Eh-hem! Excuse me, ma’am. Can I offer some mayhem? Is there much room in your world view for mushrooms or a new purview? Does new perfume mask hurt too? Ask her too Does she judge you? It appears peers do So we gotta pierce through And realize it’s all lies; from Buddha to Jesus No one can free us; It comes from within From all to one, where ends begin Everyone’s suffering Everyone’s thirsty Everyone's lonely Everyone’s thirty Everyone’s doing their absolute best every Goddamn day So unplug from the fucking machine and just say “Hey…I Love You.”

Ellie was a little baby; Grown into a little girl Soon she'll be a little lady, In a not so very little world. Boy oh boy, there are big ol' concepts; big ol' mountains; big ol' joys But don't be fooled by all the chaos Most of it will just be noise For instance: Sometimes good people will say bad things And sometimes "bad" is just mislabelling. Sometimes "good" things are done by questionable means Don't succumb! You don't have to pick teams. But always remember your parents love you And look out for you everyday And even though your Uncle Andrew Lives so very far away He loves you too And thinks your pretty coo We'll always be on your team. No matter how crazy you may ever seem. So Elliot, For your third birthday, here's what you get; a book made on the internet! What a time to be alive Let's see what's next at four and then what's next at five… Though, at any point throughout the ages If things feel silly, or outrageous You can stop to find yourself within these pages Love Uncle Andrew

Day 7. Bluetooth headphones trickle ambient piano. Ginsberg, Burroughs, electric Himalayan salt lamp, day old roach; dry mouth Sore neck; thin yellow bean bag chair the culprit. Unscented IKEA candle on its last legs - now used as an ashtray. Heart pounds out marijuana paranoia. Time to move. Generic exercise mat slides around on laminate floor. Bleach-stained purple t-shirt; no one cares anymore. Trusty Green Nalgene. Stay hydrated. Writing this poem. Phone that I check too much. Building a regimen. Day 8. Improv guitar ditties. Two tokes off a one-hitter. Tastes like tin. Orange amp, orange couch; orange you glad you're not alone? Plants are dying 'cause too much sun's been shining. It's weird how it's like that. Two empty cannabis canisters Alymer Nelson offers 10% off for recycling but I can't go to the store anymore.

I’m amorous But not amoral Supercilious But still feel horrible Sunk costs Creep up slow But the last straw An ass knows We clamour again I give you a speech You want my hand I want my leash The guilt prolongs But so does the pull I should spot red flags But I’m not able

There once was a loon You've all heard her tune She'd circle the lake at night 'Till a bit later on She couldn't prolong Something that she knew was right This call from below - A constant bellow - Told her to do what she soon did But it came with a cost Not just the mother was lost For there still remained a loon kid He grieved a months' worth of days A fixed, yet soft gaze And willingly let the thoughts churn him Watching the water just flow Like Muir or Thoreau Helped him ponder what few come to terms with He learned the lake doesn't care It's neither here nor there So why then is this unique? If he wants only his mother And nothing else other Then what's left to circle or seek? That night he plunged to the depths With no hint of regrets To return the embrace of the pond Perhaps buried in black There's nothing to lack But you can't know until you are gone Suddenly, a man on the shore Who could stand by no more Leapt up and sped to the rescue He strove in the lagoon With a big wooden spoon Fighting back cold and the fescue Then dove deep as he could For he felt it was good To help out this poor drowning soul Though driven by valliance You can't tip the balance If nature refuses the goal He reached the spoon out To fish the loon out But it wasn't as he had assumed it The bird doth reject The man gawked, perplexed For he knew not what the wounded loon did See, the moon could not show All 'twas hidden below But the view of the bird's eyes illumined Can't fall for the trap For there's not such a gap Between this loon n' human

Round after round of burnt diner coffee while sitting arm in arm with friends in a scruffy booth. Late. I love the little mugs. Passing a joint in a mall parking lot before seeing the next juggernaut Avengers Movie. I have countless saliva siblings. Swapping songs on a small stage then talking at kissing distance about the next hopeful project Also sometimes kissing. Crossing invisible borders to see family. “We’re all in this together.” Smiling at strangers. Not just eye squinting. And then...Covid. And Netflix. And Apathy. And Zoom... I don't care if they said the same thing about every new technology; this will be the end of humanity. 14 Billion Years of incomprehensible majesty. We get one short go at a physical body. The only guarantees are death and suffering. And yet, the majority, incorrigible attitude, is to stay safe. Our entire generation will be marred by the universal epitaph, "Stayed Safe." How inspiring...

I try to pray every night. I have to start reading the Bible more. but I enjoy going to church. I am trying to race money for chiridie and humans. I want you Lord to always be the Lord. I hop my dog when my dog barcks we can understand what she is trying to tell us. I injoy going to church alot. I like praying. I like sing ing the songs and I like reading the books. I am sad that rudy died last night. please make me feel better. from Andrew D.

