On Suicide Logic

I will never shoot myself. It's too messy, and leaves a traumatic scene for the person who finds you; likewise hanging and jumping from a considerable height. I will never poison myself, because it seems very uncomfortable, and the success of the endeavor is doubtful. I would consider drowning, if only I were able to be unconscious during the process, and out far enough into a large body of water to assure I would not wash up on the shore bloated and covered in sea stuff. The only scenarios in which I can see myself committing this act are if I became feeble enough to require constant caring for, or found myself in a state of chronic suffering that could not be assuaged.

Although we all think about it from time to time, we do not talk about suicide in our culture; that's why there is an increasing amount of it. I think there are good reasons to commit suicide. I also think there are understandable reasons to commit suicide. Most suicides fall into the 'understandable' category, but suicide logic is not healthy logic. Often, a suicidal person suffers from untreated or mistreated mental health issues and/or drug and alcohol abuse. These suicides are missing the full picture, and that's a tragedy.

We do not talk about suicide enough in our culture, so I'm going to talk about it. In the coming weeks I would like to use this blog to explore the reasons people choose suicide--maybe 'are compelled towards' is more accurate--and to see if maybe there are better reasons not to kill yourself available to a suicidal person weighing the pros and cons of that irreversible decision.

In a piece I wrote earlier this month entitled 'H.P. Lovecraft Furnishes Us With a Good Reason Not to Commit Suicide', I quoted the weird author on his decision not to kill himself in the face of the ultimate meaninglessness of life:

"And yet certain elements--notably scientific curiosity and a sense of world drama--held me back. Much in the universe baffled me, yet I knew I could pry the answer out of books if I lived and studied longer. Geology, for example. Just how did these ancient sediments and stratifications get crystallized and upheaved into granite peaks? Geography--just what would Scott and Shackleton and Borchgrevink find in the great white Antarctic or their next expeditions...which I could--if I wished--live to see described?"

Curiosity was enough of a carrot to keep him from hanging himself from the stick of nihilism.

And there are so many other reasons to commit to life instead of death in a world where there is no inherent meaning. We get to construct our own meaning. There are people to love. There are things to accomplish.

To a mind in a deep depression, I know all of the things I mentioned above seem horribly patronizing, almost to the point of parody. All I can do for a person in deep depression is to listen to them if they wish to talk, and to guide them towards appropriate treatment. To a person teetering in between places--and maybe even to a person in an extreme depressed state--having thought about suicide with an un-depressed mind and spirit may create a healthier context for them when they are in the darkness. William Styron talks about how he was budged out of his intention to commit suicide by hearing a song sung on a video tape one night as he sat in his living room contemplating his ultimate demise.

There are many other stories of people being saved and saving themselves from the brink of suicide. So let's mine those stories, and let's talk about our own stories openly and honestly. Repressed things only get uglier and angrier the more we do not talk about them. It's time to let suicide out of the bag and see what it looks like in the light of day.

Reviews I Wish I Had Gotten For My Book

“Jesus was the word made flesh: This book is the flesh made word. All you other writers can stop now. Spencer Troxell has won writing.” – The New Yorker

“We just finished reading our son’s book, and it turns out he was right about everything the whole time.”

–Spencer’s Parents

“After reading this book, we’re convinced that our daughter and grandchildren are in good hands. Also, it turns out Spencer was right about everything this whole time!” –Spencer’s Mother and Father-in-law

“Gahhh! It burns! No…not the razors! We never should have treated Spencer so badly! We were wrong! Oh no! Not the flesh eating worms! Gahh….” – Various Enemies, Naysayers, and Just Plain Jerks.

Get a copy of the book that these (and so many more!) imaginary reviewers are raving about here.

It Is Finished.

Get your copy of EVERYTHING IN THE MEDICINE CABINET HAS EXPIRED right here.

I'm pretty proud of it. These are my best pieces of writing, and Andrew Wood's illustrations are phenomenal. Get yerself a copy already.

From the introduction, by Christian Thompson:

"This collection of essays comes to you from the mind of a gentleman who was willing to burn through the walls of bramble that made up his illusions in an (oftentimes painful) pursuit of survival, truth, and humanity. What results is an on going series of engagements of the heart and mind that were written specifically for us (the “dear readers” that I hope he never refers to us as).

It is here that you will find camaraderie among the underdogs of our culture that knit together like the fabric of a humanist flag. The pieces written are often like letters to old friends and have a way of offering an open hand to the reader while simultaneously challenging us. As we delve into the medicine cabinet, we’ll find reflections of illness, a strong stance for justice, and the sweetness of honesty and truth.

And it’s kinda funny. That too."

Get yerself a copy already.

E-Mail to the American Worker

(co-written with David Troxell)

Comrades!

Just kidding. I know that kind of language scares the shit out of you. In 1918, Lenin wrote his ‘Letter to the American Worker’ encouraging her to eschew the oppressive yoke of capitalism. I know that language scares you too, but Lenin was on to something.

