good luck

Last night I tucked my son into bed – for the third or fourth time, I can’t remember, he kept getting up for one last drink of water – and I kissed him on the head and thought to myself, “This might very well be the last night where I can guarantee his safety, where I can know that there won’t be a nuclear war in the middle of the night because China called Trump a bad name on Twitter.”

I don’t mean to sound overly dramatic about it, but I swear to God that’s what went through my mind.

Today is a dark, dark day.  I can’t recall the last time I felt this sort of dread – at least, not while I was awake.  Indeed, I’m still having trouble processing that this is really happening, that this isn’t some sort of mass-hypnosis Black Mirror episode gone horribly wrong.

But here we are.

It’s been a rough week or so here at SFTC HQ; I got kicked in the ass by a virus last Thursday and I’m only now starting to feel sort-of back to my usual self.  My mom broke her leg while on vacation.  My day job, having already blocked me from social media, has also apparently blocked Spotify.  I can’t watch the news, even though I feel compelled to watch the news, because while it’s important to be informed, I can only take so much of Trump’s stupidity before blood starts shooting out of my ears.  My videogame RSS feeds are filled with endless crap about the Nintendo Switch, which I don’t give a shit about (and which my 3-year-old son is too young to want).

And, well, today we are swearing in a spray-tanned idiot to be our new President.

It is important to fight back, to resist, to make sure that nothing about this administration is normalized, to hold Trump and the spineless GOP accountable for the terrible, terrible mistakes that are about to be made.  It is important to be vigilant and watchful, to stand in the way of injustice, to make our voices heard as loudly as possible.

It is also important to give hugs and kisses to the people you love the most.

If you’re reading this, thank you.  I’m in something of a transitional phase with this blog – which is something I’ve said a million times before, but it’s more true now than ever – and I’m not really sure where I’m going with it.  Talking about games and music and books feels kinda unnecessary, even if, as Trump prepares to dismantle funding for federal arts programs, it’s more important than ever before to talk about music and books and games.

In any event, I’m glad you’re here, whoever you are.  We are going to get through this, somehow.  And if you’re here with me, just know that I am here with you, too.

darkness at the break of noon

it’s alright ma (i’m only bleeding)

Darkness at the break of noon
Shadows even the silver spoon
The handmade blade, the child’s balloon
Eclipses both the sun and moon
To understand you know too soon
There is no sense in trying

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn
Suicide remarks are torn
From the fool’s gold mouthpiece the hollow horn
Plays wasted words, proves to warn
That he not busy being born is busy dying

Temptation’s page flies out the door
You follow, find yourself at war
Watch waterfalls of pity roar
You feel to moan but unlike before
You discover that you’d just be one more
Person crying

So don’t fear if you hear
A foreign sound to your ear
It’s alright, Ma, I’m only sighing

As some warn victory, some downfall
Private reasons great or small
Can be seen in the eyes of those that call
To make all that should be killed to crawl
While others say don’t hate nothing at all
Except hatred

Disillusioned words like bullets bark
As human gods aim for their mark
Make everything from toy guns that spark
To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark
It’s easy to see without looking too far
That not much is really sacred

While preachers preach of evil fates
Teachers teach that knowledge waits
Can lead to hundred-dollar plates
Goodness hides behind its gates
But even the president of the United States
Sometimes must have to stand naked

An’ though the rules of the road have been lodged
It’s only people’s games that you got to dodge
And it’s alright, Ma, I can make it

Advertising signs they con
You into thinking you’re the one
That can do what’s never been done
That can win what’s never been won
Meantime life outside goes on
All around you

You lose yourself, you reappear
You suddenly find you got nothing to fear
Alone you stand with nobody near
When a trembling distant voice, unclear
Startles your sleeping ears to hear
That somebody thinks they really found you

A question in your nerves is lit
Yet you know there is no answer fit
To satisfy, insure you not to quit
To keep it in your mind and not forget
That it is not he or she or them or it
That you belong to

Although the masters make the rules
For the wise men and the fools
I got nothing, Ma, to live up to

For them that must obey authority
That they do not respect in any degree
Who despise their jobs, their destinies
Speak jealously of them that are free
Cultivate their flowers to be
Nothing more than something they invest in

While some on principles baptized
To strict party platform ties
Social clubs in drag disguise
Outsiders they can freely criticize
Tell nothing except who to idolize
And then say God bless him

While one who sings with his tongue on fire
Gargles in the rat race choir
Bent out of shape from society’s pliers
Cares not to come up any higher
But rather get you down in the hole
That he’s in

But I mean no harm nor put fault
On anyone that lives in a vault
But it’s alright, Ma, if I can’t please him

Old lady judges watch people in pairs
Limited in sex, they dare
To push fake morals, insult and stare
While money doesn’t talk, it swears
Obscenity, who really cares
Propaganda, all is phony

While them that defend what they cannot see
With a killer’s pride, security
It blows the minds most bitterly
For them that think death’s honesty
Won’t fall upon them naturally
Life sometimes must get lonely

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed
Graveyards, false gods, I scuff
At pettiness which plays so rough
Walk upside-down inside handcuffs
Kick my legs to crash it off
Say okay, I have had enough, what else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen
They’d probably put my head in a guillotine
But it’s alright, Ma, it’s life, and life only