He who would be free must himself strike the blow — Frederick Douglass

Category: post-migration (Page 4 of 10)

The house is old

I sit in another house whose character is
just now forming as we live here &
dust & scrub & clean & wash windows or
just live together now our enemies have gone


– enemies because that’s what friends become
sometimes when they leave us or we leave them
& cast one another out of our lives like
leaves cluttering the lawn, the grass gone too.


–because we are sometimes difficult to live with.
we gossip sometimes & tear one another into
tiny rags we wear in preference to warm clothing


—furs & scruffy rugs made into hair boas
(like snakes) to wrap around us in the dark.


– enemy is not a word of hate, it’s what we call
our lovers when we don’t love them any more


now they’ve rejected us, we live here,
we think of the other house.
the house is old.


it’s like an old person we are getting to know
for the first time, or the second


above the house a hawk dives down 
for a mouse beside the pond, beside
the garden, the rosa rugosa, the
blackberries, beside the house where
the faggots live with their friends.

Ron Schreiber

Rain

years passed by
You don’t know on my mind
I wished things could go back to the
Normal days, summer nights
What’s on your mind
Moving on ain’t always easy

Oh

When the rain start tumbling down
I wish I could turn back the hands of time for a little while

Oh

Nights like this I wish the rain would stop coming down
Coming down tonight

Hair turned grey, hearts grew cold
Bitter leaves are meant to heal now 
In your case its not that way I do hope
There will be a day
Where you will learn to love me again

Oh

When the rain start tumbling down
I wish I could turn back the hands of time
For a little while

Nights like this I wish the rain would stop coming down
Coming down tonight

What happened to that day
Where love would carry away
All the untimely rain and pain
What happened to the sun
I’m praying all the rain has gone

And I’m praying we’ll forever feel like its a sunny day
 
Oh When the rain start tumbling down I wish I could turn back the hands of time for a little while

Nights like this I wish the rain would stop coming down

Coming down tonight

— Nicole Bus, Rain

Essential Jobs

I had a trippy apocalyptic dream:

People were calling 911 to complain about Armageddon and a bored dispatcher replied “Sometimes the planet just deserves it.”

Lady Liberty

Hovering over the waters and watching civilization being built over and over again:

The dead rising from their graves.

The others, picking up shovels and helping dig.

Cities being built and destroyed.

And built and destroyed.

And built and destroyed again.

I’m like, this is taking a long time — why is this necessary?

Every single time, I watch an angry and ancient goddess who looks like the Statue of Liberty , rising out of the ground and destroying civilizations and men.

They attack her and she smites them all.

They try to bury her.

They try to encapsulate her in concrete.


But over and over and over again , she rises and demolishes everyone and everything in her path.

The people are black and white.

They have outdoor ceremonies.

Sometimes they worship Lady Liberty. And they are smitten again.

Sometimes it’s more peaceful and productive.

Then I’m starting to realize the purpose she serves:

To slay wicked civilizations and men who harm the earth and her people.

Hell: An Exhibit

I was excited to get to go see The Exhibit.

I already knew the punch line: We’d realize we were already dead and in Hell.

I have no pants on.

I kept getting kicked to the back of the line, only to be met with escalating and conflicting demands for methods of proving that I’d paid my admission price.

The first exhibit was the kitchen:

A dazed and distressed young woman who looked like a startled zombie paced back and forth mindlessly from the coffee maker to the fridge to rummage for something to eat.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

Back to the coffee maker: Have to go to work.

Back to the fridge: Rummage, rummage, rummage.

And so on.

A pile of chocolate chip cookies, soft batch, sweet and rotten, stacked high to the ceiling on the counter with flies buzzing everywhere around it.

Feed your addiction.

Eat the sugar.

Make that coffee.

Punch that clock.

Bring your ass back to the refrigerator and rummage and rummage and rummage all you want, you will never find anything in there that feeds the hunger inside of you.

A member of the audience giggles and claps her hands, bravo!

She says, “They might be in hell, but they’ve made it beautiful if they are.”

