United States
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Book Memory # 1: On The Justice of Roosting Chickens
Ten years ago, I picked up On the Justice of Roosting Chickens by Ward Churchill because I was twenty, felt disenfranchised and was a budding conspiracy theorist and forbidden literature was to me what Nutella is to hipsters with toast. I never felt we deserved the atrocities that befell our nation on 11 September 2001, Continue reading
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“If we shadows have offended”
Conspiracy theorists are a lot alike religious nut jobs in the sense they’re fucking annoying. Nothing pleases these people, nothing real anyway. Any evidence thrown their way is automatically tossed aside and chalked up to lizard people meddling in to blind us from the truth. Meanwhile, the truth is biting them in the ass and Continue reading
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“I Believe”
We have these books in the department, a nonfiction series entitled You Wouldn’t Want to. The titles vary from being sick or living during a certain points in history. I can’t help but to think that, somewhere along the line, the company will publish one called You Wouldn’t Want to be a Homosexual in 21st Century Continue reading
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Enter Title Here
There have been times where I’m convinced that my mind is anything but well. I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard the rule of thumb–if you have to ask, then you’re not crazy. Still, there are times when I find myself thinking crazy things. Instead of acting on every whim, I write them down and Continue reading
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“Don’t go fucking yourself in the foot”
Caveat: This post contains racist slurs I do not endorse. It talks about rape. It does not follow any linear format. Somewhere around five or six, ballpark figure. Young. A child. Not the sort of person to shy away from a stranger, which is something both rewarding and deadly. She grabs a Junie B. Jones Continue reading
Chapin City Blues 