Just a note to my binojiinhs,
Many years from now I hope,
The three of you will need to decide,
Do as you wish whatever you want,
I have always said that funerals aren’t for the dead,
They are for the living so you decide,
What to do with my lifeless corpse,
Empty of energy or breath,
The heart suddenly stopped,
The blood grinds to a halt,
Mouth agape and eyes lifeless,
The rot begins soon after,
This lifeless blob before you,
Oh binojiinhs how I wish we could live forever,
But how long would it be until we tired,
So much pain-so much compromise,
I don’t know what this life is even for,
But I knew nothing-felt nothing before you,
You were my reason for being,
The reason I woke up everyday,
Slogged my way through another miserable shift,
Put up with all of your mother’s shit,
To keep you happy and fed,
To give you the opportunities to do whatever,
That was what life meant to me,
I leave you with nothing but memories,
I hope most of them are good,
Wish sometimes that you had been born rich,
Maybe to better parents somewhere else,
But selfish as I am,
Just happy to have been your father,
To see and be and live with you,
I hope I gave you the best part of me,
Since I will no longer need anything,
Reduced to ashes or returned to the ground,
Many years from now and far away,
From the place of my own birth,
Across the ocean during the war,
Never having expected to know love or joy,
But the times with you were the best of all,
Nothing else even comes close,
Nothing else even matters in comparison,
I hope I gave you a fragment of that back,
I hope that I did well by the three of you,
And my the greatest pain will be leaving you here,
The three of you to fend for yourselves.
12.03.2007
simple minded
Can’t claim that I’ve done no wrong,
Of course I have-just like everyone else,
We all stumble and fall and keep going,
Whether we want to or whether we should,
Just life coursing through our veins,
Doing as we are told by our biology.
But I have a hard accepting this just now,
Your statement to me when I was distraught,
You fulfilling your duties to the binojiinhs,
But you have no real bond to me,
Just raising the children and doing whatever,
I don’t think I can continue doing this.
Always those three will be with me,
As I know that they will with you,
But so tired of this game that we play,
Don’t want or need any of this,
Just let it go-let us go-let me go,
I know I’ll be better off on my own.
This has been dragging on for so long,
You said you told me but I never listen,
You said he have been totally upfront,
Am I really so naive that I didn’t see,
Or do I just see and hear what I want,
Hiding myself from the simple truth.
Maybe I am brand new to being human,
Re-incarnated from some kind of animal,
Or a bug or whatever else,
Blind and stupid to human ways,
Eating up the lies and wasting my days,
Killing time until life sets me free.
If I could choose would I even try,
Not for sure at this very moment,
What’s the point if love is false,
What’s the point if there is no meaning,
Torturing ourselves one lifetime after another,
Until we stop the cycle and stop playing the game.
Simple-minded like a child,
Accepting everything I see and am told,
Complications and justifications blur,
Just a simple man and nothing more,
Never wanted anything but to live,
To find happiness somewhere with someone.
Happiness is not here not with you,
So let us start living again,
Do whatever it is you want to do,
Somehow I need to be true to the binojiinhs,
But that begins with letting you go,
No other way no other route I see,
The end of hope begets another start,
Footstep after footstep a new journey begins.
Of course I have-just like everyone else,
We all stumble and fall and keep going,
Whether we want to or whether we should,
Just life coursing through our veins,
Doing as we are told by our biology.
But I have a hard accepting this just now,
Your statement to me when I was distraught,
You fulfilling your duties to the binojiinhs,
But you have no real bond to me,
Just raising the children and doing whatever,
I don’t think I can continue doing this.
Always those three will be with me,
As I know that they will with you,
But so tired of this game that we play,
Don’t want or need any of this,
Just let it go-let us go-let me go,
I know I’ll be better off on my own.
This has been dragging on for so long,
You said you told me but I never listen,
You said he have been totally upfront,
Am I really so naive that I didn’t see,
Or do I just see and hear what I want,
Hiding myself from the simple truth.
Maybe I am brand new to being human,
Re-incarnated from some kind of animal,
Or a bug or whatever else,
Blind and stupid to human ways,
Eating up the lies and wasting my days,
Killing time until life sets me free.
If I could choose would I even try,
Not for sure at this very moment,
What’s the point if love is false,
What’s the point if there is no meaning,
Torturing ourselves one lifetime after another,
Until we stop the cycle and stop playing the game.
Simple-minded like a child,
Accepting everything I see and am told,
Complications and justifications blur,
Just a simple man and nothing more,
Never wanted anything but to live,
To find happiness somewhere with someone.