I mimicked the zombie faces of the woman trapped in the kitchen.

Go to work.

Caffienate up.

Feed my addictions.

This pissed of one of the people running the exhibit and they came to bounce me out.

I said “oh please! I’m fascinated and I haven’t even seen half of it!”

They grinned.

I asked “where’s my backpack?”

I was no longer carrying my load.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

None of it mattered.

Allelula. Allelula. Allelula.

None of it mattered now.

Time’s Up

[The time had come]

We laid down in our positions holding our glowing cards up.

I hid mine under the blanket, not wanting to display mine or be seen.

[A portal in the wall opened up for each player like the end of a video game, asking us: Continue or start over as a new player?]

If you started over as a new player, you picked your geographical region. For example:

Wisconsin needs 40,000 people.

But I warn you, you could be immediately victimized by the impending industrial revolution.

Want to play?

[Good News]:

You don’t have to.

[The righteous will never have to play this game again this time.]

No sooner could we celebrate — Wisconsin had heavy representation in this game and we were about to proudly nail our license plates to the wall to show everyone — Lots of plates from Wisconsin —

We were in for one more show.

We were in a cafe now and an older woman was being rude to her customers, refusing service to some. At first we thought maybe she was racist or didn’t like young people or ————

Reactions are mixed.

Uncertain about how to handle this one I turned to someone and asked them “what should we do?”

The moral of the story:

Wait awhile and observe her.

The results?

She is the same way to whoever comes in the door , whether it is one customer or 100.

So no, she isn’t racist.

Or against young people

Or against the “otherness” in front of her.

She is just that way towards everyone.

She falls down.

People step back , stunned at what is happening right now.

Isn’t this supposed to be over now?

Is she dying?

Why?

What the – ?

A man steps in to perform chest compressions and try to save her even though nobody liked her.

Someone laughs.

I say “that is not funny!”

She dies.

Poof she disappears through the wall leaving a tiny V shaped print with two tufts of hair, it almost looks like a tacky little string bikini on the wall, something vulgar, something – I don’t know, vaginal.

Someone chuckles and says , that must have been a tight fit.

Poof, she comes back and she’s laughing with us.

She is okay now.

No one is in trouble.

We just needed to learn one more thing before we were on our way:

It is okay to not know what to do about a situation.

It is okay to ask someone what to do, if you don’t know what to do.

Even better though if you step up and do it.

Like that gentleman who performed the chest compressions on her even though she seemed dreadful.

Sipapu Decides

Do you wish to be eaten by the Sipapu?

Yes please.

Cleanse this wicked planet of anything that doesn’t belong here. Even if I’m one of those things.

Flashback: I Call You Murderers, An Open Letter to an Incompetent Idiot, Dr Anthony Fauci , Village Voice 5/31/1988

I Call You Murderers, An Open Letter to an Incompetent Idiot, Dr Anthony Fauci

Reprinted from the Village Voice May 31,1988.