Let me ask you a few questions:

Do you think it’s fair that you work as hard as you do, as long as you do, and for as little as you do, to create commodities via means of production that you do not own, all for the profit of your employer, who reaps the lion’s share of your yield without lifting a finger?

Do you think it’s just that you have been made to hate the concept of work, that thing which should give mankind her greatest sense of purpose? Do you think it is healthy that you invest so much time at such a hated activity which is so ill-suited to your natural talents that you seek to escape not only work in your ‘down time’, but--in a way--life itself?

Do you think it is right that the richest one percent--the owners of our society--are able to afford the best healthcare, best education, and best leisure (in the truest sense of the word), while allowing you only just enough freedom to create more workers for the work force (like some kind of factory farm animal), enough healthcare to keep you well enough to not die, and enough education to keep you intelligent enough to believe the lie of our capitalist system, and just comfortable enough to keep you from engaging in open revolt?

Lenin spoke of the oppression created by imperialism. Thankfully, we no longer  live in a world where imperialism is so prevalent. The unfortunate aspect of this is that it has been replaced with something not quite as tangible; neocolonialism has put shackles on all but the world’s wealthy. It has created a system of debt designed to enslave all that it can, with the bait of making your life better instead of living a life of perpetual poverty. It lures the lower and middle class in with the promise of a better life somewhere in the not so far off future if only we would transform ourselves into the thimble on the global monopoly board. To creatively paraphrase John Steinbeck: in a world increasingly infected with the capitalist virus, the poor see themselves as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.

But it is a soulless business to be the thimble, and we have been reduced to escapism. We no longer define ourselves. Instead, we are defined by our yield. By the numbers of threads we stitch. By the amount of milk that is drained from our udders. We do not own the thread, and we do not even own our own udders! Our ability to self define through work has been stripped of us. They are turning us into automatons.  Rather than following our passions and self actualizing the way that the artist has proved man capable of doing, we are reduced to limiting and dulling the pain. With drink. With T.V. With drugs and passionless sex. We only know where the shoe pinches, and we seek to  anesthetize ourselves so we don’t notice the pinch. Has it ever occurred to us that maybe we might look into wearing a different type of shoe?  Capitalism disconnects us from what makes us human--we are alienated.

In the capitalist system, your worth is determined by how much you own. This is not an appropriate means for determining the worth of a living being; this is not the way to judge something that thinks and feels. This is how you judge a piece of machinery--a lifeless chunk of metal used to fulfill someone else’s ends.

There is a better path, comrades. We dare not say its name out loud, because the only thing more blasphemous than questioning a person’s faith in America is questioning the social structure.

This social structure is rotten. The boards are warped, the carpet is louse-ridden, and the pipes are fully corroded. It’s time to knock the structure down.

What we build in its place will be up to you.

Respectfully,

David & Spencer Troxell

Suggested Reading:

‘Why Marx Was Right’, by Terry Eagleton

‘Letter To the American Worker’, by V.I. Lenin

H.P. Lovecraft Furnishes Us With a Good Reason Not To Commit Suicide

It may seem strange to most people that one would need a reason not to commit suicide, but there are those of us out there who need one. To some, knowing that the self checkout lane is open is actually a consolation. Hunter S. Thompson said "If I didn't know I could commit suicide at any moment, life would be unbearable". Of course, there are many reasons not to kill yourself. ' This Too Shall Pass' is the protective motto of those traversing the Territory of the blackest mind. The transitory nature of everything is reason enough to see if you can ride it out when it comes to depressed states, mixed states, and plain old bad luck.

Far be it from me to suggest such a thing is easy. As a person with manic depression, I understand how the poisoned mind can laugh at our stoic bearings. Far be it from me also to suggest that there is anything inherently evil, selfish, or wrong about suicide. Sometimes, suicide is in fact a reasonable choice. Some choose to end their lives rather than experience prolonged pain and suffering connected to a chronic illness. I understand this choice, and would probably choose it for myself if it ever seemed necessary. Also, suicide is often committed by people with mental health issues, such as myself. They do this while in the grips of a disease, and faulting a person who kills themselves in such a state is akin to faulting a person with a heart disorder for dying of a heart attack.

One of the ways people such as myself manage to survive is to remind ourselves of the transitory nature of our suffering. Another is to participate in therapy or counseling. Another is to take medication that is appropriate to our illness, exercise, eat healthy, and get good rest. Another way that has benefited me is to seek out folks who share my experience and struggle, and to empathize with them and learn from their hard won wisdom (all wisdom is hard won, isn't it?).

That brings me to the excerpt I wanted to share with you. I am a huge H.P. Lovecraft fan. I love his stories, but what I am coming to love even more than his stories are his letters. He was a great letter writer, and in the below excerpt he talks about a time he seriously considered suicide, and how he navigated his way back out of it:

"How easy it would be to wade out among the rushes and lie face down in the warm water till oblivion came. There would be a certain gurgling or choking unpleasantness at first--but it would soon be over. Then the long, peaceful night of non-existence..."

