That's it. I'm done passively digesting all of this garbage. it's time to stand up and start doing. Stop whining, stop blaming the things you don't like about your life on other people (Muslims, Republicans, Liberals, Rich People, Young People etc). The world is not unchangeable, and instead of bemoaning how powerless you are to change it, take action. We all have the power to make this life more than it is, and it doesn't start in the halls of Congress, it doesn't begin with other groups conforming to fit your world view, it begins with YOU. Today, right here, right now, YOU have the power to influence the world around you in a positive, meaningful way. Even though it doesn't seem like it, real change starts with the individual, deep inside, an active decision to not accept things as they are and to take part in changing them for the better. The same old human frailties and insecurities are the REAL opposition. Not the people who want to come here and live better lives, not the people who want the violence to end, not the people who go to church on Sundays, not the people who just want a chance to see their children prosper and be left to live their lives. Many of you will say,"BUT that's exactly what WE want! It's those OTHERS that won't leave us be, so we have to be reactionary to DEFEND ourselves." That is complete ******* and you know it. It's bad logic and it's the kind of crap governments have been using to justify wars of aggression since the dawn of civilization. Hate, Greed, Fear, Jealousy, these are our real enemies, and all the actions we take that are based on them are invariably marred by their origin. With the whole country choosing sides, and trying to force me to choose one or the other, I refuse. I don't accept either party's world view, I will NEVER accept the xenophobia and horror that they propagate to further themselves. Their ONLY purpose is to make us believe that WE NEED THEM, but in fact it is we who should reflect on just how absolutely THEY NEED US. Now, I'm not asking any more of you than I do of myself. I don't expect people to drop everything and go start a revolution, or to become monks and attain Nirvana, or whatever highest attenuation of your belief system. What I do expect, is for all of us to remember that we have unimaginable power to affect those around us in our daily lives, just by simply giving hope and encouragement, by building each other up, instead of insecurely hoarding affection because we think there's not enough of it. Don't be discouraged, don't believe the lies that are fed you everyday about your fellow humans and their intentions, don't ever forget that WE MAKE THE WORLD AS WE SEE FIT, SO DON"T MAKE IT ******. Times are dark, but the odds aren't insurmountable by any means, there is real, positive action that can be taken, workable solutions that can be achieved. I hope to see you on the other side.
‪#‎AUTONOMYNOW‬

When I'm lonely, I can't find any of them anywhere. When I'm sick of them, they're all over the place.

The place I go where they play Led Zep and don't give a ****. Basically the place I go when I don't wanna pretend anymore.

When you finally stop accepting lies from the rest of the world, keep in mind that you won't be able to stand your own ******* anymore either.

Encounter II

You cried the first night we spent together, and the night after, and almost every night since. At first I feared it was something that I was doing, some piece of love you needed that I couldn't give. Hateful as it sounds, you weren't the first that I've loved like that. Hopefully I'll love none after you and won't have to worry about the last. Regardless, I've come to love myself enough though, with your help, to understand that it wasn't lack of love that caused you to sob into my shoulder. It wasn't some failing of mine that pushed you to seek out what comfort I could give. You cried in front of me because you trusted me enough to do so. You had no part to play, no face to wear other than your own. And now, deep in the wee hours when you fold yourself in to me, I don't question. I give all I have of myself, so that you can sleep peacefully.

Blood

Let the Christians call it the devil's work, but I call it love. Really, if we want to get outrageous about it, most of their practices are just as anthropologically based as all other human ritual. All lovers have little rituals, small things that only they know, quirks and nuances that are the real mortar that hold the walls of their relationship together. Herodotus became an inside joke, my cheap metal raven head became a symbol, we trail leaves over each other after ******* (if available), our foreplay includes brushes and india ink, etc. When we began rearing up what we are to each other though, that work began with blood, as all holy things do....

"Baby, c'mere. Please?"

"Honey what the **** happened, you're bleeding everywhere?!?"

