Before I got married, I told my wife that I didn’t want her to take my name, that I wanted us to maintain our individuality/identities. Yesterday, six years after our divorce, she told me that I needed to re-write my child support check and use her new, married name.
I’d known she’d taken dude’s name, but it caused me to meditate on the issue some more: Why would a woman want to take a man’s name…in 2008? Who wants to be property? Hell, who wants to be married?
Does anybody stand for anything anymore?
Call me naive but……. what sense does it make to protest or complain about our illegal, imperial, fascist government – if you’re gonna turn around and pay taxes to it so it can continue functioning?! Its a requirement that when the government is injurious of these ends, meaning “the pursuit of life, liberty and happiness,” that we are REQUIRED to dismantle this shit and start over. But who wants to start ovah?
People are jive, man. While my heart always holds out hope, part of me don’t give a fuck what happens to the collective. I’m taking care of tcb!!
I was evangelizing some brothers at work about veganism and it was so clear, there is a causal relationship between the casual callousness towards anything besides people and the casual callousness towards people that eventually rears its head. It is impossible to feel compassion for humans and actively or passively brutalize animals – and NOT have that brutality seat itself in your soul. Impossible. But try telling that to someone who has bought the buffalo wing blinders…Impossible.
The capacity to change is in short supply…and if you can’t change, how the hell do you expect other folks to change?!
I’ve been truly educated the last couple. People are people. They certainly have their differences born of where and with whom and under what conditions they were raised. But people are so very much people. I have a warmth in my heart for my own “kind” but we aren’t as special as I’d imagined. At least, not under current conditions. We have and are being spiritually, emotionally and intellectually savaged every moment of every day. This culture is rape culture; it rapes your mind. Only “real” human currency can batten down the hatches, a real you, not some hand me down, borrowed personna. I see, hear so few, sense so few who can keep it real, can be authentic AND vulnerable at the same time. All around me I see caricatures, cartoons: the strong, black woman, the down brother, the b-girl and boy, the militant, the sellout. Cutouts. Set pieces, costumes, masks, veils.
DEAD. I see dead people, half-people, sheeple, retards, cowards, slaves, compartments, con men and con women.
Where is my tribe? Where are my people?