07.28.20

A false front. A facade. A presentation of characteristics that lets all onlookers believe that everything is exactly as it should be at any given moment. Every alcoholics uniform. The flying flag of the life-long drug addict. The earmark of the adult child. So good when it lies silently on paper, but an abomination when it all becomes clear that the entire existence is riddled with fear and expectation and assumption. A two-sided coin. 

It’s 3:00am and I’m awake. Disrupted from my sleep by a brain full of ideas and worry. Rustled from my slumber by the caffeine consumed in my youth. I’d write back, but I’m disappointed. Let down by the aforementioned. Confused by the paradox. The commute is long. The days are longer and they just get stacked on each other. It can’t always be this way, but for now, in this darkness, I am still upset or up and set or simply just up. Accept. Just words. So much expectation. So much assumption. Ultimately just an ultimatum in disguise. A fire quietly covered under a pristine horse drawn wagon. Wooden wheels and all. Human to human. That’s the only way. If I write it all out I’ll just end up exploding or vomiting or going flat. So much good and so much bad. You’d think it would balance itself, but it really doesn’t.

07.27.20

Dump the words into a blender, turn it on and let it run for a bit. Pour the contents into a glass. Let it rest on the counter. When eight minutes have passed, take the now full glass in your right hand and throw it through the dining room window. Your ribs will break. Your lung will collapse. You’ll be hospitalized a couple of times. It won’t make anything better, but you can try and schedule it away. You can make the appointments and keep the meetings, but it isn’t going to get better because at the end of the day they’re all just words. Words. Words. Words. 

07.22.20

Tonight I stood under a street lamp looking for a comet that was hidden behind a house. 

Today I drank from a fire hose.

Tomorrow I’ll drive the drive and listen to the music and punch the clock and sit in the driveway.

The days fold into each other. Like cake batter that one time I made myself a birthday treat.

07.21.20

It is never going to get easier. The doorknob will never turn without hesitation. The hill won’t get smaller. Lay in the dark and know that there will never be light. No contrast. Just darkness and solitude. Forty two. Forty fucking two. What a mess. The phone calls and the lecture. The constant shuffling. Put a mask on. It’ll cover the sadness. Nobody knows if there’s a smile under there anyway.

Wristband memories and the lake and swimming all the way across. Piling into the car and taking all afternoon every summer. Innocence. I was your age once. I was your age when I met her. It wasn’t for a couple of years, but when she lied, she lied real hard and changed the course of my life and your life forever and she never asked. She spun it and she manipulated everything to get what she wanted because that’s what addicts do. She’s a cunt and she will be until she dies and if there is any kind of justice in this world she’ll die all by herself. I don’t even use that word, but I can’t spell it big enough for her. 

Doesn’t matter. It’s the past and now there are only Tuesday’s that are bookended by other days and it’s all just a big shit show. The world is on fire and everybody hates everybody and it’s all being managed by an asshole in the White House and a bunch of newspapers and talking heads that only concern themselves with posterity and self-preservation. I’d drink it off, but I don’t care to. Wouldn’t change anything anyway. I suppose I have that. Twenty years sober. Could be just a day. That’s all we get anyway. 

Broken. Busted. Dusted. 

I appreciate you. I love you. You have value. 

Rinse. Repeat. 

Get up. Just get up. Get up and put your pants on and get back out there and try hard. It’ll get better. It’ll get better and eventually everything won’t be hard. Just get up. Please get up.

07.20.20

I rode my bike down the parkway yesterday morning and there were scores of other folks doing the same. Lots of people out riding their bikes and walking and running and rolling along on roller blades. It was fantastic to see so many active folks, but they were nearly all white. It actually broke my heart and made me feel bad for getting out and enjoying an activity that I enjoy and have had the privilege of enjoying for years. 

This country is broken and the city I live in is not an exception. 

07.19.20

Ride bikes to old parks and cook tubed meats on a grill. Enjoy the pleasant sounds of classical music in the driveway while the answers to the worlds most difficult puzzles are given without hesitation. Sun Chips and some guacamole. A fresh round of trash pick up. Pound waters like they’re water. Dougs. Dog dishes. Hot hot heat. Solo yolo. Do nice things. Don’t be a weirdo. Watch drag racing. Watch wrestling. Watch watches. Go with god. Go without. Don’t believe the hype. A watched pot never boils...until it does and then there is boiling water in the pot. Like watching grass grow, or paint dry. Build a fence. Make a gate. Mendota. Ride down by the river and crawl across the sandstone. Play sports. Be sporty. Access the on ramp and watch movies. Light up the lights and use the ashtray. Park next to a lake and get that hotel room in Duluth. Hockey games and Wednesday nights. Breakfast in the basement. Write from recall and predict the future. Hindsight. Blind spot. Set the wheels up tubeless. Get the kids to their kid things. Be kind. Be generous. Walk. Run. Sit on the bench by the river. Take in all the things that can be. Buster Scruggs. Ballads and a Flaming Lips t-shirt. Bananas. Bandannas. Water bottles, a seatpost and some old gloves. I’m tired.

