Tag Archives: Quotes

How to be Tone Deaf in 140 Characters or Less

Ladies and gentlemen, what a week. First, the FBI and Democrats try to head off #releasethememo by putting out statements about how damaging it would be to classified sources or some shit. Then the memo is released, and I’m forced to recall all those times I’ve left a woman unsatisfied, and I feel this newfound kinship with women because that release was certainly the performance of a minute-man. Next, all the Republicans decide to say stupid shit, like there’s a barely functioning idiot working in the highest echelons of government passing on vapid talking points to the Repubs via Sean Hannity. Actually, that’s literally what’s happening. We’re not going to talk about any of that, though, because I have an even better WTF moment in store.

You know when you’re listening to somebody speak, and they say something so stupid you can’t help but to punch them in the throat?

Continue reading How to be Tone Deaf in 140 Characters or Less


Magical Thinking in the Atheist Community

Do you know what magic feels like?

I’m not speaking of magic tricks, or Magic: the Gathering, or Wiccan magic.

I’m talking about real magic.

“Books are a uniquely portable magic.”
-Stephen King

When I was growing up, my father encouraged reading. It was kind of a thing with me. Every day I was reading books. The books could be educational, religious, young adult, and on and on and on. I read so much that I developed a love for reading. Continue reading Magical Thinking in the Atheist Community

The Atheist Who Wasn’t


When you realize all the people in the world matter (not just the ones you identify with).

EA Miller

So here’s a thing: atheists who believe in the supernatural.

First, what do you even call an atheist who holds on to beliefs in anything supernatural?

I know the dictionary definition of an atheist is one who lacks a belief in god or gods.

Continue reading The Atheist Who Wasn’t

American Greatness: Losing Face Before the World

You know what’s hard to face as an American? That people from other countries can’t take you seriously. It’s bad enough you only speak one language, so you already seem inferior. People from supposed “shithole” countries, like those in Africa, commonly speak at least two languages, sometimes three or more languages. I think I know only one or two Americans, personally, who are at least bilingual, and they happen to be Nigerian and Senegalese. Continue reading American Greatness: Losing Face Before the World


We disappear
into folds of skin informed
by fast food and
airbrushed glamour, our sin
the gluttony of survival.

We don’t survive, anymore; we live
hard and long, fellatiotic
music, the whispers of a mess
about our lips, our faces
concealed beneath our future children.


Outrage Culture at the Nexus of Blackness

I’m not exactly what you’d call pro-black.  I mean, my girlfriend is a white lady.  But I do have a connection with my blackness, or who I am as a black person, and what my history is.  And in keeping with maintaining that connection, I follow blogs/news sites like AfroPunk and Black Atheists. Continue reading Outrage Culture at the Nexus of Blackness

The Bleak Stagnation of Row, Row, Rowing

– Demilked.com
– Demilked.com

Of course I would dream
of her, she and I
skimming over a facsimile
of paradise

reflecting that vast blue mask,
which hid from us
the supremacy
of our smallness.

Of course paradise was a lie.
It was always a lie:
Gehenna, Shit’s Creek,
the bleak stagnation

of row, row, rowing
just swiftly enough
to float at the edge
of our own personal hells.

We were triumphant
in our decay,
in our prejudice to meaning

as we kissed
one another
through the totality
of feeling nothing.



In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Photo Challenge #135

The Pneumatic Nature of Laughter

Image by Forsaken Fotos
Image by Forsaken Fotos

Have you ever missed someone
who did not exist?

Have you ever considered the strings
from which stars are suspended

throughout the emptiness of your own being?
Have you ever wondered at the pneumatic

nature of laughter or traced the curvature
of a swan’s neck through the spaces between

a shuddering whimper
and that stone shattering the delirium

of your glass house? Have you ever
witnessed the rationing of an idea

so that the waves just beneath the lake’s surface
would not be moved to dance back into yesterday?

Have you ever dreamed of lavatating
in pools of too uniform tears

beneath that terrible forge
that touches the sky with its blue mockery?

Have you ever found yourself
denoted by your mask, that one

that denies the precision
of the cut that revealed the nakedness of your heart?


In response to MindLoveMisery Menagerie’s Wordle #125.


The Apostate, Fall

Jasper Francis Cropsey (1823–1900)
Jasper Francis Cropsey (1823–1900)


Fall would follow summer,
a too affectionate and whimpering dog, through ages

of excited apostasy–the apostate, Fall–
and we would ooooh and aaaah

through the beauty of dying so slowly,
voyeurs to all manner of unashamed flora

exposing to us their seed-bare glory
as they heralded that true death (you know that

death that hurries over the backs
of scentless winds).

But summer, tired of being followed,
filed for a restraining order.


What Ash Conceived Beneath a Rainbow


The echoes
of a failing eternity

sounded through
the abject crimson

of her lips. I was there
when God was there,

and she was the day,
her eyes

the episodic bailiwick
of temptation.

I slipped and slid
along the milk spilled

on the floor
and heard no one cry,

save those
who found horror

in the conception
of ash, and in what ash

conceived beneath a rainbow
with no edge.




For Mind Love Misery Menagerie’s Photo Challenge.