What happened to the days when America carried the torch to cast light on the way to freedom showing us the path to Liberty. “La Liberté éclairant le monde” … “Liberty Enlightening the World”… Nowadays it feels like we’re being told to hoard the light and condemn everyone that’s been pushed into the dark.

I was watching an episode of the Your Mom’s House (YMH) Podcast and Tom Segura and Christina P watch a video of a… young lady… explaining how she loves that her husband has a new girlfriend and that she is enjoying the New Relationship Energy (NRE). Christina cannot relate and Tom’s face watching both women’s faces gives me NRE (Nether Region Energy). Originally, my first thought is that I’m not a fan of the term “Open Relationship”. There’s something about it that feels like getting someone else’s sweat in my mouth, but not in a fun way.

I keep hearing about what a hero Caitlyn Jenner is. For what? Escaping the discomfort of being a rich white woman that lived most of her life in the body of a rich, world record setting male athlete? Seems like, in that situation, the only qualification for being a hero is being famous. It’s as if spectacle has been made the equivalent of spectacular.

I’m trying to climb up to the upper loft area because my pregnant friend has been dragged up there after one of my other friends has been cut into a mess. Before I can pull myself all the way up to the upper level, I can hear, and then see her stomach getting punched full of knife holes as I crawled up and over the edge.

I feel like a city with no gates. We approach to the percussion of hoof beats and city drums. The response returned with trumpets of hot breath and snorts. I sweat my anxiety and cherish my anger. That salty sweet spice, for to savor. Keep it tucked in my lip like a bit of dip. I let it soak into my blood and I spit every so often and sometimes I let it dribble down my chin. On my shirt it spreads like a Rorschach ink blot to be read by those not in my head. The ones that fancy themselves brain wrangling cowboys and sophisticated tamers and label-ers of my thoughts and actions.

Why do I love the taste of hate in my mouth? Because it’s the perfect seasoning to pain and fatigue. As much hate as I can devour, even more misery I can force on myself, and the more sexy my own blood looks to me. I devour as much as I can stand to consume. Who knows my total daily percentages? Anger or greed. I’m masking my tastes. My guilty pleasures. Guilty of what? Spinning in circles. I can’t decide, I can’t anything but… go.

Something I wrote as a free writing exercise during an art class I signed up for while I was in a military inpatient rehab program. I didn’t write a date but I would place it around July of 2013.

I wrote this a long while back. I think it was near the end of my time as a Mormon missionary. If not at that time, then some time soon after I had been sent home, so 2004-ish (found the old journal entry - 13 March 2004). I can’t remember where I dug it up from but my buddy (who will hopefully be doing some artwork for Hoogkin Ban Forum ;) ;)) had asked me to write something “angsty” that he could illustrate so I offered up this. Turns out it was more angry than angsty - laughing with tears emoji

Originally written 5 June 2020 when watching the military response to the George Floyd protests.

“Where Have All the Cowboys Gone” peaked at #8 on the Billboard Hot 100 in 1997, making it Paula’s only Top Ten hit song in the United States to date.