Happiness is not here not with you,
So let us start living again,
Do whatever it is you want to do,
Somehow I need to be true to the binojiinhs,
But that begins with letting you go,
No other way no other route I see,
The end of hope begets another start,
Footstep after footstep a new journey begins.
death of narrative
Death of narrative,
Or so I’ve heard,
Flooded with opinions,
Up to our necks in other’s thoughts,
Just need to spill my guts,
Forget about sorting it out,
Don’t bother finding a moral,
You live you die,
Everything else resides in between.
Always looking for an explanation,
Looking for a reason,
Expecting some kind of something,
But none can be found,
Stories are simply told,
Need to be digested,
Draw your own conclusions,
Shut up and live,
Shut off the internal critic.
Whoever told you it makes sense,
Must have had something to sell,
Life just is-nothing else,
Our minds too small to fathom,
Will we ever know ever realize,
Maybe but I’ll be long dead,
Not even a distant memory,
Nothing inherently wrong with that,
Brought forth from the void only to go back.
This is my story,
For what its worth,
This is what I have seen,
This is what I have done,
These are my supramundane thoughts,
This is the essence of what I call me,
Not that much different from you,
Despite the games we play,
And the boundaries we place.
I leave it to someone else to analyze,
To deconstruct and rip apart,
No good no bad,
Just this and nothing else,
Blessed to be in human form,
Even if for only a moment,
Just an instant just a flash,
Beginnings and endings entwined,
The now echoing into endless time.
Or so I’ve heard,
Flooded with opinions,
Up to our necks in other’s thoughts,
Just need to spill my guts,
Forget about sorting it out,
Don’t bother finding a moral,
You live you die,
Everything else resides in between.
Always looking for an explanation,
Looking for a reason,
Expecting some kind of something,
But none can be found,
Stories are simply told,
Need to be digested,
Draw your own conclusions,
Shut up and live,
Shut off the internal critic.
Whoever told you it makes sense,
Must have had something to sell,
Life just is-nothing else,
Our minds too small to fathom,
Will we ever know ever realize,
Maybe but I’ll be long dead,
Not even a distant memory,
Nothing inherently wrong with that,
Brought forth from the void only to go back.
This is my story,
For what its worth,
This is what I have seen,
This is what I have done,
These are my supramundane thoughts,
This is the essence of what I call me,
Not that much different from you,
Despite the games we play,
And the boundaries we place.
I leave it to someone else to analyze,
To deconstruct and rip apart,
No good no bad,
Just this and nothing else,
Blessed to be in human form,
Even if for only a moment,
Just an instant just a flash,
Beginnings and endings entwined,
The now echoing into endless time.
12.01.2007
work
my line of work can be pretty crappy some times...
But...I'm really good at what I do...
So I've been trying to make the best of it--
the funnest/most challenging job I've ever had was as a line cook at this fancy restaurant while I was attending college--
I've managed to channel some of the good aspects of that to my current job.
I'm the floor supervisor and have to handle my responsibilites as well as keep track of the everyone else's progress and be available to answer my employees' or other's question and trouble-shoot any other problems as needed...
I talk a lot of smack with my co-workers but they know me well enough to understand that 1) it's all in good fun 2) i would do anything for them; for the most part, they seem to reciprocate.
while working in fast food dives/cherry farms/mushroom canning plants/groundskeeping, etc . . . as a student, I wanted to explore/practice some of my spiritual beliefs---as someone who has an interest in Buddhism/Native spirituality, I do believe that those beliefs can make me a better supervisor/co-worker/employee...
But it's a daily practice and sometimes things don't work out quite the way you thought/had hoped, but then someone totally surprises you/exceeds your expectations--and teaches you something about faith/trust/humility in an instant...
flexibility/having an open mind/being able to not take myself so seriously...those are the keys for me right now. I try to practice those things on a daily basis when possible...sometimes I have no choice.
but my job, despite its many faults (much like me) has its merits and I try to give my best effort, to give my attention to the details, and I feel more fulfilled and satisfied in the process...
But...I'm really good at what I do...
So I've been trying to make the best of it--
the funnest/most challenging job I've ever had was as a line cook at this fancy restaurant while I was attending college--
I've managed to channel some of the good aspects of that to my current job.
I'm the floor supervisor and have to handle my responsibilites as well as keep track of the everyone else's progress and be available to answer my employees' or other's question and trouble-shoot any other problems as needed...
I talk a lot of smack with my co-workers but they know me well enough to understand that 1) it's all in good fun 2) i would do anything for them; for the most part, they seem to reciprocate.
while working in fast food dives/cherry farms/mushroom canning plants/groundskeeping, etc . . . as a student, I wanted to explore/practice some of my spiritual beliefs---as someone who has an interest in Buddhism/Native spirituality, I do believe that those beliefs can make me a better supervisor/co-worker/employee...
