 4 archetypes is a little misleading. I DON'T have all the mess in the Lover energy hashed out. However, I have caught the little bastard, and that's where it begins. Watch out for the Lover Within. That motherfucker is beyond slippy. I’ve told people I fixed myself. What I fixed was my narcissistic self, not the whole self. One does not simple fix the whole self like that. In the disordered person what is narcissistic must go first. Now, I believe I’ve gotten a great deal of that out, or I’d never be able to work with people. There’s a bit of it in how vocal I can be regarding certain happenings, but that’s how I have, historically (or histrionically, yikes) reacted ...