The Chronicles of a Lost Southerner

This is not where it began, and I sure don’t know how the story ends, so thanks be due as we wake to another dawn. The orbit is the same, the path unchanged, but this day of thanksgiving comes around faster and faster each year. Where I am sitting on Spaceship Earth the speed of repeat is blazing by the further I get from my birth. Another year older, another year thankful to have my eternal self still cloaked in dirt on this side of eternity. How thankful I am each year to put ink to the blank page -- for good or ugly -- this pilgrimage seeks truth in an age of fairy tales. I hold a pen in my hand like a flashlight illuminating another journey through The Chronicles of a Lost Southerner.

Living in the now is living in a space between creative licensing and sober hallucinations, where history is modeling clay and future is at best a maybe. The once calming musician’s verse playing the songs of progress across this land can barely be heard over the maddening shrieks of the herd. A herd of two legged swine wallowing in the pasture of weak mindedness, surrounded by well fertilized crops growing in only the best guano. The harvests are plentiful year round. Sooooey! Eat up little piggy. Never satisfied, the handheld feed-trough of digital consumption has an endless supply for the herd. Hell, the wild beast has more humanity… ceasing once full to preserve for tomorrow. A crazy time for a crazy land.

If crazy were whiskey, then the drinks would be cheap. I can handle crazy out in the streets, clothed in tattered rags arguing with the unseen. But I won’t chance the well-dressed crazy with an appetite for military grade pharmaceuticals and a high tolerance to public ridicule. The type of crazy holding office -- hands over their heart, in three piece suits, and adorned with legitimizing American flag lapel pins. We are raising our leaders in the image of ourselves. Monocessationism and lacking depth perception. In the abundance of proof, the fool is eyes wide blind in all efforts to celebrate a triumph of conviction over experience. The sane gotta stick together, because we only have each other to thrive in the belly of the beast.

May we hold tight the love ones in our lives, may we constantly recall the ones who have left us, and may we celebrate giving darkness the slip one more day. Yesterday is truly gone, we are face to face with today, and staring down tomorrow’s grey leap. Only take serious things serious to avoid the hangman’s noose of self-righteousness. The sweet fruit’s taste of human kinship turns to sour aftertaste when we inhale the fragrances of self. If not careful, the creature will control the creator. Fight the behaviors, mindsets, attitudes, and thoughts that may vandalize our race. The only race that ever mattered… The human race.

Jarvis

Be Pro-Choice… Always choose life. Let’s end wholesale genocide of the unborn.