But something held him up:

"And yet certain elements--notably scientific curiosity and a sense of world drama--held me back. Much in the universe baffled me, yet I knew I could pry the answer out of books if I lived and studied longer. Geology, for example. Just how did these ancient sediments and stratifications get crystallized and upheaved into granite peaks? Geography--just what would Scott and Shackleton and Borchgrevink find in the great white Antarctic or their next expeditions...which I could--if I wished--live to see described?"

Lovecraft goes through questions about history, Africa, Mathematics, and other intellectual curiosities that he would miss out on if he snuffed himself out, ultimately concluding,

"So in the end I decided to postpone my exit till the following summer. I would do a little curiosity-satisfying at first; filling certain gaps of scientific and historical knowledge, and attaining a greater sense of completeness before merging with the infinite blackness."

after finding himself engaged in life to a much greater degree on this path of postponement--starting up an old newsletter, finding more questions at the ends of questions answered--he decided to grant himself another extension:

"Possibly I would wait til '06 before making my exit...one could drown in '06 just as well as in '05 or '04!'

Questions of life and death and meaning popped up over and over again in Lovecraft's life--he kept a cyanide pill on his person at all times just in case 'it ever got too much'--but he found his way through that particular darkness with the aid of curiosity.

Curiosity is a fine reason to go on living. I had just discovered Billy Collins a little bit before the suicide of a dear friend several years back, and was very excited to share it with him the next time he was in town. Before I had a chance to do that, he had jumped off an overpass in Tennessee. Not far after all of the other assorted kinds of thoughts a person has after receiving such news, it occurred to me that my friend would never get to experience Billy Collins. My friend--a highly intelligent, clever, soulful person--had missed out on something I was pretty sure he would have liked.

I am always discovering new things. Life is about change and possibility, and who knows what is waiting for us in the future? It's a compelling reason to stick around.

*

This essay will appear in my book 'Everything In the Medicine Cabinet Has Expired', to be released on Friday, May 3rd.

*

I Have Made a Book!

Pretty fucking excited about the book I have coming out on May 3rd. It's a collection of essays, stories, and status updates that were originally posted on this blog and other places, plus some new content that I think is pretty good. Andrew Wood is illustrating it, and Christian Thompson will be writing the introduction. Here's the cover, by Andrew Wood:

It will cost around 11 bucks. You should buy a copy. May 3rd. Check back here at that date for a link.

Substance Abuse & Mental Illness: A Match Made In Hell

I have a degree in psychology, and have worked in the human services for 6 years if you count the 2 years I spent volunteering at Hospice. My current job--at a homeless shelter--puts me in contact with folks who have mental illness and substance abuse issues (often both) frequently.

In spite of my education, and in spite of my experience, I only have two years of sobriety, and received a diagnosis of Bipolar II within the past year. You would think my education and experience would have helped me address these concerns earlier, but no such luck. My experience with mental illness and substance abuse (which I talk about in more depth here and here) fits a very common pattern with other folks who struggle with the same issues. As clever and unique as I often think I am, I fell into the same trap so many other people fall into all the time.

Our bodies naturally seek remedies for what ails us. Not doctors ourselves--and very often even if we are doctors--we seek medication that is available to us. Mental illness often contributes to substance abuse, and substance abuse worsens mental illness in the long run. It's a vicious cycle.

I am so glad to have my sobriety, and so thankful that I was able to find whatever courage I could to face up to my mental illness. With a combination of talk therapy and medication, the support of loved ones, and my continuing education and experience, I hope to stay in this pretty-good-place for as long as possible.

And I want more people to look at the roots of their substance abuse. I want more people with mental illness to find the courage to seek help. There is no shame in having mental illness, and there is no shame in being in recovery. In fact, it takes bravery to address both of those issues. If it wasn't for the examples made by so many people I admire in facing up to these problems, I don't know if I'd be able to find the strength in myself to do the same.

There is a lot of stigma attached to mental illness and substance abuse. Only by talking openly about these problems, and by honestly evaluating our own issues, can we make any progress on them as a society, and individually. If you are so inclined, share your story. If you suspect you might have these same problems, reach out to someone. You still have so much life to live, and so much to offer.

Many Americans Don't Understand Freedom

Again and again I hear Americans--especially of the conservative bent--talk about freedom as if it is an either/or proposition; "Homosexuals should be free to marry", or "the government cannot infringe upon our freedom to own guns", or "we should have the freedom to drive any kind of car we would like", and on and on.

The thing many folks don't understand is that whenever a person or population endorses one freedom, they are denying another one. Take our examples one by one: to allow homosexuals to marry, the freedom of bigots to force their subjective moral choices upon our culture is infringed upon. When a government does not regulate gun ownership, the freedom of citizens to live in communities without automatic and semi-automatic weapons is infringed upon. The freedom to drive any kind of car you like--with whatever mode of propulsion--infringes upon your freedom to breathe clean air.