Two days of blinding whiteout Visibility mere meters It's February Above Superior ...Still, the pandemic Entire towns, shut down Sheltered in place "staying safe" There's never been an off-season like this In a spotty motel, the bed bugs are ravenous I see a coyote through the window He doesn't get to go inside I think about that sometimes… Instead, he stocks the shore a red-stained coat exudes triumph Satisfied, he curls up on the lee side of a snow drift - raising his head periodically What does he think about? Does anything torment him? I'm beckoned to venture into the elements there's an primal energy in the ambivalent winds I stay until my internal alarm sounds: Seek shelter immediately but I don't listen For here I stand on the precipice Feeling like the inverse of Icarus

Tent: Woke up but stayed in down sleeping bag cocoon. Read Bukowski. Jerked off to the pitter-patter rhythm of the rain. Later: Swam naked in the lake while the loon watched; laughed. It's cold here but there's a warmth in the aesthetic. These mountains, the lake, the woods; they were here well before me and they'll be here long after. And if I pack out my garbage, they'll hardly know I stopped by at all. Departure: I see the fallen logs make for the river. They get clogged up in a self-made dam I guess everything wants to escape. Either flock to or flee the Lake.

Just because you can Doesn't mean you should Just because your neighbours do Doesn't mean it's good Think of the resources Think of the impact Of your ventures And how they’ve taken; Created those who have nothing I'm not saying you didn't earn it I know you worked hard But the chasm between the haves and have-nots Is not easily narrowed We must volunteer ourselves To the venture of empathy And fighting ignorance Whether you walk the primrose path the eightfold path the red path or any other earnest path, I implore you, Find some deeper structure that can destroy your greed idol. It's not real and your winnings will lead you to lose Just look around... Physical wealth only consumes. Impacting the entire, inescapably connected system. And despite your yearning, despite your ego, Nothing can grant more life than community *** I propose this metric for appropriately sized living quarters: Make sure you can maintain it, just on your own Chores preserve humility and moderation. The way of a monk is not a burden. It’s a life sought, intentionally, for good reason. Saying, excess comfort is the thief of purpose, of growth, of contentedness. Jesus, Buddha, the Creator of Turtle Island, They all warn against this. Whether your higher power is above or within, Worldly riches are treason. I can’t help but notice that alcohol dominates both the downtrodden and bourgeois. Why? The former is obvious So for the latter, it’s either boredom, habit, or maybe something more insidious. Have you been unknowingly cursed by an excess of gifts? Then take back your spiritual sovereignty. Rage Rebel Renounce Restore There's still time, ye old mansion and second summer home dwellers. Reduce life to its basic components, give the surplus to those outside your immediate community, and take the first steps away from samsara.

I'm gonna eat your finger!

Today, Someone stole my shoes Whoever it was Must have issues I could get mad But good riddance May they bless you with A New Cadence