I have been screaming at the National Institutes of Health since I first visited your Animal House of Horrors in 1984. I called you monsters then and I called you idiots in my play, The Normal Heart, and now I call you murderers.
You are responsible for supervising all government-funded AIDS treatment research programs. In the name of right, you make decisions that cost the lives of others. I call that murder.
At hearings on April 29 before Representative Ted Weiss and his House Subcommittee on Human Resources, after almost eight years of the worst epidemic in modem history perhaps to be the worst in all history, you were pummeled into admitting publicly what some of us have been claiming since you took over three years ago.
You admitted that you are an incompetent idiot.
Over the past four years, $374 million has been allocated for AIDS treatment research. You were in charge of spending much of that money.
It doesnt take a genius to set up a nationwide network of testing sites, commence a small number of moderately sized treatment efficacy tests on a population desperate to participate in them, import any and all interesting drugs (now numbering approximately 110) from around the world for inclusion in these tests at these sites, and swiftly get into circulation anything that remotely passes muster. Yet, after three years, you have established only a system of waste, chaos, and uselessness.
It doesn’t take a genius to announce that you have elected to personally supervise the study of a broad range of new drugs. Yet, two years later, you are forced to admit you’ve barely begun. It doesn’t take a genius to request, as you did, 126 new staff persons, receive only 11, and then keep your mouth shut about it.
It takes an incompetent idiot.
To quote Representative Henry Waxman at the above hearings: Dr. Fauci, your own drug selection committee has named 24 drugs as high priority for development and trials. As best as I can tell, 11 of these 24 are not in trials yet. Six of these drugs have been waiting for six months to more than a year. Why the delays? I understand the need to do what you call setting priorities but it appears even with your own scientists’ choices the trials are not going on.
Your defense? There are just confounding delays that no one can help…we are responsible as investigators to make sure that in our zeal to go quickly, that we do the clinical study correctly, that it’s planned correctly and executed correctly, rather than just having the drag distributed.
Now you come bawling to Congress that you don’t have enough staff, office space, lab space, secretaries, computer operators, lab technicians, file clerks, janitors, toilet paper; and that’s why the drugs arent being tested and the network of treatment centers isnt working and the drug protocols aren’t in place. You expect us to buy this bullshit and feel sorry for you. You fucking son of a bitch of a dumb idiot, you have had $374 million and you expect us to buy this garbage bag of excuses!
The gay community has been on your ass for three years. For 36 agonizing months, you refused to go public with what was happening (correction: not happening), and because you wouldn’t speak up until you were asked pointedly by a congressional committee, we lie down and die and our bodies pile up higher and higher in hospitals and homes and hospices and streets and doorways.
Meanwhile, drugs we have been begging that you test remain untested. The list of promising untested drugs is now so endless and the pipeline so clogged with NIH and FDA bureaucratic lies that there is no Roto-Rooter service in All God’s Christendom that will ever muck it out.
You whine to Congress that you are short of staff. You don’t need staff to set up hospital treatment centers around the country. The hospitals are already there. They hire their own staff. They only need money. You have money. You have $374 million fucking dollars, for Christ’s sake.
The gay community has, for five years, told the NIH which drugs to test because we know and hear first what is working on some of us somewhere. You couldn’t cares less about what we say. You won’t answer our phone calls or letters, or listen to anyone in our stricken community. What tragic pomposity!
The gay community has consistently warned that unless you move quickly your studies will be worthless because we re already taking drugs into our bodies that we desperately locate all over the world (who can wait for you?!!!), and all your scientific protocols are stupidly based on utilizing guinea-pig bodies that are clean. You wouldn’t listen, and now you wonder why so few sign up for your meager assortment of scientific protocols that make such rigid demands for purity that no one can fulfill them, unless they lie. And why should those who can obtain the drugs themselves take the chance of receiving a placebo in one of your scientific studies?
How many years ago did we tell you about aerosol pentamidine, Tony? This stuff saves lives. And we discovered it ourselves. We came to you, bearing this great news on a silver platter, begging you: can we get it officially tested; can we get it approved so insurance companies and Medicaid will pay for it (as well as other drugs we beg you to test) as a routine treatment, and our patients going broke paying for medicine can get it cheaper? You monster.
