A Heartfelt “Thank You”

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My friend left us today. I don’t know what to say, or what one is supposed to say, to make any of it better. I’m sure I’d screw it up anyway. What I will do is give him what I owe him: “thank you” from the bottom of my heart for what I witnessed with my own two eyes.

Shem Kellogg was one of the early giants in the New Hampshire liberty movement. I’ve heard he did a lot for the Ron Paul campaign. I know him from the Free State Project. When I was still living in Phoenix and wanted to acquire FSP literature to pass out, he was my point of contact. When I went to a Young Americans for Liberty conference in California in early 2013 to promote the FSP, Andrew Vermiglio, who has since joined us in New Hampshire, was there too, with a bunch of flyers Shem had shipped out to him. When I finally met Shem later that year, it was through going to conferences to promote the FSP. [Read more…]

Welcome to New Hampshire, Slow Children

Victory_Park,_Manchester,_New_Hampshire

My professor keeps talking. About the importance of punctuation?
I think spelling. And grammar are more important?
She? Puts way too much. Emphasis on…punctuation
I should have went? When the class ended,
but the nearest restroom was designated only to be used by pregnant elderly children and the disabled.
I ran into some friends I made. At my freshman orientation, they asked me how I liked university life
I excitedly replied I love fucking college guys!!!!
After, school I went to a nearby.
Restaurant and was told I’d start my meal with breadsticks and my table. Was ready in seconds?
But I changed my mind about eating. At the restaurant, I thought, of an excuse…to leave.
I told the waiter, “Sorry my stomach is not feeling well. I cannot eat diarrhea.”
I don’t often..Go to restaurants: alone. [Read more…]

A Monument to Futility

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The byproduct of LBJ’s Great Society, I was born in the 60s,
and built on the notion of somehow helping the poor
by cramming them into a single location

With the Civil Rights Movement came the political will
to help the impoverished and disenfranchised.
Or at least that was the narrative
that was spoonfed to the masses

I’ve seen newborns brought home from the hospital
and young men taken too soon,
my floors chilled from their spilled blood [Read more…]

This Poem Is Not About Eating Meat

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Another day, another dollar,
as my blade sinks into the clammy flesh
of the carcass of a creature murdered in an assembly line.
Just grabbing a hunk of pork through my gloved fingers
makes my skin crawl.
The only thing more disgusting than handling this corpse?
Knowing that people will eventually eat of it,
lick their lips, and ask for more.
Such is the plight of the town’s only vegan butcher.

I avoid animal consumption — opting instead for alternatives —
for the simple reason of: garbage in, garbage out.
The only cut I recommend is none

But I wasn’t always the town’s only vegan butcher.
For I once savored this job and was the happiest butcher in the world.
I once loved the taste of meat. The feeling of it between my teeth.
I greedily devoured one cadaver after another,
or as I used to call it, “pleasures of the flesh”.

I grew up eating meat and saw others doing the same
So it never occurred to me to reject what everyone else enjoyed
Until the day I visited a slaughterhouse
and for the first time I saw the murder in the meat.
[Read more…]

Trigger Blessing

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Triggers are good, and rather than avoid reliving intense experiences, we should embrace them.

Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way and started at the thrilling conclusion, let’s go back and explore the counterintuitive idea that it’s a good idea to embrace the sources of our deepest pain.

The trigger, the beloved bogeyman of social justice warriors eager for a justification to shut down contrarian discourse, nonetheless represents something real. Traumatic experiences, once past, are buried deep within the furthest recesses of our persistent memory, locked away safe and far from our present mind. Triggers are the keys to the holding cells of the brain, threatening to release whatever rampaging monster of pain we keep locked away.

[Read more…]

The Sweetness of Severance

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Loss can become addictive.

Humans do not strive for adversity. Our deepest longings are for love, fulfillment, prosperity, and security, while the pervasive cancer that is our fear is nourished by the prospect of the loss of those things. This fear of loss drives us to success, but can also paralyze us, leaving us unable to embark upon the long and treacherous path of risk. Yet, burning bridges to the treasured aspects of one’s life can become a bit of a drug.

There is a certain air of masochism to the whole affair. For those who have become accustomed to loss, its familiarity can be a source of comfort in uncertain times. It is what we deserve, the only purpose for our wretched existence. Loss is pain, though pain without fear, and fear can be more agonizing than pain itself.

A fatalistic approach to loss can also prove attractive. Cynicism is empowering, as it gives us control over dark circumstances. Predicting with success brings a feeling of pride and accomplishment, and in times of difficulty, the predestination of pain is paradoxically uplifting. Through the power of the self-fulfilling prophecy, even the dullest among us can become wizards. [Read more…]