Peers preach You must speak But only reiterations no room for personal ruminations even if you see things differently even if you wanna help in different ways you don't understand just take a knee with the "decolonized" colony I worry when buzz terms are co-opted as inherently righteous And then to refrain from certain participation suggests to many, a propensity for discrimination and, somehow, violence… Just 'cause it rhymes and fits on a sign doesn't mean you should align Look, I relate to a lot We're on the same team But you draw the party lines a little too tightly The way I see it, we don't need more boundaries I think infinite subdivision leads not to unity, but further separatism We don't need scapegoats that's just old school, religious attempts at catharsis. I think just honest, compassionate reality is plenty. Better to encourage genuine intentions that stem from welcomed participation and then combine that with evidence-based methodology. Unfortunately, at least one of these is largely lacking with woke, political identity. For starters, virtue signalling. It's so puritanical. Enough with the plumage. It's superficial and self-serving. I’m tired of the sycophants; that's the opposite of respect. And we gotta unpack some intellectual inconsistencies... Here's one that bugs me: of black, white, yellow, brown and red which are considered proper? which are so-so? And which are incredibly offensive? Are there things that you'd say about one that you would never say about another? Do you sort of whisper some and confidently state others? Why? History is partial so be careful. The path from an "-ism” to an “-iviledge” has proven to be a minefield. There are now entire cultures with complicated backstories that are grossly lumped into the most visually adjacent category. Why do some social constructs demand infinite specificity while others are approached haphazardly? For instance, calling Jews "White" is probably no better than misgendering someone. And yet this hypocritical system is celebrated. Well not by me. Those who shout privilege and fragility Are elitist and condescending Perhaps in 10-20 years our successors will agree. For the goal posts shift constantly And any side can go extreme In the meantime, I don't have to hate my skin to be accepting I don't have to be ashamed of my home to build a new one I don't have to disown my family to love you better We can just move forward. As we have been. And as we'll continue to. Secondly: Cancel Culture. I think it's unfair to boil an entire person, artist, entertainer, historical figure, intellectual, or cartoon!, down into what you perceive, through a certain lens, to be their worst mistakes. Have you ever said something in a conversation that you wanted to retroactively edit? Maybe you thought about it later in the day while doing dishes? Ya, me too. All the time Now imagine publishing something. Imagine doing a live interview on a major platform. Or even just imagine trying to post your actual opinion instead of strategically regurgitating what you think society wants to hear. And then add an entire internet worth of people trying to catch a "gotcha" slip up in order to forward their own personal brand or fortify their social armour. It’s fake and empty and pointlessly cynical. We should be more charitable to the people who are brave enough to stand naked before the world with something intentional to say. It's really hard. And all that assumes that these targets are objectively and irredeemably wrong in the first place. Are you absolutely sure that the passage of time will not further distort your moral standards? Are you SO SURE you’re right that you actively want to censor these people and their content from the eyes and ears of the masses? And here's the thing… If you make unnecessary enemies then you further thin out minorities But to swing the tide peacefully You need more people to support, willingly Thirdly; Censorship. I believe that honesty is one of the most important things. It's what we give to the people that we respect. We should all be motivated by authenticity That way everyone knows what everyone else is bringing to the table And we can establish a concrete, symbiotic, yin-yang balance of human society. Love will be required But so will thicker skin This is particularly necessary when it comes to art. Art is not meant to prescribe, only describe. It might happen to do both but art cannot be expected to conform to ever-changing social norms. Art is a teacher, but not your fucking school teacher! Art is not your parents. Art is not your Prime Minister. Art is not the Devil. Art is Beautiful, even when it's Terrifying. Making art, for me, Is inserting a narrative into a personal history The details of the art are lies - they're created! So we need not get caught up in those strings You cannot censor art You censor art Please, just let it be. It's supposed to challenge us. It's supposed to use hyperbole It's supposed to be evoking It's supposed to be . Absolutely. I have always viewed censorship as a massive weakness Sometimes it's a fascist government It used to be the pious conservatives - back when it was the beats, freaks, hippies and MCs. And now it's the authoritarian left. There's always a moral justification There are always subjective standards of sensitivity But it's always the same outcome So don't act like you're special *** All that being said, I think it's great that so many people are rummaging about, trying to figure out who they wanna be and what they stand for. I'll do my best to acknowledge that in however way you inform me is important to you. You can reimagine percussion and I can just chug away on the toms and we can still have a great jam session We're not here for long It's all Love. But, if I feel overly encroached upon (i.e. who I am or the things I like) then I will erect fair and reasonable boundaries and I will do my best to voice candid criticisms of what I feel are flawed and often mean-spirited approaches. So when it comes to your own life, if it makes you feel good, great! That's awesome. Do your thing. Just don't force others to play in your sandbox. And if I can kick over your castle in the first place, then maybe there's something to be dug for in the foundation. Maybe there's some kick-ass, Gobekli Tepe type discovery to be made within yourself. Something rooted so securely that it can stand on its own, without the forced participation or uniform agreement of others. Because even if you win, that approach won't foster a viable environment. It's hard to walk a new path if it's littered with eggshells. Like most people, I struggle with anxiety. And I get pretty uncomfortable in socially coercive circles. Sorry. But if you're all about Love and curiosity and introspection and generosity then I'm all about you; no matter what you look like or who you do or don't wanna bang. I guess that's it for now. That's just what I see. For more information check out: McWhorter, Pinker, Goggins and Harari

Tomo, you’re a hoot The Maloka you loot And find a flute You two perfectly suit. Gave it a daily toot And made my worries moot At the end of ceremony; cute I didn’t record it. shoot! For soon my memory will boot But I’ll always remember you (t)

Day 7. Bluetooth headphones trickle ambient piano. Ginsberg, Burroughs, electric Himalayan salt lamp, day old roach; dry mouth Sore neck; thin yellow bean bag chair the culprit. Unscented IKEA candle on its last legs - now used as an ashtray. Heart pounds out marijuana paranoia. Time to move. Generic exercise mat slides around on laminate floor. Bleach-stained purple t-shirt; no one cares anymore. Trusty Green Nalgene. Stay hydrated. Writing this poem. Phone that I check too much. Building a regimen. Day 8. Improv guitar ditties. Two tokes off a one-hitter. Tastes like tin. Orange amp, orange couch; orange you glad you're not alone? Plants are dying 'cause too much sun's been shining. It's weird how it's like that. Two empty cannabis canisters Alymer Nelson offers 10% off for recycling but I can't go to the store anymore.