America, keep the Change

"You kill yourself to get to the grave before you even die, and the name of that grave is 'success', the name of that grave is hullaballoo boomboom horseshit." - Jack Kerouac


America, Ginsberg's dead and I lost my place in my book
because I was thinking about January 17, 1956 when
things were just about the same as they are now
America, you gave me a six year edificiation, education,
now I'm living with my parents again because
I keep seeing the ghosts of my grandparents
and they're saying things ain't so good
America, Ann Arbor, State Street, you make
me barf in my book bag, has it come to this?
You pave paradise and put up a new restaurant
called Quickie Burger and paint a sign with an Amazon woman
riding that sandwich spread eagle with a beer in her hand
America, give me some paint cans
I want to undo what you've done
Give that gal a burqa and a diploma and the Holy Grail
America, keep your amber fields and your homeland security
and your Clintons and Obamas and McCains and McDonalds
I'm gonna vote for the one who quotes Kerouac
America, you're not worthy of your own poets
America, if they could see you now
America, keep your fame-seekers framing
self-portraits as Christmas presents, tell him
to stay in bed and talk to Jesus
and maybe you should, too, America
stop spitting in your own eye
Or just blow yourself up already
I'll be in Germany, maybe
with my baby

Reflections on Self, Sadness and Incomplete Independence

The writing of autobiography requires the fearless acknowledgment and admission of one’s whole self. No stone should be left unturned, lest the work be incomplete or dishonest. One must uncover and expose the effects as well as the causes. One must empty the pockets. One must air the dirty laundry. One must dig, dig, dig. One must identify and categorize and come to conclusions. One must contextualize. One must compare and contrast. One must find meaning. One must be convinced that someone may give a damn about what one has found. One must have a lot of free time. One must be thorough and disciplined. One must have a sense of self-worth.

My journey began with identification. Identification became angle. Angle became lens. Lens became context. Context became content. Content became a category. Category became identity. Identity became angle. Angle became lens, etc. etc. etc. My research had exposed me to a wealth of autobiographical work by artists, performers, and writers who were able to find value in the results of their soul pap smear. The work I’d studied was elevated from this stale frame of identity and angle by virtue of meeting all of those aforementioned requirements.

The writing of autobiography requires the fearless acknowledgement and admission of one’s whole self, even if that whole self is a pair of volatile poles. The causes are the effects are the causes. The laundry may be clean, but it will be dirty again. Identification is unstable and water-soluble. Conclusions are never conclusive. Context is relative. Meaning is depressing. Someone will always give a damn. Free time has to come when it’s ready. Discipline cannot be dictated. Self-worth does not gain interest.