There is no such thing as a free society. The libertarian worldview is truly a fantasy. Every freedom granted to a population or person comes with a freedom denied. What needs to be decided is what the underlying philosophy of the freedoms afforded a population are. A totally free society is not possible, but a just society is.

It is an infringement on the freedom of the wealthy to accumulate and horde wealth to re-distribute that wealth. It is an infringement on the freedom of those whom the wealthy exploit to accumulate and horde their wealth to self determine and self actualize by not re-distributing the wealth concentrated amongst such a small percentage of our population.

The question we have to ask ourselves is 'Why should we grant freedom in one area in this scenario and not the other?'

My personal operating philosophy when it comes to supporting certain freedoms and opposing others are as follows: I support freedoms that promote equality, justice, and human potential. I oppose freedoms that cause harm to others while unfairly benefiting a specific empowered group. I support freedoms that allow individuals to self actualize, and oppose freedoms that cause individuals to stagnate.

I'm sure there are other aspects to my personal view of how freedoms should be allocated, but that's a good snapshot of my personal metric.

We should all have such a metric, and should all understand that when you're talking about freedom, you're not just talking about positives and negatives. With each positive comes a negative, and vice versa.

Stories We Tell Ourselves

I usually check Facebook first thing in the morning. The theme today was pretty religious.

People were asking for prayers. People were quoting bible verses and discussing the deeper aspects of being a believer. My first feeling when seeing Christians putting a public and philosophical spin on their personal psychodrama is condescension. I'm not proud of it, but that's the case. I don't feel any condescension towards people who ask for prayers for urgent situations, because I understand the feeling of free-fall. I understand and respect the humility it takes to ask for help, in whatever way you know how.

My second thought was about how romantic it was to believe that there were powers and principalities conspiring against me, and against mankind. My soul was a prime target in a holy land war, and I was, in my small way, very important. It's flattering to believe that there is a demonic plan to damn you to hell. It's flattering to think that someone--especially someone so powerful--thinks about you that much. It's also reassuring, and flattering, to believe that the almighty God has a special plan for you, and that he is equally interested in your soul, and the fate of mankind in general.

Then I started thinking about the political stories we tell ourselves. There are some grand political dramas being played out in the lives of individuals all over the world, at least in their minds. I am not exempt: not long after I realized that religion provided me with an important purpose-narrative, I began to study and appreciate humanistic Marxism, and its sweeping narrative of the ebb and flow of history, and the obtainable victory of societal self actualization and freedom from all kinds of insidious slavery. Coincidence? Maybe not so much.

We tell ourselves all of these stories. They give our lives a grand scope. How true are the stories we tell ourselves? We can't all be right. We certainly can't all be right all the way across the board, however we might like to be.

I wonder how close to the actual fact of the matter we can allow ourselves to get and still live a meaningful life. I wonder who came closest? Is there an ideology out there that strips away enough of the fiction--however beautiful and invigorating--and still manages to preserve a certain amount of majesty?

I don't know. It's pretty early in the morning.

Recent Status Updates

4/10: Waking up in the morning is like getting renewed for another season. I hope i don't live long enough to jump the shark, on the other hand, i'd hate to get canceled during a cliffhanger. Whatever the case, i am looking forward to my episode with the harlem globetrotters.

4/9:  I miss being bored. When you're a kid, you're bored all the time because you haven't accumulated enough ideas and opinions to keep yourself entertained. You're in a state of accumulation as a kid. If you do things right, you should have enough shit in your head by the time you hit your mid-thirties to not need to listen to the radio on a 30 minute car ride. You should have seen, heard, experienced, and imagined enough stuff to occupy yourself for an indefinite amount of time. I think that's why I miss being bored, because some of the shit you collect in your head as you approach adulthood can pretty horrible.

4/9:  Life is weird.

4/8:  I also wanted to tell you this this morning: I usually like to wake up to the sound of burde chirping outside my window, but this morning there is some bird outside screaming his balls off. It's not exactly a crow sound, but it's pretty close.I'm like, find somewhere else to sing, bro.

4/8:  I've caught myself calling my sons 'bro' a bunch of times lately. I don't know where that is coming from, but I know I should probably stop it before it spreads.

4/7:  I owe all of my success in life to Satan.

4/6:  I am raising money for a Satanic competitor to the 'Upward' Christian-youth sports organisation. Obviously, it will be called 'Downward': Anybody want to donate?

4/6:  Some people who love me tell me I'm not fat, but the notches on my belt have never lied to me.
 Margaret Thatcher dies only a few days after Roger Ebert: coincidence, or is it Biggie and Tupac all over again?

4/6:  my little brother is applying for case management jobs. I am proud of him for going into such an honorable field, and jealous of the agency that will get to have him on their team.

4/5:  Open up all of the windows in your bedroom, strip down to your underwear, and take a nap on top of the covers with your feet at the head of your bed and your head at the foot of your bed. That's what weather like this is good for.

4/5:  Bummed out about rick warren's son. Public understanding of mental illness is so bad. We have to find better ways to help each other.