Assume that you have AIDS, and that you’ve had pneumonia once, Representative Nancy Pelosi said. You know that aerosolized pentamidine was evaluated by NIH as highly promising…You know as of today that the delays in NIH trials…may not be solved this year.. .Would you wait for [an NIH] study?
You replied: I probably would go with what would be available to me, be it available in the street or what have you. We tell you what the good drugs are, you don’t test them, then you tell us to get them on the streets. You continue to pass down word from On High that you dont like this drug or that drug when you havent even tested them. There are more AIDS victims dead because you didn’t test drugs on them than because you did.
You’ve yet to test imuthiol, AS 101, dextran sulfate, DHEA, Imreg-1, Erythropoietin all drugs Gay Men’s Health Crisis considers top priority. You do like AZT, which consumes 80 per cent of your studies, even though Dr. Barry Gingell, GMHC’s medical director, now describes AZT as a cumulative poison…foisted on the public. Soon there will be more AIDS patients dead because you did test drugs on them the wrong drugs.
ACT UP was formed over a year ago to get experimental drugs into the bodies of patients. For one year ACT UP has tried every kind of protest known to man (short of putting bombs in your toilet or flames up your institute) to get some movement in this area. One year later, ACT UP is still screaming for the same drugs they begged and implored you and youi world to release. One year of screaming, protesting, crying, cajoling, lobbying, threatening, imprecating,
(Continued on page 3)
marching, testifying, hoping, wishing, praying has brought nothing. You don’t listen. No one listens. No one has ears. Or hearts.
Whose ass are you covering for, Tony? (Besides your own). Is it the head of your Animal House, the invisible Dr. James Wyngaarden, director of the National Institute of Health (and may a Democratic president get him out of office fast)? Is it Dr. Vincent De-Vita, head of the National Cancer Institute, another invisible murderer who lets you be his fall guy? Or Dr. Otis Bowen, secretary of the Department of Health and Human Services, no doubt the biggest murderer on the list; Shultz and Weinberger would never take such constricting shit from the Office of Management and Budget. All the doctors have continuously told the world that All Is Being Done That Can Be Done. Now you admit that isn’t so.
WHY DID YOU KEEP QUIET FOR SO LONG?! I don’t know (though it wouldn’t surprise me) if you kept quiet intentionally. I don’t know (though it wouldn’t surprise me) if you were ordered to keep quiet by Higher Ups Somewhere. You are a good lieutenant, like Adolph Eichmann.
I do know that anyone who knows what you have known for three years that, to quote Ted Weiss dimension of the shortfall is such that you can’t possibly meet our needs,” and, to quote the New York Times and their grossly incompetent AIDS reporter, Philip Boffey (whose articles read like recycled NIH releases): “Officials Blame Shortage of Staff for Delay in Testing AIDS Drugs” I repeat, anyone who has known all this and denied it for the past three years is a murderer, not dissimilar to the “good Germans” who claimed they didn’t know what was happening.
With each day I realize a little more that the gay community has lost the battle. And that we haven’t begun to experience the horrors that still await us horrors even worse than you now embryonic ally signify. We have lost. No one important enough has ears. Or hearts.
You care, I’m told (although I no longer believe it). I’ve even heard you called a saint. You are in essence a scientist who’s expected to be Lee Iacocca. But saints, miracle workers, good administrators, brilliant scientists have imaginations vivid enough to know how to spend $374 million in a dire emergency. You have no imagination. You are banal (a word used so accurately to describe Eichmann).
Do I want you to leave? (Yes.) Could you’re replacement possibly be more pea-brained than you? (Yes, it is possible.) Will this raving do any good at all? Will it make Congress shape you up? Will it make my own communities bureaucratically mired ‘AIDS organizations finally ask the right questions? (Judy Peabody of GNHC please take note.) Will Dr. Mathilde Krim ever as she indicated she would get the American Foundation for AIDS Research to fund the desperately needed and desperately needy Community Research Initiative, which is valiantly attempting to do what you should be doing, so tired we are of waiting for you to do it? (Leonard Bernstein and Harry Kraut please take note.)
I have no answers to most of these questions. You may (God help us all) be the best that will be given us. You may, like John Ehrlichman, once accused, seek redemption and forgiveness by rethinking, retooling, and, like Avis, trying harder. Even more miraculous, those Supreme Murderers in the White House might tomorrow acknowledge that families simply everywhere have gay sons and daughters.
But I fear these are only pipe dreams and you’ll continue to carry on with your spare equipment. The cries of genocide from this Cassandra will continue to remain unheard. And my noble but enfeebled community of the weak, and dying, and the dead will continue to grow and grow until we are diminished.
Larry Kramer
New York City
May 31, 1988