But it's a daily practice and sometimes things don't work out quite the way you thought/had hoped, but then someone totally surprises you/exceeds your expectations--and teaches you something about faith/trust/humility in an instant...
flexibility/having an open mind/being able to not take myself so seriously...those are the keys for me right now. I try to practice those things on a daily basis when possible...sometimes I have no choice.
but my job, despite its many faults (much like me) has its merits and I try to give my best effort, to give my attention to the details, and I feel more fulfilled and satisfied in the process...
11.29.2007
Led Zeppelin
Listening to Led Zeppelin to pass the time,
Started thinking back to the summer of 1980,
The summer of my liberation,
Broke free from parental control,
Opened my eyes to other possibilities,
A crossroads in so many ways,
Stuck between elementary and junior high,
Realized that there was so much beyond,
Just what I saw or was told by mom or dad,
A world beyond my little neighborhood.
My parents went to Thailand,
Hoping to bring my sister back with them,
She who they left with my grams,
Back in ’74 when I came over,
Something about paperwork,
Something about governmental red tape,
My half-sister growing up half a world away,
So they shipped Jay and I off to Uncle D’s,
Over on the Eastside just past Gratiot,
South of 7 Mile just east of Hayes.
Uncle D and Aunt Dot—
Living on Glenbrook with Bri and Matt,
Along with Aunt Dot’s mom,
Assorted pets and not much else,
In a big brick house on a quiet street,
Lined with tall trees and broken sidewalks,
Haunted by the ghosts of Detroit’s past.
It seems like we spent most every weekend there,
My dad and uncle were the best of friends,
Just a year apart-but so different in every way,
And the worst of enemies when they fought,
Which was never that often that I can recall,
Uncle D filled the room with his presence,
His booming laugh and contagious spirit,
He was a good head taller than my father,
Who was quiet and average by comparison,
But memories can be distorted and faded by time.
Brian was four years my senior,
Entering his second year at Finney H.S.,
And Matt was four years younger,
Almost splitting the difference between me and my brother,
And Bri introduced me to Heavy Metal that summer,
The same year that we’d lose Bonham, Curtis and Marley,
Up until then I just listened to whatever,
Stuck on the Beatles’ Abbey Road,
And whatever else my parents had on vinyl/reel-to-reel/cassette,
From Jim Croce to Johnny Cash and Buddy Holly to Bollywood.
I listened to some Motown and 50's too,
Frankie Valli and even Elvis,
But Zeppelin was new and raw,
Even though it was twelve years after,
Nowhere near cutting edge by then,
But I was awestruck just the same,
And stayed that way until MTV,
Spin Magazine/Rolling Stone and alternative shows,
Introduced me to a whole other scene,
A sound that I still admire to this day.
Back in the summer of 1980,
I was all about Plant/Page/Bonham and Jones,
As we walked the back alleys of Detroit,
Looking for trouble looking for something,
To take us away from the everyday,
Led Zeppelin I, II, III and IV,
Presence, Houses of the Holy,
The Song Remains the Same,
Physical Graffiti and In Through the Out Door,
Couldn't believe my ears wanted to hear more.
They bridged the gap with their blues/rock,
Proto-heavy metal cock rock,
Expanded our minds with unique sounds,
Took us to Kashmir and Valhalla,
Tied east and west and everything inbetween,
Vocalized pre-teen angst and lust,
Introduced so many different ideas,
I could go on and on but I need a beer,
So if any of you feel the same,
Just let me know and I'll lend an ear...
Started thinking back to the summer of 1980,
The summer of my liberation,
Broke free from parental control,
Opened my eyes to other possibilities,
A crossroads in so many ways,
Stuck between elementary and junior high,
Realized that there was so much beyond,
Just what I saw or was told by mom or dad,
A world beyond my little neighborhood.
My parents went to Thailand,
Hoping to bring my sister back with them,
She who they left with my grams,
Back in ’74 when I came over,
Something about paperwork,
Something about governmental red tape,
My half-sister growing up half a world away,
So they shipped Jay and I off to Uncle D’s,
Over on the Eastside just past Gratiot,
South of 7 Mile just east of Hayes.
Uncle D and Aunt Dot—
Living on Glenbrook with Bri and Matt,
Along with Aunt Dot’s mom,
Assorted pets and not much else,
In a big brick house on a quiet street,
Lined with tall trees and broken sidewalks,
Haunted by the ghosts of Detroit’s past.
It seems like we spent most every weekend there,
My dad and uncle were the best of friends,
Just a year apart-but so different in every way,
And the worst of enemies when they fought,
Which was never that often that I can recall,
Uncle D filled the room with his presence,
His booming laugh and contagious spirit,
He was a good head taller than my father,
Who was quiet and average by comparison,
But memories can be distorted and faded by time.