07.17.20

Forty seven seltzer drinks all stuffed to the rim with enough alcohol to absolve infection. Broken washing machines lined up to rinse and repeat the dozens of wet blankets left behind by the woman that stomped out your heart. You are an island. Surrounded by water and one thousand years of tears. You are the tree in the forest that no one hears fall. You are the abandon car on the freeway set ablaze by the millions that march. 

Busted porch planks and thick, humid air that saturates your stained and soiled shirts. Greasy knuckles and dirty finger nails from spending too many days behind baths. You are a failure with cracked teeth and popcorn fingers. You beat yourself up for the things you’ve done in your past and can’t forgive yourself for anything long enough to actually get to the present. You’re a sunken canoe in a river of lost causes and abandoned hope.

Eat a stick of dynamite and abstain from attending bonfires. Wash your hair in a lake and catch the rash that lives in the shoreline urine. Bright light ignites your face in what is otherwise darkness and your dog lies on your bed in contempt. Empty food bowls and dirty water. You got it wrong again and you’re bound to finish last. Washed up and forgotten by yourself. A gravel king with no crown and no high back chair to hold court in.

You’ll eat from the trash when the clock strikes midnight and it doesn’t matter how you show up because if you were once a loser, you’ll always be a loser and you’ll never forget those words. Delivered to the door. Delivered to the desk. Books thrown about and you weigh more than you want to. It’s all part of the fun...says the man hiding behind the desk. It’s not surgery. It’s not brain science. It’s just life and you’ll be fine. 

07.16.20

I do not enjoy the luxury of an abundance of time and/or space.

I spend the majority of my time (nearly all) in the company of other human beings.

I am tired, I am exhausted and I am sad.

07.12.20

Can I accept you exactly as you are? In this moment? Can I accept your differences as they relate to mine? Can I extend love and compassion to you? Can I look past your hate and animosity with empathy and compassion? Can I do this for you and for all beings? 

What is it inside me that condemns? What drives my ego into expectation? What is it about myself that I am disgusted with that drives me to project my own self-loathing onto you?

How can I become a better human that loves and respects all other humans? Is there a line in the sand for that love and respect? Is there some breaking point that I cannot cross? Is it even possible to love everyone without judgement? 

What about racists and bigots and people who breathe hate? Is it possible to love them as humans? Is it possible to be empathetic to them and their toolset and their education on the matters of hate? Is it possible to love unanimously? Is it possible to accept all beings for exactly what they are?

In accepting all beings, am I complicit in their negativity and hate? Is it better to combat hate with hate? Is it better to confront violence with violence? Where does the hate end and the love begin? 

I am either all in, or I am all out. 

07.10.20

Have a nervous breakdown and turn the volume all the way down. Consider that trip to North Dakota. Get in the van and keep the windows up. It’s hot, but it’s likely not deadly. Shift. Get moved around. Try to focus and get distracted. Accept things exactly as they are. It simply is or it isn’t. There are no absolutes. Nothing is guaranteed. Nothing lasts forever. Birth, life, death. It’s the same for everybody. What happens in the middle is irrelevant. Stop. Just stop. Just stop and start over. Again. Pay down your debt. Focus on the kids. Get them a house with a couple of bedrooms. Turn it off. Turn it all off. When the volume goes down the anxiety follows. It can be done. Get comfortable with solitude. Look in the mirror and appreciate the reflection. You are you and that’s never going to change. Exercise. Drink water. Eat better. Enjoy everything and change for no one. You got this. You always have. 

07.04.20

Fireworks outside the window and some white line fever that just can’t ever seem to be curbed. A dog in a panic. Heat rising through old growth cedar. A handful of fans operating on twenty-four hour clocks. A coffee maker that lives for morning. There is panic in the air and some subtle light that ebbs and flows. Birds and rabbits and squirrels. More chairs than humans and box after box after box. It’s summer here in Minnesota and I wouldn’t want it any other way. 