4/5:  I am 32 years old and I still feel like I barely know anything. I expected age to bring things like wisdom and understanding; not only do I have an increasing awareness of how little I actually do understand, my deficiencies are increasingly apparent. Life conspires to humble me.

4/5:  Unfortunate headline at The Drudge Report: "Bloomberg Fingers Cuomo".

4/4:  If you put your kid on a leash, i hate you.

4/4:  It's not the crazy people who are dangerous; it's the sane people. Crazy can explode, but sane is a slow, gray, persistent poison. It slays with mediocrity, and it takes a lifetime.

4/3:  It's hard to be cynical with a two year old around. Apropos of nothing, langston just said, 'i like rainbows. Do you like rainbows, dada?'. I said yes.

4/3:  Of all the horrible things mankind has spawned, bronies have to be the most unsettling.

Finding My Religion

Writing is the closest thing to a religious rite that I will ever have. Whatever pain is the shadow part of my creativity and enthusiasm for life is worth it, because the thrill of pulling an idea out of the ether and transcribing it the best you can with the tools of your medium is the greatest feeling in the world.

What is even greater is to realize that the ether is inside of you, not outside. In the past, artists have prayed to gods and muses and attempted all manner of voodoo to summon creative spirits to them, because they too were addicts of the creative process. Like all addicts, however, they look for the pusher. There are plenty of people who will be glad to sell you a product that they promise will facilitate your creation, but it's just another product off the cart, and will probably make your dick go limp in the long run.

The ether is inside of you, and it's exciting to feel something new percolating. I feel bad for all of the artists who have killed themselves because they couldn't bare the ebb and flow of the disease anymore; there are long spells of suffering, and they can seem like they will never end, but they do end. When that new epiphany comes to you, it's like you had never been alive at all before you had realized it. What is even more exciting is when you're not sure exactly what is going to come out, but you feel it moving inside of you; you see connections and themes. You see ingredients to the recipe, but have no idea what they go together to make.

For example: I have been possessed by the concept of destructive beauty, or finding beauty in destruction or destruction in beauty, or maybe beauty in spite of destruction. Maybe the theme that I am looking for is the coexistence of the two. In various mediums, the thing occurs to me again and again.

It started when I saw this photo of a bunch of children goofing around in the wake of a car bomb in Northern Ireland:

Then this video by Capital Cities, which pairs joyful images of dancing with the horrors of war and tragedy.

Then I watched the Movie 'The Life of Pi' with my family which conveys my theme quite explicity.

And I notice it everywhere: In Cincinnati, the city where I work, developers are making Over The Rhine--an impoverished area--much more beautiful in a certain respect. They're refurbishing buildings, bringing in new businesses, and have recreated Washington Park into an area that is much more comfortable and attractive. As they do this, however, they're threatening to drive the area's poor into neighboring Price Hill. They are homogenizing the population, and displacing important human services. The new park is very pretty, but gentrification is very ugly.

President Obama is a hope to many, and a breath of fresh air. His election marks an important cultural milestone for our country. He has a beautiful family that can serve as a model for all American families, and he has brought many young people and disenfranchised minorities into the political system. On the other hand, his drones amass civilian casualties in foreign countries with abandon. What does the Pakistani father of a son killed as collateral damage in a drone strike think of President Obama and his beautiful family and progressive policies?

And so it goes. I see the Yin and the Yang everywhere. It makes me very upset at times, but also brings a certain sense of order along with it.

I don't know what these different elements are going to form themselves into in the ether that is inside of me. Maybe the stew will be completely unedible. Who knows? Who cares. I am just a humble pot. I am most alive when I am hot.

I've discovered my religion. If you haven't already, I hope that someday you discover yours.

It's Okay To Need Jesus

This morning, John Loftus posted the following image to his Facebook page:

It's a thought I'm familiar with, and have hitherto been sympathetic to--I guess I'm still sympathetic to it--but I don't think I agree with it anymore.

This idea misses something that I think I also missed until I began working at the shelter I now work at. People--like that asshole Rick Warren--who state that people need God to be good, and state that if they did not have God they would not be good, are not good people. Belief in God does not make them good. Even with a belief in God, they are still inherently assholes. There are others, however--like a lot of folks who live and volunteer in my shelter--who are inherently good (they don't actually 'need' God to be good), who seem to use their religion as a vehicle for their goodness, or use religion as a source of strength to keep themselves afloat, and to keep themselves chugging along. It would be great if the people in the first category would see that it is perfectly possible to do good without their religion, but what business of mine is it to interfere with that? When it comes to the second group--those who use Jesus or Allah or whatever to find the strength to survive in this world--I have completely softened my view. In fact, I may have liquified.