Things You Can Do out in the Desert

– See contrails for miles. ✈️
– Read a book by moonlight 🌙
– Track satellites with the naked eye. 🛰
– Remember your name, ‘cause there ain’t no one for to cause you no pain. ✅

October / November Repurchase Agreements

October 2019 repurchase agreements:

Totally exploding and approaching 200,000 in October 2019 and sustaining through the present day.

Eclipsing the 2008 level of 130,000.

source

The short answer for why they do this is to keep interest rates from skyrocketing. It props up bond markets, money markets, etc. You’d clean out all of those accounts and empty them today if you could get a 10% return on your money. They’re not going to let that happen.

https://fred.stlouisfed.org/series/WORAL

For their part, the Fed is saying the economy is “in a good place” and they “will act as appropriate to sustain the expansion.”

What they mean by that is that the major financial entities are fucked and panicking in the background, the Fed is dumping hundreds of billions into commercial banks because absolutely nobody else will lend to them right now.

Professional analysts from … wait for it … financial firms such as Chase Bank and Morgan Stanley are weighing in to say this is fine and we’re totally not fucked!

Ok. 🤭

If you say so. 🤐

I realize this is purely anecdotal but I visited the trucking company I used to work for this month.

They have plummeted in orders and revenue across all sectors.

Normally if agriculture sucks, John Deere stops shipping tractor parts. If automotive sucks, Detroit Diesel stops shipping engines and so on and so forth, we’d usually have a barometer of how everyone’s doing long before anyone acknowledged the problem and I’m going to tell you this: Everyone is fucked and slowing down and not talking about it yet.

I don’t know if we’re sliding into a recession or if Trump’s tariffs are completely fucking us.

I’d start dumping financial / banking stocks and hold off on the half million dollar house or the new car right now. Save every cent you can right now — for those of you who have any cents to save.

‘Merica, fuck yeah!

I live in America and you can either cry about our unfair and fucked system or you can rape and pillage it like everyone else. You have two classes of investors: The group that’s about to start plunging out of windows, and the group that’s rubbing its hands gleefully and saying “$10,000 houses and condos … here I come.”

It’s about that time to get out of the markets and shore up your cash balances and scoop up some real estate assets. Unless you want to rent it from someone else for $3000 a month in about five years from now. That’s how this works.

They’re gonna blame it on the Bad Orange Man and that would depend on whether this is a consequence of his administration’s tariff war but it’s worse than that:

Nobody will pump money into banking/finance anymore — so why should you?

Houston

We’re on the highway to Spring Grove.
All the leaves have fallen off of the trees.
The road is littered with the unfortunate carcasses
Of skunks and squirrels and stupid fucking raccoons.
Let’s stop in the next town and buy helium filled mylar balloons
That say “get well soon.”

Houston smells like cow shit:
Everyone drives thirty miles an hour.
A Toyota Prius is in my fucking way.
It’s always a fucking Toyota Prius,
That ends up in my fucking way.

It’s almost as if they’re all heading nowhere
It’s almost as if they have nowhere to be.
I wonder why people people even live out here.

You held my hand on a chilly Minnesota night
Without any other cars or people in sight
Not even a stray deer my headlights had captured.
I wondered, is this the apocalypse or the rapture?
If it is then I know what has happened to all of the animals
And I’m afraid you and I are in very big trouble.

We stared into each other’s eyes
Not knowing how long we’d behold our gaze
Whether we’d hold each other in our hearts
For what would only be a few moments
Or until the end of time?
Just like we had all the other times before,
J’ adore. 

Out here the wild horses thrive.
They seem to know,
That in order to survive
They should not run out in front of my car.

All my life I’ve (failed to) fight to stay.

I’m going to answer, protecting
It can be so hard to forgive
It’s not what I thought, and it’s not what I pictured
When I was imagining my man 
You are so nervous all of the time, 
living the classics
I know that imagining my man
Imagining, imagining my man 
All my life I’ve had to fight to stay
You were right, love takes time, hey, hey 
You have this dream, apparently I’m not done
I leave and it’s dreadful
If you get there
Be honest, respectful 
All my life (hey!) I never tried to stay
You were right, love takes time, hey, hey 
I hope one day we will get that way
Lucky to be given the chance
I do not have the answer
But I don’t have the wish to go back 

The Day They Found the Cure

There’d be dancing in the streets, I’d thought, the day they found the cure.