Brian was four years my senior,
Entering his second year at Finney H.S.,
And Matt was four years younger,
Almost splitting the difference between me and my brother,
And Bri introduced me to Heavy Metal that summer,
The same year that we’d lose Bonham, Curtis and Marley,
Up until then I just listened to whatever,
Stuck on the Beatles’ Abbey Road,
And whatever else my parents had on vinyl/reel-to-reel/cassette,
From Jim Croce to Johnny Cash and Buddy Holly to Bollywood.
I listened to some Motown and 50's too,
Frankie Valli and even Elvis,
But Zeppelin was new and raw,
Even though it was twelve years after,
Nowhere near cutting edge by then,
But I was awestruck just the same,
And stayed that way until MTV,
Spin Magazine/Rolling Stone and alternative shows,
Introduced me to a whole other scene,
A sound that I still admire to this day.
Back in the summer of 1980,
I was all about Plant/Page/Bonham and Jones,
As we walked the back alleys of Detroit,
Looking for trouble looking for something,
To take us away from the everyday,
Led Zeppelin I, II, III and IV,
Presence, Houses of the Holy,
The Song Remains the Same,
Physical Graffiti and In Through the Out Door,
Couldn't believe my ears wanted to hear more.
They bridged the gap with their blues/rock,
Proto-heavy metal cock rock,
Expanded our minds with unique sounds,
Took us to Kashmir and Valhalla,
Tied east and west and everything inbetween,
Vocalized pre-teen angst and lust,
Introduced so many different ideas,
I could go on and on but I need a beer,
So if any of you feel the same,
Just let me know and I'll lend an ear...
11.27.2007
so what
so much for your ultimatums,
so much for your little fit,
nothing seems to have changed,
still going through the same shit,
so what/so what/so what,
whatcha gonna do now,
all alone from the bottom of your hole,
nowhere to run,
got nothing to show,
so what the hell do you think,
what the hell you gonna do,
nobody even cares,
nobody is listening to you,
what the fuck did you really expect,
who the fuck do you think you are,
so what/so what/so what,
so you think a little different,
so you think somebody really gives a shit,
same old trap,
different day/same old crap,
nothing more to say,
nowhere to hide,
seal it all up,
keep it inside,
don't bother trying to decide,
which lies to believe,
was it the one or the other,
was she right all along,
maybe you need to stand strong,
so what/so what/so what,
everyone watching the show,
everyone giggling and laughing,
you got played just admit it,
nothing else but to admit it,
you're the bitch and everyone knows,
so get your bitch ass to work,
don't even say a word,
bitch shut your trap,
which reality you gonna choose,
so what/so what/so what,
watcha got left to give,
nothing behind your tired ass eyelids,
thousand yard stare,
bald-head blinding me with the glare,
salt-and-pepper flakes,
bearded old ass never-been,
living the same lie over and over again,
so where you been,
watcha seen,
wake the fuck up outta your dream,
so what/so what/so what,
do watcha gotta do,
but please shut the fuck up.
so much for your little fit,
nothing seems to have changed,
still going through the same shit,
so what/so what/so what,
whatcha gonna do now,
all alone from the bottom of your hole,
nowhere to run,
got nothing to show,
so what the hell do you think,
what the hell you gonna do,
nobody even cares,
nobody is listening to you,
what the fuck did you really expect,
who the fuck do you think you are,
so what/so what/so what,
so you think a little different,
so you think somebody really gives a shit,
same old trap,
different day/same old crap,
nothing more to say,
nowhere to hide,
seal it all up,
keep it inside,
don't bother trying to decide,
which lies to believe,
was it the one or the other,
was she right all along,
maybe you need to stand strong,
so what/so what/so what,
everyone watching the show,
everyone giggling and laughing,
you got played just admit it,
nothing else but to admit it,
you're the bitch and everyone knows,
so get your bitch ass to work,
don't even say a word,
bitch shut your trap,
which reality you gonna choose,
so what/so what/so what,
watcha got left to give,
nothing behind your tired ass eyelids,
thousand yard stare,
bald-head blinding me with the glare,
salt-and-pepper flakes,
bearded old ass never-been,
living the same lie over and over again,
so where you been,
watcha seen,
wake the fuck up outta your dream,
so what/so what/so what,
do watcha gotta do,
but please shut the fuck up.
11.14.2007
4 days, 2 monkeys and 1 willing captive
5/16/2006
Four days of rain is about my limit.
Can’t take anymore of this.
I just want to see the sun again.
The winters here are killing me as it is.
Three or four weeks of no sunshine in the midst of winter.
Don’t get me wrong, I like having all four seasons and I enjoy the changes from season-to-season.
I’d just like to see the sun a little more often.
I’ll be complaining about the heat and humidity come August,
a little strange since I was born and raised in the tropics.