Wrapped your wrist in the gauzz I keep beneath the sink for just such an occasion. Insisted we sleep on the couch so I could hold you and you could watch your favorite shows at the same time. Spent enough time sleeping on couches anyway. Sleeping on one with you, listening to Jude Law talk up Cameron Diaz or some **** was gorgeous.

Weeks later

"Darlin, I ****** this one up."

"Don't say **** like that babe, what happened?"

"You know how I've been ******* about my ear hurting?"

"Yeeeaaaahhhh?" as you walk down the hallway.

You see the amount of blood on the tissue

"******* Daniel! C'mon, we're going to the MediQuick right the **** now!"

You did your damndest not to touch my ears for weeks after that, and it took a month of me saying they didn't hurt for you to start biting them again.

Submission*

I never want to give you up. But I'm not afraid of change. It's one of our favorite games, pretending we are elsewhere, loving like the world is different. Like we are different. Knowing that it's all transitory, knowing that these blue sky days will end. I always remember the Hospitaller in Kingdom of Heaven(played by David Thewlis), saying that even if something has only lived for a while, it still has lived. I try to keep that in mind on those occasions when we wander from each other. We will end, eventually, somehow, probably incredibly unwillingly....but that doesn't mean all that we are isn't beautiful.

Boxes

God in heaven how I hate Frank Lloyd Wright's creations. Not aesthetically mind you, just how his vision makes me feel. And deeper than that, how you act when you're in one of his buildings or stare at his work for too long. You lose a little vitality when you spend too much time staring at boxes arranged in different patterns. You start trying to arrange everything else into neat little lines and clearly defined delinations. Too long, and you start doing it to me, to us. You start acting how I did before we came together. And it scares me.

Death*

It's always strange watching people's reactions to death. Most of the time they get cold. They get analytical. The whole stages of grief thing I guess. Circumstances of the death play a part, as well as how close the dearly departed is/was to us. Leftover's from our Hellenistic roots maybe? A good death is one earned in pursuit of something. A death in battle, a death by drowning at sea, one earned in struggle. But deaths by freak accident seem too, Dickensian I suppose. A boy drowns in a pool while his dad is in the bathroom, a woman is crushed by a tree randomly falling on her kitchen in high winds, a man falls from a wooden ladder while cleaning a chimney, a church roof suddenly caves in on a whole congregation for no reason. Let's keep it all bottled up inside and pretend like there's some other option besides acceptance.

Encounter

It was afterward, in the light from a streetlamp
you sobbed and said that you wished we hadn't.
Anyone else and I'd have taken my cue, left, and drank till sunrise.
For some reason I stayed (having no choice really)
pulled you close and asked why, expecting an answer I'd already
heard many, many times before.
You looked into me, and said 'You smell like pine needles.
The next one won't smell like you, and I won't be able to pretend
that he or she is you.'
That was not the answer I had a defense for.
"You smell like cinnamon, and I want to run. But I won't leave,
unless you want me to."

Winds*

"Let me tell you about winds," said I, trailing an apricot leaf across your left breast. Giggling, you tried to bite my nose. "Shut up you, I love that book too, and I know Herodotus better than you ever will."
"Ah yes, you were his lover at one time if I recall."
"Indeed I was, long before you and your sandy hair came on the scene. Your hair IS sandy."
"It is so totally NOT sandy, it's light brown. And all the grey is your fault."
Sauntering to the bathroom, you gave me the finger as you bent down to turn on the hot water. I waited till I saw steam, long enough for you to let your guard down, and hit you in the *** dead center with an apricot.
"Good shot you *******, but that's no way to treat a lady."
"Whoever said you were a lady cheri?"
Laughing, you tried to shove soap in my mouth as I slid into the scalding water. The tub was a bit cramped for two people, but we didn't mind. We never minded when we were forced together, at least here was privacy. (Although there are few things sweeter than a stolen kiss in a train full of singing Rajput schoolchildren, a story for another time)