06.16.20

I’m not interested. I’m disappointed.

Midtown. Downtown. Uptown. South. North. Near North. Northeast. Southeast.

The Western suburbs.

The ABC’s.

St. Paul.

I don’t really care. I had a bunch of months of really fucking great and now I’m tired. I’m displaced. Again. The neighborhood I loved and showed up for isn’t there for me anymore and it’s sad.

The racist suburbs are vomit inducing and the city appears to be following suit. You’re not a liberal or a conservative, you’re racist.

Fuck it. All of it. 

I hate it. The racism. The judgement. The bias. The bigotry. The misogyny. I hate all of it. 

The jokes. The carelessness. The lack of empathy. The NIMBY bullshit.

TAKE CARE OF YOUR SHIT!

TAKE CARE OF YOUR NEIGHBOR!

TAKE CARE OF YOUR EARTH!

FUCK YOUR POLITICS AND YOUR DEMOCRAT REPUBLICAN NONSENSE!

FUCK YOUR NEWS!

FUCK YOUR OPINION!

FUCK YOUR BELIEF!

FUCK DONALD TRUMP!

I don’t give a shit who you voted for because I no longer believe in the American government. It is slanted to protect white people and always gives a little extra effort to protect the rich white people. 

I don’t care about your cause because it isn’t any better than the next one and unless it directly opposes racism and/or economic inequality it’s a fucking waste of time.

JUST FUCKING LOVE PEOPLE!!!!!

LOVE ALL OF THEM. EQUALLY!!! 

LOVE EVERYONE!!!!!!!

ACTUALLY, YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK THIS. ALL OF IT. FUCK THIS WEBSITE AND FUCK THE INTERNET AND FUCK SOCIAL MEDIA AND FUCK DRINKING. IT’S STUPID AND IT DOESN’T DO ANYBODY ANY GOOD AND IT ONLY CAUSES TROUBLE FOR PEOPLE. 

IF ANYBODY NEEDS ME I’LL BE OUT BY THE DUMPSTER. BY MYSELF. TRYING TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO SHOW UP CONSISTENTLY FOR EVERYBODY WITH A HEART FULL OF EMPATHY AND KINDNESS AND LOVE AND UNTIL YOU’RE GENUINELY READY TO DO THE SAME YOU CAN LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

06.09.20

Vulnerability and comfort zones.

I need more of one and less of the other.

Walls and sidewalks.

I need less of one and more of the other.

I am human and, as such, fallible.

I am human and, as such, capable of growth.

Am I willing to grow?

Am I willing to acknowledge and accept?

Can I find the path that allows for balance, or am I so committed to my way being the only way that I am willing to ignore and disregard?

My reflection in the river is a reasonable description of my self, but I am ignorant to believe that my reflection is not as constantly moving as the river. When I fully understand that, I am as close to constant growth as I will ever be. 

06.06.20

Light and dark. Lightness and darkness. Good and evil. Just and unjust. White and black.

Think about that. Think long and hard about that and then come back to this.

***

These are all words. Just simple words. Words we use every day and words we’ve been using for centuries.

Light is almost always attached to good things and dark is almost always attached to bad things. White is for weddings and black is for funerals. Daytime is safe and nighttime is scary. We teach our kids this. Culturally, we embrace these concepts and today, as I think about all of this I cannot help but think that our separation of light and dark stems from the idea of white being supreme over dark.

Yes, I wrote that.

Culturally we have established that light is greater than dark and we have passed down, from generation to generation, the idea that white is greater than any other color.

As a society, we have attached value to color and we applied that value to human life.

Last night I heard two white men talking to each other as they dismantled the plywood shell that had been placed over the glass of a store front near the University of Minnesota. As they used their drills to remove the last screw on the piece of wood that would finally reveal the previously covered window, one of the men said, “let there be light”. It was a casual statement and a subtle celebration. As commentary, it likely originated in that person’s upbringing and education. A knee jerk response. Something this person has probably said hundreds of times, and before the most recent killing of an unarmed black man, something that most people would have agreed with. To these men, the plywood shield coming down was indicative of something worth celebrating. To these men, this act was a return to the security they enjoy in their whiteness. To these men, taking the plywood down marked an entrance into a time where “everyone” could walk around without the fear of riots and violence and chaos.

Unfortunately, walking around without the fear of violence is not a luxury enjoyed by “everyone”. In this nation, this nation of freedom and liberty, walking around without fear is something that has always been reserved for white people.