There are two kinds of monkeys, or so the saying goes.
I think it’s an old Hindu story, perhaps it’s Buddhist.
The first kind waits for it’s mama to do everything,
expects to be taken care of and to be told what to do.
The second one survives by it’s own action,
even if that means grabbing onto mama and holding on for dear life as she swings from tree to tree.
I’m trying hard to be that second kind of monkey,
but I keep reverting to the first.
Waiting for someone or something to come along and save me.
Waiting to be picked up, carried, and catered to.
I know the warning signs of slipping into that mindset,
but here I am again, repeating my same old mistakes yet again.
I’ve fought off most of my addictions, or so I thought.
I felt that I should be given a reprieve or an easier way to go.
My crutches are far less insidious than before, but they hold sway over me still. Cigarettes, soda, even Thai food, all fill a void,
give me a shot of endorphins and I cling to them.
Imprisoned by my fears and expectations. Longing for freedom, but unsure
how/where. The blame is always somewhere else.
The reason is always without.
I burrow away deeper within, shielding myself from whatever it is that shakes my beliefs or my sense of well being. I don’t realize that I am a willing captive, that I control my own freedom.
I have walled myself away from the world to protect this fragile ego, blaming everyone and everything else for my imprisonment.
When will I awaken?
When will it end?
Four days of rain is about my limit.
Can’t take anymore of this.
I just want to see the sun again.
The winters here are killing me as it is.
Three or four weeks of no sunshine in the midst of winter.
Don’t get me wrong, I like having all four seasons and I enjoy the changes from season-to-season.
I’d just like to see the sun a little more often.
I’ll be complaining about the heat and humidity come August,
a little strange since I was born and raised in the tropics.
There are two kinds of monkeys, or so the saying goes.
I think it’s an old Hindu story, perhaps it’s Buddhist.
The first kind waits for it’s mama to do everything,
expects to be taken care of and to be told what to do.
The second one survives by it’s own action,
even if that means grabbing onto mama and holding on for dear life as she swings from tree to tree.
I’m trying hard to be that second kind of monkey,
but I keep reverting to the first.
Waiting for someone or something to come along and save me.
Waiting to be picked up, carried, and catered to.
I know the warning signs of slipping into that mindset,
but here I am again, repeating my same old mistakes yet again.
I’ve fought off most of my addictions, or so I thought.
I felt that I should be given a reprieve or an easier way to go.
My crutches are far less insidious than before, but they hold sway over me still. Cigarettes, soda, even Thai food, all fill a void,
give me a shot of endorphins and I cling to them.
Imprisoned by my fears and expectations. Longing for freedom, but unsure
how/where. The blame is always somewhere else.
The reason is always without.
I burrow away deeper within, shielding myself from whatever it is that shakes my beliefs or my sense of well being. I don’t realize that I am a willing captive, that I control my own freedom.
I have walled myself away from the world to protect this fragile ego, blaming everyone and everything else for my imprisonment.
When will I awaken?
When will it end?
one-sided conversation
5/20/2006
O.k. dude, I know everyone has let you down in your life.
Your pops let you down; your mom let you down.
Grams would leave you at home by yourself, no food, no nothing.
The uncles were messed up beyond belief, drunkenness and stupidity
being a bad mix, but you survived all that. You made it out.
We’re both survivors, man, that’s got to count for something, right?
So what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into? There’s gotta be a way out.
What do you need to do to get it straight—what hoops do you need to jump through?
Just do what you gotta do, man, for your sake,
for your kid’s sake.
I don’t know what happened when you were growing up, dude,
I was too young to remember all that stuff. I can barely
remember what happened in my own life, you know?
Our parents were dealing with their own issues back then.
It was a different world back then.
That whole generation--fresh from the war,
doing time in the state or federal system,
dealing with alcoholism, racism,
whatever was going on then.
They lived through the whole civil rights movement,
they were finally allowed to be Indian,
for the first time in their lives.
The whole pan-Indian movement swept across
the continent at that time.
They paved the way for us, and unfortunately,
they had to go through a lot of stuff just be able to say,
with pride, “I’m Indian.” It’s a heck of a lot easier for us,
but we still had to live through mom/dad and everyone else detoxing,
figuring out what the heck they were doing.
They took all kinds of crap out on you and me,
but that was what we did back in those days, you know?
It’s easy for me to sit here and tell you things will work out,
I didn’t go through what you went through.
But we gotta work it out for the next generation,
man. This isn’t about you or me, it’s about the kids—
and their kids, s@#%, seven generations, dude.
We gotta get it straight for all of them.
We gotta succeed despite all the crap that we been through,
show our kids a better way.
I haven’t always made the right choices,
haven’t always done the right thing either.
Dealt with my own substance abuse issues,
lost days and weeks to a drunken stupor,
but that’s done and over with.
