HK Blog

They're sending the flotilla passengers to Ketziot. They're sending them to Israeli Gitmo, or more like Abu Ghraib. I applaud the bravery of these activists, but I must say... it seems like peace is not the answer here. I think we're going to have to get our hands dirty. Now, I don't think I'm special or anything, I'm not Superman y'know. But I have to say that doing just the peaceful kind stuff is starting to bug me. It's a bug in my brain. I can't help but feel like we all have a call to action that we're just too afraid to heed. We're afraid for the right reasons, of course... but I think we might need to do it afraid. "Do it afraid" has been so helpful to me. The only Palestinian who seems to always be in my DMs is this guy who has learned my pay schedule and demands money every day. It's a little hawkish. I'm not sure what to do in that situation. It's weird, because nobody can say that a person living through a gen...

It sucks that Patti Smith is as incredible as she is, especially given that she has mostly good politics, because then it's like... why did you name your song that? I still stan, though I reserve the right to pass judgement on that particular thing. The only reason I'm thinking about this is because I'm currently listening to Horses. I was lookin' for yo-o-uuuu, and now you're gone-gone I don't know why specifically Redondo Beach is my favorite song she did, I think maybe there's just something wrong with me. I got pushed so far into the artsy weirdo pocket that in my eyes, the idea of writing lyrics and singing on a track feels like making "normal music." And it is NOT. Despite my bias. I think given my fundamentals as a musician and techno head, my capacity to enjoy the process of writing lyric-focused stuff has been stunted. Severely stunted. I feel like I've also been falling into a certain trap with comparing myself to everyone else. Like,...

I was listening to that song by Adrianne Lenker, Not A Lot, Just Forever. Trust a song like that to turn me to an old sap again. It made me think about too much. I don't know when I shook off the irony. I don't remember the exact day or time. Except as I'm writing, I remember. I remember when it happened. I remember the confusion when it happened. I remember seeing her girlfriends's  tweets . How she didn't know what was going on. She didn't believe it. I didn't understand what was going on. I remember finding the letter. I was so confused, and then I read. And it all felt like a joke. I remember where I was when I found out that Eden died. I was in Frankenmuth, on a family trip. I was in a restaurant, they had the best barbecue, the best. And I didn't give a shit about any of that. I was so full of the arsenic, the pain of that sick fucking joke. It was like... I don't pretend to understand what life has made me become. I just hope I can do right by...

The Sumud is first and goal right now. They can't fumble, they cannot choke. We need our team to make it to the end zone, we need boots on the ground in Gaza. Checking in with all of my friends, both American and Palestinian. I need to know how my loved ones are holding up. You would not believe the things these kids tell you in their innocence. It's, sometimes, a little uncomfortable. My job does involve me in communication with the kids of our community, I learn so much from what I do. The single greatest reward my job offers to my life is the ability to communicate with the youth and understand their needs. There is so much humanity in what I have been chosen to do, you know. In the tongue of warmth, we compel each other to speak of what is needed, not only of what it is feared. Kids will tell you so innocently about their fathers threatening their mothers with violence, y'know. Or, they might reveal, unknowingly, the ways in which they've been abused in recent days....

 I remembered I have a camera on my laptop I still look like a boy you can throw your tomatoes later Okay so the picture with boobs out look better but for obvious reasons I will NOT be posting those. No. Those are for Twitter. Okay I'm going to bed actually now good night guys!

So when I'm drunk I write like that. I think maybe I  do  like myself. Today I was put into the mood to indulge. I've become attached to the method and dream of David Lynch's works, again and again. It's a spell that is cast on the senses, a tug at my feelings that I am powerless to resist. In the world of dreams, we see too much, and for this revelation, our hearts will always be enough. Truthtellers of the mind, our subconscious will keep the score, tallied in a place we can never know. Comfort and suffering are sisters in arms. Their vexes and vices entangled with their pleasures. Whether it's you or me... let yourself fall into the spectrum of R.E.M. messaging. You'll find an answer. When writing the many stories and manuscripts of the maladaptive individuals that stay in my mind, the world of the ZRD I machinated so many years ago, I was chiefly inspired and motivated by the faces and scenery of my dreams. The events of the story were often inspired more by...

 So I made some mistakes last night! Small mistakes, nothing I can't fix, but still. I left my phone at the bar, was too sloshed to stay coordinated. I'll have to visit later today to get it back. My friend left his card there too, that's what we get taking those massive swigs of Guinness with abandon. I will tell you reader, I am in fact inebriated while writing this. This should tell you just how bad that psychological episode was that my literacy fell out of form, because the one thing I can never shake in 99% of circumstances, no matter how dire, is my ability to pontificate. Hanging out with Mr. Renaissance is always the greatest treat. Not a tear shed, only the best vibes. Even when running at loss, it's nothing but fun. I am privileged to have such incredible friends, such remarkable characters to share moments with. I remember regaling him of my regrets in seeing a friend in an unfavorable circumstance at the conference, but in his impartial audience I was reass...