Mar 12 2010

Drunken Diary (Who I Really Am)

I’m an anarchist.

A Green.

A Libertarian Communist.

A refugee from the Brave New World.

This is my Iceland.

Orwell is my hero.

I’d rather live in New Zealand.

Or Lebanon.

I love the Amish.

I hate war.

I’ve seen the top of the Ivory Tower.

And the gutter.

I love this place, because there are real people here.

Stokely Carmichael and Fred Hampton are my heroes.

I’m the guy pissing on the tent.

I’m tired of pretending.

I’m “coming out.”

I love punk rock.

I’m a Southern Buddhist.

I have a commune.

I love bluegrass.

These are my people, as are you:  

37 comments

Skip to comment form

  2. Del McCoury Band…

    KICKASS!!

  4. better personality double for myself .. Eli Wallace 😀 (@7:57)

  5. pass the Moon, son, Nic Nic…

    A good banjo player makes it look easy, but it is sooo fucking hard to finger pick like that! I know, I play a little square-neck lap style dobro, it ain’t easy?

    • rossl on March 12, 2010 at 22:10
    • #

    You’re making me uncomfortable…

    If we’re into talking about who we are, I think I’m going to be poor when I grow up.  Not because I want to be (at least not consciously), but because that’s what most of the careers I see myself doing would have me become.  Public service usually doesn’t pay well.  But now my family is pretty wealthy.  Technically, we’re actually in the top 1% of the nation in terms of income, I believe, although we’re nowhere near to being millionaires.  My dad is a doctor and my mom is a part time dentist.  I’m not sure how I feel about this.

  8. kind of sums up my mood at the moment.

    America I’ve given you all and now I’m nothing.

    America two dollars and twenty-seven cents January 17, 1956.

    I can’t stand my own mind.

    America when will we end the human war?

    Go fuck yourself with your atom bomb

    I don’t feel good don’t bother me.

    I won’t write my poem till I’m in my right mind.

    America when will you be angelic?

    When will you take off your clothes?

    When will you look at yourself through the grave?

    When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites?

    America why are your libraries full of tears?

    America when will you send your eggs to India?

    I’m sick of your insane demands.

Comments have been disabled.