Black Elk went through all kinds of crazy stuff,
but he made it out—he became a great spiritual leader,
despite all that stuff.
Maybe because of all that stuff.
He saw both sides—the good and the bad—
he saw the evil and stupidity that we’re all capable of.
He chose the good though, didn’t he? The “Red Road”.
We gotta start somewhere.
We can make something better for those that come after us.
Don’t give in to the stereotypes, the alcohol, whatever.
Don’t let those haters be right about you.
If we end up drunk and useless or in prison or dead,
then they win. I don’t want them to be right about us.
I want to prove them wrong.
I’m not the most compassionate person in the world,
and I don’t know all what you went through,
but don’t let that be the reason they win.
Don’t let that be the reason you gave up.
We’ll take care of what we need to take care of—
then move on. This is what it’s all about, now.
WE decide, WE make the changes.
It’s all about self-determination.
This is how we get out of poverty, alcoholism,
all that jazz. We have to succeed. You can do this—
there’s so many people counting on you to fail—
you HAVE to do this.
O.k. dude, I know everyone has let you down in your life.
Your pops let you down; your mom let you down.
Grams would leave you at home by yourself, no food, no nothing.
The uncles were messed up beyond belief, drunkenness and stupidity
being a bad mix, but you survived all that. You made it out.
We’re both survivors, man, that’s got to count for something, right?
So what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into? There’s gotta be a way out.
What do you need to do to get it straight—what hoops do you need to jump through?
Just do what you gotta do, man, for your sake,
for your kid’s sake.
I don’t know what happened when you were growing up, dude,
I was too young to remember all that stuff. I can barely
remember what happened in my own life, you know?
Our parents were dealing with their own issues back then.
It was a different world back then.
That whole generation--fresh from the war,
doing time in the state or federal system,
dealing with alcoholism, racism,
whatever was going on then.
They lived through the whole civil rights movement,
they were finally allowed to be Indian,
for the first time in their lives.
The whole pan-Indian movement swept across
the continent at that time.
They paved the way for us, and unfortunately,
they had to go through a lot of stuff just be able to say,
with pride, “I’m Indian.” It’s a heck of a lot easier for us,
but we still had to live through mom/dad and everyone else detoxing,
figuring out what the heck they were doing.
They took all kinds of crap out on you and me,
but that was what we did back in those days, you know?
It’s easy for me to sit here and tell you things will work out,
I didn’t go through what you went through.
But we gotta work it out for the next generation,
man. This isn’t about you or me, it’s about the kids—
and their kids, s@#%, seven generations, dude.
We gotta get it straight for all of them.
We gotta succeed despite all the crap that we been through,
show our kids a better way.
I haven’t always made the right choices,
haven’t always done the right thing either.
Dealt with my own substance abuse issues,
lost days and weeks to a drunken stupor,
but that’s done and over with.
Black Elk went through all kinds of crazy stuff,
but he made it out—he became a great spiritual leader,
despite all that stuff.
Maybe because of all that stuff.
He saw both sides—the good and the bad—
he saw the evil and stupidity that we’re all capable of.
He chose the good though, didn’t he? The “Red Road”.
We gotta start somewhere.
We can make something better for those that come after us.
Don’t give in to the stereotypes, the alcohol, whatever.
Don’t let those haters be right about you.
If we end up drunk and useless or in prison or dead,
then they win. I don’t want them to be right about us.
I want to prove them wrong.
I’m not the most compassionate person in the world,
and I don’t know all what you went through,
but don’t let that be the reason they win.
Don’t let that be the reason you gave up.
We’ll take care of what we need to take care of—
then move on. This is what it’s all about, now.
WE decide, WE make the changes.
It’s all about self-determination.
This is how we get out of poverty, alcoholism,
all that jazz. We have to succeed. You can do this—
there’s so many people counting on you to fail—
you HAVE to do this.
stream of consciousness
5/25/2006
Suffocating, can’t breathe.
Nothing, nothing, meaningless, empty.
Where’d I put that lip balm?
Just another addiction to soothe my damaged ego.
Emptiness, emptiness, nothing.
Wish I could breathe just now.
Tornado watch in effect, had a big storm yesterday.
My head’s been killing me.
Something about the change in barometric pressure,
I can always feel a storm coming.
Nada, nada, zilch, zero, nothing, no one.
Canker sore’s killing me.
Wanted to go skating, streets were too wet,
still drying off from yesterday’s deluge.
Rotting away, everyday closer to death,
sucking air, sucking wind.
Wish a tornado would knock my little shack over,
start from scratch.
Anything’s better than that overpriced hole that I can’t even afford.
Another ninety-day late to drag down my credit report.
Creditors calling my house every day, at all hours.