There is a huge difference between someone who says 'If it weren't for God, I would be a serial killer', and someone who says, 'this world throws a lot of shit at me, and other people are hard to trust. Thank God for Jesus'. I believe Rick Warren when he says he'd be out doing all kinds of horrid things if he didn't have Jesus looking over his shoulder. In fact, who even knows what kind of horrid things Rick Warren gets up to? He's certainly said some horrid things. Personally, I wouldn't put anything past the dude. With the second guy, I am in heavy agreement; the world does throw a lot of shit at a person. Other people are very hard to trust. Shit, I'm not always very trustworthy. Wouldn't it be nice if there was some transcendent good guy out there somewhere who's love for us was guaranteed, and who would never sell us out for some kind of real or perceived political or economic advantage?

I know there's no God, and I hope for a day when belief in gods and demons are chucked in the cultural waste bin, but I never hope for a day when the kind of people we serve at our shelter are deprived of whatever they need to get themselves sober, get their mental illnesses treated, help them believe there is a chance in this society for someone who has not always made the best decisions and lacks the kind of personal resources it may take to bounce back from those not-the-best-decisions.

That day is far into the future, though, and I'm not inclined to look down on people who find the strength--however they do it--to make it in this scary, unpredictable, and unjust world that we live in. I believe that heaven and hell are a carrot and stick that mankind has cooked up--an opiate that keeps the masses hoping for a more just world on the other side of this veil of tears--but I don't think that's what a belief in some kind of god always amounts to.

People need to believe in themselves. We need others to believe in us, too. People need human sources of strength, and where there are none to be found, we will invent them.

So maybe if we hope for a day when gods and devils and fairies and goblins are a thing of the past, maybe we should step up for each others and ourselves, and become the people we need to be. If we don't want others to have to rely on imaginary friends to get them through the day, maybe we should try to be real friends to each other, and ourselves?

It's a much harder road, and will be very long in the making, but it is worth the effort, and will be much longer-lasting than simply shaming people out of their faith.

Recent Status Updates

3/22: Whenever I see two people jogging, I like to imagine the person in the back is chasing the person in the front. Today I saw a young guy in pretty good shape jogging, and about fifteen feet behind him there was an older, heavy set guy kind of huffing along. Looking at the older guy I thought, "There's no way he's going to catch that guy...Dude is definitely going to get away".

3/22: Sometimes I feel like I've barely amassed enough wisdom to advise my kids on their elementary school trials and tribulations. Hopefully I'll have collected enough of the good stuff to advise them through their teens, twenties, and thirties by the time they reach those stages. Parenting is a humbling vocation.

3/21: Jesus wants you to be a sheep, baby; I want you to be the wolf that I know you are.

3/20: People waste years and years studying the intricacies of a given issues when it turns out all they really needed to understand EVERY issue was to just tune into a couple of hours of conservative talk radio every weekday.

3/20: Confession: I spend very little time thinking about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

3/19: Fuck today right in the ass.

3/16: The next time a comic company decides to kill off one of its most popular heroes to boost sales, I hope they don't have the character die in an epic battle to save the universe. It would be better if they died because they got drunk and forgot to turn the gas stove off, and then fell asleep with a lit cigarette in their hand. Wolverine comes to mind.

3/15: I can't think of a less rewarding job than being a wwf ref. Nobody listens to those guys.

3/15: I feel bad for all of the women in my life because they have to deal with me, but I don't know what I would do without them. They're the only reasonable people I know.

3/13: I think it's funny when people start to speculate about a new pope's potential move towards more modern views on social issues. I am sure there have been plenty of gay popes, but i doubt a pope will ever endorse gay marriage. I'm glad for that, too. It just hastens the church's journey to obscurity, and provides a needed shadow to the light of progress, reason, and humanism.

3/13: I like it when there is snow on the roof of music hall. It's pretty.

3/12: Hey, do you guys remember Sarah Palin? What the fuck was that all about?

3/11: Let's get old and fat together.

3/10: I chastise my kids for picking their noses, but i pick my nose all the time.

3/10: Reading accounts of the tribulations of afflicted artists in Kay Redfield Jamison's 'touched with fire', it occurs to me that if god had really wanted to make Christ suffer, he would have given him manic-depression instead of sending him to the cross.

Mistakes Were Made!

What you see happening to the Republican Party right now is a microcosm of what has happened--and was inevitable to happen--to capitalism itself.

The Republicans have isolated women, homosexuals, non-christians,  the poor, and every person that is colored any color except white and pink. They've even isolated a lot of those white and pink folks.

The reason for this is that the Republican Party is the official party of Capitalism. The Democratic Party is a Capitalist party too, don't get me wrong, but they're a little more tempered. They're second string. To stick with language a Capitalist would understand, The Democrats are the Pepsi of Capitalism, while The Republicans are Coca Cola.

This isolation was inevitable, because Capitalism is about isolation. It is about protecting a given class and type above other classes and types. It sells itself as fair, but like so many of its other products, its actuality does not live up to its advertisement. Capitalism is about promoting the interests of the ruling class, and allowing the lower classes to breed and experience just enough freedom to keep them invested in the promulgation of the existing system.