So…

”Let there be light”…or maybe not.

It made me sad to hear it. It made me stop and think. It made me want to tell everyone to just stop and think before they say something.

The words we use travel farther than we know and they always will.

As you go through your day, please think about the words you use and the learned and inherent values that are attached to them.

The world is positively changing right before us and we can add to that in ways that are simultaneously simple and complex.

Words. Use them wisely.

06.02.20

If you are white:

Shut your mouth for a bit. Listen for the cues on how you can help make things better for people that are not white.

Just do that…and keep your mouth shut. Seriously.

06.01.20

The events that have transpired over the course of the last week and the two months prior have allowed for a shift in the way we exist. That is to say that an opportunity to become more intentional has presented itself. When we have been asked to stay home to prevent the spread of a worldwide virus, we have become more intentional about where we go and when we go there. We have become more intentional about who we interact with and how. We have become more intentional about the food we buy and what we eat.

When the tragedy that struck Minneapolis one week ago happened, it triggered a response that no one could have anticipated. The result, while definitely messy and chaotic on a lot of levels, was needed. Subsequently there has been a shift in the language we use and it can be seen throughout our communities, both in person and digitally. In many cases, though, words weren’t wanted. Lip service, as we have become accustomed to hearing, wasn’t going to be enough this time. Hollow speeches weren’t going to change anything. So there was a physical push and riots happened and fires burned and what it did was get everyone’s attention. The violence was action. The protests were action. All of it was action and scores and scores of folks, in the face of all that was unfolding, kept talking…and then something happened.

More words happened, but they were different.

Yesterday the Governor of Minnesota held a press conference and absolutely owned it. He spoke about accountability and made statements that indicated an immediate shift in the way things will be done going forward to address Minnesota’s inequities. They were just words, but they were different. What I heard was ownership and accountability. What I heard was action and it got me to thinking about the following:

When words are spoken they become actions in that they are produced in our vocal chords and expelled by the movement of our tongue and lips.

If we acknowledge the actionable shift in our dialect, we can follow that with the other parts of our body, our non-verbal communication points.

Additionally, the more we exercise our mouths and our arms and our hands and our cores to this, the more likely our brains are to follow.

If we are to become the change we want to see in others, first we must begin with ourselves. Let’s alter our language. Let’s change our vernacular. Let’s go forward with inclusion and engagement. Let’s change our world.

05.30.20

I woke up this morning with the light on, after sleeping in my clothes, on top of my covers. This has been the case for the past three nights. Sleeping for two hours, fully clothed.

When I got up today, I started my normal routine, but realized that the slippers I normally wear to let the dog out weren’t appropriate. Instead, my brain told me to put on the sneakers…just in case. When I got outside, instead of sitting down in the chair to let the dog do his thing, I went out to the street to see if all the windows in my car and van were still there…they were. While fully intact, the car and van were covered in ash from the legacies that burned in North Minneapolis last night.

While I was still in the street my immediate manager called me. We spoke for a few minutes about everything and it was nice to get some words out.

Eventually I made my way back up the driveway to assume some level of morning normalcy and drink my cup of coffee.

A few minutes later the owner of the company I work for called me. He and I spoke for several minutes. He told me he supports me in every way. I appreciate him for that. As we spoke, I cried and then he cried. It was impactful. It felt good to get the tears out.

When we got off the phone I felt different. The air felt different. Everything felt different.

Now, an hour later, as I sit here in the driveway and type this I am calm. I have music playing for the first time in a couple of days. The air in this part of the city is different. I can feel community again. I can feel a sense of togetherness. I can feel a shift in the tide of what has been violence and chaos for the last three days.

I love this city. I love Minneapolis. I love the Midtown neighborhood and I know it’s in pain right now. I am here and I am staying. We will grow through this and beyond it. We will emerge strong and united and hopefully more near equal. I believe that this morning and I hope you do, too.

05.29.20

My city is on fire. My shop is emptied and likely will not reopen. My heart is heavy for all those that suffer from inequality and I support their calls for change. Words and thoughts and prayers are empty. Even these. Action is needed. Now.

After every forest fire there is a period of rebirth and through that process of beginning again everything is vibrant and full of life.

05.26.20

It only took forty two years and thirteen hours to realize there is not just one question. In fact, there is no question at all. Therefore, there are no answers. Everything simply is exactly what it is.

Do whatever you like. That’s my plan.