Nothing to say to them, so I don’t answer.
No money, except for some loosed change kicking around in the car.
The car that I didn’t make a payment on,
the one that hasn’t had insurance since last month.
The same one that needs a new something-or-other on the front passenger side,
I hear the hardware jiggling around every time I turn a corner or hit a pothole.
Shut up. Shut up. Drop dead. Go die. Stupid f@#$.
How the hell did it get to this point?
How the hell did it get so bad?
Emptiness, emptiness, whatever.
Who cares anyways?
If that storm comes, we’re going to be in deep trouble.
Stupid sump pump is busted. Basement’s gonna flood.
One nostril totally plugged, not getting enough oxygen, I’m sure.
Doesn’t seem fair, doesn’t seem right.
Shi’s dying and here I am bitchin about whatever.
I’m worth more dead than alive, nothing I can do right now . . .
Dying wouldn’t solve anything,
but it’s killing me to sit here and do nothing.
Maybe only the good die young,
cause here I am stilling kicking around,
Despite my intentions, despite my stupidity.
Sleep, need to sleep. Just want to sleep.
Shi, Shi, Shi, what a cruel life this can be.
Shi’s dad died when she was a baby, never even got to know him.
Her kids, her mom, Auntie S_ . . . what are they gonna do?
You don’t get what you need, don’t get what you deserve . . .
Not in this lifetime. Not in this plane of existence.
My creditors don’t seem to give a rat’sass about life and death or whatever.
Axed everyone I know for some zhooniya, getting turned down everywhere.
The bank, credit union, brother-in-law, you name it.
Zhooniya, zhooniya zhooniya.
Gonna kill the bastage that invented that crapola, for sure.
Starting to breathe a little better, Zyrtec must be kicking in.
Someone’s cooking ramen in the kitchen, chicken flavor.
Need to go to the Asian food mart, stock up on rice noodles and ramen.
Cheaper than dirt, too much MSG, shouldn’t be eating so much processed food.
Can’t afford nothing else. Can’t stomach anything else.
Rice, fish sauce and peppers.
All I want, all I need.
Nothing, Nada, Nil.
Here comes the rain. Here it comes again.
I love the rain. I love the rain.
Rain. Gimewaan. Fon-took.
Giichii Manido shii-shiik, so Z used to say.
It’s all shii-shiik, son. Shii-shiik and miizii.
Suffocating, can’t breathe.
Nothing, nothing, meaningless, empty.
Where’d I put that lip balm?
Just another addiction to soothe my damaged ego.
Emptiness, emptiness, nothing.
Wish I could breathe just now.
Tornado watch in effect, had a big storm yesterday.
My head’s been killing me.
Something about the change in barometric pressure,
I can always feel a storm coming.
Nada, nada, zilch, zero, nothing, no one.
Canker sore’s killing me.
Wanted to go skating, streets were too wet,
still drying off from yesterday’s deluge.
Rotting away, everyday closer to death,
sucking air, sucking wind.
Wish a tornado would knock my little shack over,
start from scratch.
Anything’s better than that overpriced hole that I can’t even afford.
Another ninety-day late to drag down my credit report.
Creditors calling my house every day, at all hours.
Nothing to say to them, so I don’t answer.
No money, except for some loosed change kicking around in the car.
The car that I didn’t make a payment on,
the one that hasn’t had insurance since last month.
The same one that needs a new something-or-other on the front passenger side,
I hear the hardware jiggling around every time I turn a corner or hit a pothole.
Shut up. Shut up. Drop dead. Go die. Stupid f@#$.
How the hell did it get to this point?
How the hell did it get so bad?
Emptiness, emptiness, whatever.
Who cares anyways?
If that storm comes, we’re going to be in deep trouble.
Stupid sump pump is busted. Basement’s gonna flood.
One nostril totally plugged, not getting enough oxygen, I’m sure.
Doesn’t seem fair, doesn’t seem right.
Shi’s dying and here I am bitchin about whatever.
I’m worth more dead than alive, nothing I can do right now . . .
Dying wouldn’t solve anything,
but it’s killing me to sit here and do nothing.
Maybe only the good die young,
cause here I am stilling kicking around,
Despite my intentions, despite my stupidity.
Sleep, need to sleep. Just want to sleep.
Shi, Shi, Shi, what a cruel life this can be.
Shi’s dad died when she was a baby, never even got to know him.
Her kids, her mom, Auntie S_ . . . what are they gonna do?
You don’t get what you need, don’t get what you deserve . . .
Not in this lifetime. Not in this plane of existence.
My creditors don’t seem to give a rat’sass about life and death or whatever.
Axed everyone I know for some zhooniya, getting turned down everywhere.
The bank, credit union, brother-in-law, you name it.
Zhooniya, zhooniya zhooniya.