It is so short sighted, too. It occurs to me now that it must be this way by design, but too bad for the Capitalist that he never thought to include other groups in his success. Being a white, christian man, he had to make sure that too much advantage wasn't given to other populations. Sure, tokens could rise up through sheer, mad, work from time to time, but that's no big deal. It gave the white christian man something exotic to look at in the office, and a reassurance that he was expansive. Rather than extending opportunity to others--something The Capitalist is definitionally unable to do--he hoarded it.

And now the populations of 'others' are growing. And fast.

The White Christian Man is scared.

I would say it didn't have to be that way, but I guess it really did. An interesting phenomenon can be noted when talking to members of these 'other groups'. However socially conservative, however traditional in the rest of their outlooks, members of 'other' groups tend to be far more sympathetic to Marxism than the White Christian Man is. This is too bad, because Marxism could benefit the White Christian Man too, but The White Christian Man has been too burdened by propaganda about what Marxism really is. While The White Christian Man was receiving mega doses of anti-marxist propaganda in the fifties and sixties, black people were being knocked over by Capitalist fire hoses. Women were being sexually harassed and trivialized in the work place. Gays and Atheists were being forced to remain in closets, lest they lose everything they had worked for in this society.

In the early 1900's, while The Capitalist was looking forward to a productive century, Lenin was having a 'Letter to The American Worker' smuggled into the country. he was appealing to 'The Other' to rise up, and claim America for itself. This man who is viewed today as a virtual devil by so many White Christian Men was doing his best to empower 'the others' all around the world. That is why his message--and Marx's message--can still receive an unbiased hearing in so many 'other' communities these days.

Mistakes were made by the Capitalists in America, but they were bound to be made. As The White Christian Man finds himself moving closer and closer to minority status himself, he is making token gestures that he is much more inclusive than he has in actuality been. It's not his fault, though. It is the fault of Capitalism. He was just at the top of the totem pole, and had become intoxicated with privilege (as any person reaching the top would be).

The White Christian Man can still redeem himself, but he's going to have to abandon his Capitalism in order to do so.

He is going to have to promote equality and justice before it is foisted upon him.

Living With the Demon

Things got off to a rocky start today.

This morning, my car was covered with frost. I didn't clear off the passenger side window, and when turning onto the main road at the end of my street, I horribly miscalculated where I was at and hit the telephone pole on the corner. It knocked the passenger side window off, and put a bunch of splinters in the rim of my tire. There's also a huge scrape down the side of my car. Lesson learned: take the time to clear off your windows before driving in the morning.

Then I attempted to break up a fight between two large men at the shelter. Typically, I am able to de-escalate conflicts, but one of the guys wasn't having it, and he steamrolled through me to get to the other guy. I called the police, and watched as several other men tore the two fighters apart.

I hate it when I have no influence on a situation that is veering towards disaster. It is a helpless feeling, and I hate to be helpless.

A co-worker told me my bad luck was due to challenges thrown in my way by 'principalities and powers'. She was referencing the book of Ephesians:

"For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places."

She said there was evil in the air today. I thanked her for her council and shrugged my shoulders. I didn't say so, but the principalities and powers she referred to are mythological forces that I find myself in great sympathy with. Satan has always appeared to me to be the ultimate tragic-romantic hero, the ultimate freedom fighter. I doubt Satan would throw roadblocks in my way, because I am decidedly on his side. My bad luck this morning was more due to bad decisions (mine) and violent temperaments (the fighters). I can control one of those factors moving forward.

After I finally got into my office, I looked up some information Malala Yousafzai. She had been on my mind lately, and I wanted to check on her progress. I found this video, which inspired me:



Such courage, from such a small girl. Her struggles and triumphs put my terrestrial concerns in a much larger perspective.

I don't know why I am writing this. Recently I heard John Irving say writing was, for him, like the urge to have sex, the urge to sleep, the urge to eat. I identified with that. I refer to my urge to write as my demon. I become possessed by an emotional impetus, or an idea, and I am just compelled to type away.  Usually, I will write about something philosophical or political, or maybe something I think is funny, but right now I find myself with just the urge, and no real understanding of what the purpose of the urge is. So I've written this.

I don't care about being paid for writing, and I don't care too much about notoriety. I link to my pieces on Facebook, and cross post them at The Daily Kos sometimes, because writing seems like something that needs to be shared. It just feels wrong to keep it to yourself. The few pieces I have written for local newspapers have been to benefit a cause; that is a little different.

I write because I have to, because the demon tells me to. I like the demon most of the time. Sometimes he is horrible, but most of the time, he is beautiful. If I am going to continue living with him, I will have to write, even when the objective of the piece isn't clear.

"And Ye Shall Be As Gods"

My friend Andrew posted the following Carl Sagan quotation on Facebook:

“But surely there is a message in the heavens that the finiteness not just of life but of whole worlds, in fact of whole galaxies, is a bit antithetical to the conventional theological views in the West, although not in the East. And this then suggests a broader conclusion. And that is the idea of an immortal Creator.