 Our world would be better when we were all connected, or so I’d thought for sure.

 Did you ever spend your life fighting for something and then wake up one day to a headline announcing that it went your way or that we were all going to be okay?

 The change you wanted to see, the change you wanted to be in the world had arrived under the cover of darkness without any warning and the moment you waited your entire life for meant nothing to anybody, not even to you at this point.

 And so we buttered our toast and folded the paper up on the table for later as though we would ever have the time to sit down and read the rest of it before tomorrows edition arrived.

 The damage was done and not a damn thing in this world would ever wipe all of our cheeks dry but I’m going to be late for work if I sit here and dwell on this any more than I already have.

 Neither our victory nor our defeat were even worth a like or a retweet, it’s just that we all woke up one day and queers didn’t matter to anybody or even to each other anymore.

 Young men and women: “You’ve got to go to the city,” they’d said.

 â€œThe world isn’t as stupid as where you are from.”

 I’ve been to the city, it turns out they are also quite dumb.

 And the only people left alive are what you and I have become.

honk

I don’t need to hack them, Gary will just set the room +r and they delete their fucking website constantly without any help from me.

Girl I’m so 31337 I can hack into your shitty website from a homeless shelter with neither a laptop nor an internet connection? 

I hate them so fucking much it’s fucking unreal.

Alcoholics and addicts always have someone to blame.

Like my dad, when he started drinking again, he yelled to his wife: “It’s all Robbie’s fault! He came over and left the vodka on my porch!”

And so it is, when Gary fucks up and sets his room +r and nobody can join.

“Robbie hacked us!” and in come the hate filled fucking emails and threats as I’m sitting here on a cot minding my own business and trying to “move on.”

I hate twelve steppers. They’re paranoid, deluded , violent, deranged lunatics.

Even “resigning” or deleting the website doesn’t spare me from that madness.

Instant cringe, instant block when anyone calls me “Robby” or “Robbie” – you’re one of them – and I do not fucking know you, nor do I want to.

Cindy wasn’t co-signing that shit, she went, “ah, no? I don’t think he came all the way here from Arizona and did that?”

Unfortunately she’s the only sane person in my life with a grip on reality.

Cause while I’m getting blamed … for whatever.. with full page interstital rants about whatever I “did to you” now, heres my view from Haven for Hope in Texas:

In the rooms “ESH” means “Experience, strength and hope.”

On Reddit, it means “Everyone Sucks Here.” 

Fun fact:

“Scapegoating” is a Hebrew word.

There is no equivalent term for this concept in proto/Eastern European dialect.

You can … think whatever you want about what the fuck I mean by that.

Pro tip: If you’re going to fuck with someone make sure he’s not already a diseased fucking pariah and already widely loathed by all of his tribes. 👍🏻

Emi

2:38 PM <Emi> Hey you guys
2:38 PM <Emi> I fucking love being sober
2:38 PM <cristan> yeah me too
2:38 PM <Emi> It’s great
2:38 PM <cristan> feels so much better
2:38 PM <sub0hm> Emi: STOP LYING ALL THE TIME

2:55 PM <•poppi> have you heard that song cos i got high
2:56 PM <•north> yes
2:56 PM <•tilatequila> yes
2:56 PM <•poppi> dats u
2:56 PM <•north> lol
2:56 PM <•poppi> lol
2:56 PM <•tilatequila> “i was gonna work the steps and then i got high” oooooooo
2:56 PM <•tilatequila> my sponsor said ”youre gonna die!!!!”
2:56 PM <•tilatequila> then i got high

Postcards from West Texas

Some advice about digging trenches from a gentleman in Abilene:

The first week, you’re like oh no… woe is me, I’m in a trench.


The second week, it’s “fuck you God, for putting me in this trench.”


Week three: God, give me the perseverance to remain in this trench and keep digging.

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