Gonna kill the bastage that invented that crapola, for sure.
Starting to breathe a little better, Zyrtec must be kicking in.
Someone’s cooking ramen in the kitchen, chicken flavor.
Need to go to the Asian food mart, stock up on rice noodles and ramen.
Cheaper than dirt, too much MSG, shouldn’t be eating so much processed food.
Can’t afford nothing else. Can’t stomach anything else.
Rice, fish sauce and peppers.
All I want, all I need.
Nothing, Nada, Nil.
Here comes the rain. Here it comes again.
I love the rain. I love the rain.
Rain. Gimewaan. Fon-took.
Giichii Manido shii-shiik, so Z used to say.
It’s all shii-shiik, son. Shii-shiik and miizii.
11.11.2007
11/11
Cold cold cold when’s it gonna snow,
Not going to stick around,
At least I hope so,
Remains to be seen just when,
Just how this season pans out.
Getting antsy already and still November,
Don’t know how I’m gonna last this winter,
So we threw together some janky ramps,
We’ll save up and do a proper quarter-pipe,
To ward off the mid-winter blahs.
Novi park was sledge-hammered and bulldozed,
The rest collecting dust in storage,
So off to Grand Rapids and Kalamazoo,
The two nearest indoor joints,
We’ll pay them a visit and see what we can do.
A proper quarter for all of us to learn,
Practice those fakies and kickturns,
Just about did a manual or two,
But need to teach the muscles,
Burn it into memory for future use.
Mind over matter just like everything else,
Hey Z—you did it, wasn’t that easy,
Nothing to it/just gotta do it,
Now when you’re ready take it to the next level,
Fear is the enemy/fear is the devil.
These little victories along the way,
Learn and grow and keep on playing,
This life is too short to get to hung up,
To get rattled and distraught over small stuff,
But most of it is just small stuff my binojiinhs.
Little E was telling me about what he wants to be,
Not sure if he wants to be a great chef,
A baseball player/footballer/superhero,
Within reason/based in reality,
I told him that he can be whatever he wants to be.
Stop throwing up boundaries in your own way,
Open yourself to your life and seize the day,
Skate on the metaphysical transitions of life,
Carve and grind/pump and slash,
That’s what I really want you to learn.
That’s what’s been behind this whole thing,
From the very first time we went to the park,
It’s not just about the skating/but what’s in your heart,
To put yourself out there and learn a new skill,
To live in the moment/to fully enjoy the thrill.
Set your heart and set your mind,
Teach your body/ride out that grind,
Pop out onto the deck,
Testing the laws of physics,
Getting a healthy legal fix.
Push push push feel the wind on your face,
You decide how fast/you determine the pace,
Just like a long-distance runner,
It’s just you against yourself and the elements,
Somewhere out there beyond reason or sense.
Not going to stick around,
At least I hope so,
Remains to be seen just when,
Just how this season pans out.
Getting antsy already and still November,
Don’t know how I’m gonna last this winter,
So we threw together some janky ramps,
We’ll save up and do a proper quarter-pipe,
To ward off the mid-winter blahs.
Novi park was sledge-hammered and bulldozed,
The rest collecting dust in storage,
So off to Grand Rapids and Kalamazoo,
The two nearest indoor joints,
We’ll pay them a visit and see what we can do.
A proper quarter for all of us to learn,
Practice those fakies and kickturns,
Just about did a manual or two,
But need to teach the muscles,
Burn it into memory for future use.
Mind over matter just like everything else,
Hey Z—you did it, wasn’t that easy,
Nothing to it/just gotta do it,
Now when you’re ready take it to the next level,
Fear is the enemy/fear is the devil.
These little victories along the way,
Learn and grow and keep on playing,
This life is too short to get to hung up,
To get rattled and distraught over small stuff,
But most of it is just small stuff my binojiinhs.
Little E was telling me about what he wants to be,
Not sure if he wants to be a great chef,
A baseball player/footballer/superhero,
Within reason/based in reality,
I told him that he can be whatever he wants to be.
Stop throwing up boundaries in your own way,
Open yourself to your life and seize the day,
Skate on the metaphysical transitions of life,
Carve and grind/pump and slash,
That’s what I really want you to learn.
That’s what’s been behind this whole thing,
From the very first time we went to the park,
It’s not just about the skating/but what’s in your heart,
To put yourself out there and learn a new skill,
To live in the moment/to fully enjoy the thrill.
Set your heart and set your mind,
Teach your body/ride out that grind,
Pop out onto the deck,
Testing the laws of physics,
Getting a healthy legal fix.
Push push push feel the wind on your face,
You decide how fast/you determine the pace,
Just like a long-distance runner,
It’s just you against yourself and the elements,
Somewhere out there beyond reason or sense.
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