By definition, as Ann Druyan has pointed out, an immortal Creator is a cruel god, because He, never having to face the fear of death, creates innumerable creatures who do. Why should He do that? If He’s omniscient, He could be kinder and create immortals, secure from the danger of death. He sets about creating a universe in which at least many parts of it, and perhaps the universe as a whole, dies. And in many myths, the one possibility the gods are most anxious about is that humans will discover some secret of immortality or even, as in the myth of the Tower of Babel, for example, attempt to stride the high heavens. There is a clear imperative in Western religion that humans must remain small and mortal creatures. Why? It’s a little bit like the rich imposing poverty on the poor and then asking to be loved because of it.”

To which I responded:

"I think our mortality is something that makes us much more precious--and infinitely more valuable--than any god man could dream up. Think of that...we invented an infinite god; what is the greatest thing our infinite, invented god could invent? Only us, only mere mortals."

To follow that train of thought to its natural conclusion, we invented the god who invented us, therefore we invented us. Human beings will always need stories--and we will always tell stories--but we are coming increasingly into an age where we needn't insist that our stories are anything more than stories. Great ideas and horrible ideas have incubated in the womb of religion; religion has allowed us to depersonalize our thought, to project our values, and to create a grand narrative to our lives. Increasingly, we can see behind the myth of religion, and look at the mechanics of what it has allowed us to do. It was a stage in our intellectual and spiritual evolution; it was the birthplace of the sciences, of philosophy, of art, of civic mindedness, and curiosity in general. I am feeling magnanimous this afternoon, so I won't get into some of the uglier things it birthed.

But we increasingly don't need it. In our humility and naivete we created gods and told stories about how they created us, and how they want to facilitate our growth to make us closer to them. We are coming to realize that there are no gods, and that we are the authors of our own stories, and our own world. 

Mankind is growing up.

Recent Status Updates

3/8: Marcus Aurelius said we should view each night when we go to sleep as a little death, and each morning when we wake up as a little birth. I agree; I am awake, and this morning I will not be circumcised.

 3/7: I figure it must be time to do something about my neck hair when I catch myself tucking it into the collar of my shirt.

3/6: Sometimes getting stuck in traffic is a blessing: anything to make us slow down for a moment.

3/2:  I can't believe I waited as long as I did to read The Sandman comics. They're so good!

2/28: Today I am equally thankful to my friends and my enemies; in your different ways, you have all made me stronger.

2/27:  I just got this text message from my wife: "Jack told me this morning that when he has a kid he's giving one to Spencer because he doesn't have any sperm left because he keeps kicking him in the balls." Lol. Kids.
  
2/25: Walk around Clifton on Sunday with a backpack on, people assume you're a student. Walk around OTR Sunday with a backpack on, get offered a bologna sandwich.

2/24: Langston just brought me a stack of paper plates that he had drawn on and said 'Let's play hats'. Then we took turns putting each plate on our heads.

2/14: At Bogarts, hiding my erection with a bunch of other hipsters who are pretending not to be too excited to see Marc Maron.

2/14: Woody Allen movies always lift my spirits. I think it's because he's just as confused as I am. Commiseration is therapeutic.

2/13: I've decided to one up Mike Moroski: Not only am I for homosexual marriage, I'm also against heterosexual marriage.

2/12: It makes me gag whenever a caller to a talk radio show announces their military status with the clear expectation of being stroked by the host.

2/12: It is an absolute scandal in my house when there is one fewer icing packet in the box than there are toaster strudels. The fear creeps in: is one of my children a capitalist?

2/10: Idea for a cyberpunk horror story: hackers break into Facebook and erase all of the likes and shares on everybody's posts. One rugged investigator must find a way to restore them before the majority of the population commits mass suicide from validation depletion.

2/9: Overhearing the conversation of a bunch of drunk middle-aged men at dinner tonight made me grateful for my sobriety.

2/9: When I think of the sheer number of books I want to read, my head nearly explodes. It will take the rest of my life to even get close. Not only that, as soon as I start reading one book, I start lusting after the next. I am an unfaithful bibliophile, and my eye is ever wandering.

2/8: Local taco joint is advertising for their tax service. Sounds legit.

2/8: Good names for a store that sells tie-dye shirts: 'we're all gonna dye', 'dye, dye, dye my darling', 'dye with me'. A non-profit that inspires troubled kids through group tie-dye projects:'only the good dye young'. I feel like you get the joke.

2/7: The religious mind cheapens poetry by insisting that it also be literally true; the mountains do not actually hear your cries. Your heart does not tell you who to love. The Sand Man doesn't seduce you to sleep, there are no Gods in heaven, and there is no heaven. Poetry is beautiful because it points to things we cannot describe. It allows us to characterize that which cannot be adequately characterized by plain language. Poetry points to something higher (or lower) without being that higher or lower thing. The lord is truly with us, but that is because the lord is something we have invented.

2/2: At home with Abby for 2 days in a row. It often seems like we're night and day managers of our family, only passing each other on the way to our other jobs. Every full day i get with her feels like a holiday.