For everyone.

I'm disgusting. I disgust me.
These stumps. These stumps will never bring any beauty, or truth.
These pins. These scarred, charred cracking pins will never walk a beautiful mile upholding a beautiful mind thinking a beautiful thought. Never. Ever.
A thousand people will die to uphold this fascile monstrosity.
Lord, please help.
The seeds are there. There are no shortcuts or rivers to drink from or genes or blood.
Surely, lord, please.
It can work.
It has to work.
Amen.

'clap your hands (this country is me)'

I wrote this earlier this month, before there even was a 'Rotten Bastards' blog, or at least before I knew about it. Nobody tells me anything on time. This song isn't about rising up. It's about years and years and years of not rising up.

And after all that, maybe just a little, it's about owning up and then speaking up.

'clap your hands (this country is me)'

if your country can afford a rope to hang a man, clap your hands
and when your country is too fucking broke to feed you, eat your hands
if your country hates women and only loves the faggots when they're on tv,
clap your hands,
your country is me
clap, clap
clap, clap
your country is me
clap, clap
clap, clap
your country is me

if your country is sick and slowly dying from the drugs, stomp your feet
if your country was against them before they were against us, stomp your feet
and if it smells like shit everywhere you stomp your feet, check your shoes
then clap your hands,
because your country is you
clap, clap
clap, clap
your country is you
clap, clap
clap, clap
your country is you

if your country has been hijacked and you know it, hang your head,
and we'll play heads-up, 7&7-up 'til the day the we're all dead,
if your country was built on Freedom, but you're too busy clapping to even try be free,
then clap your hands, and repeat:
"this country is me"
clap, clap
clap, clap
this counrty is me
clap, clap
clap, clap
this country is me

if you could afford to buy this cd, i hope you stole it and fed a man
because this country isn't free and you know it, so clap your hands...
clap your hands...

clap, clap
clap, clap
this country is me
clap, clap
clap, clap
this country is me
clap, clap
clap, clap
this country is me
clap, clap
clap, clap
this country is me.

I hope you enjoyed my little song. It's your song, too. I wrote it, but I can't really take credit for it. It's ours, now. After all, I've never risen up in my life.

I can't even clap.

ad astra per aspera

When I was growing up I used to read the dictionary. I used to love the new words like crepuscular and inly. We had this old red paperback Webster's Dictionary that had this section in the back of foreign phrases. I used to pore over that section more than any other. My favourite was Ad Astra Per Aspera which means "To The Stars By Hard Ways" in Latin. I used to write it everywhere. I wrote it on the floor of my ex boyfriends attic bedroom. Initially I wrote Ad Astra then when things turned sour I added the Per Aspera. I wanted to get it tattooed. My Mum said that you had to be careful what you had written on your body. She said that I probably didn't want the words "By Hard Ways" on my body no matter how pretty they looked. What you write effects you She said. So I decided on Ad Astra. To the stars. However it happens, I'm going to get there.

rise up

Show that you rise up against the 'system' with buying our new designer Che shirt for only $80. Made in a sweatshop factory in Korea, it is a quality product. Give the finger to the man with one of these limited made shirts. Only 10,000 available at your local Gap. Look closely and you will not only see a certificate of authenticity on the tag but a copyright symbol to prove how rebellious you really are. Not one of those other copycats with their cheap and fake Che shirts, this was endorsed by the man himself. Don't forget about our Mao pants and Lenin hats to complete your wardrobe.

"they are paying me to record this, even more if you hear it" - saul williams

prise u

Rise up rise up today before the light of a new day shines its cold hard so unfuckingforgiving rays into the rationale or worthiness of your particular rising exposing all the faultlines and visible joins consigning yet another last great hope into the shitter along with the rest of it.

What is a very good year?

So another year gone and a new one just begun.

Another opportunity gone begging and a million more on the horizon.

Get up off your arse you goddamnlazysonofabitch! Do something. Anything.

You tell yourself that this is the year that you're really gonna make it happen. "I'm gonna rise up above all the shit and do something with my life."

Of course you said the same thing last year. And the year before. And before that. Constantly promising improvements and never delivering.

That's not to say that you're a miserable fuck. Well I'm sure a few of you are, but not everyone. It's just that there's so much that remains unfulfilled. All the shit you wanted to do and didn't.

The book you wanted to write, the play you wanted to audition for, the girl you wanted to fuck.

Missed opportunities and disappointments. They are what makes a man. The fuck ups, the rejections, the regrets.

These are the things that make you want to be a better person. To rise up against all the bullshit and take a stand and say, "I will be better than I once was!"

And most of you are.

The 2007 model is most likely the best version of you that you've been able to produce given your circumstances. Sure, some of you will always be complete cunts and are beyond redemption. But luckily you are in the minority.

The rest of you need to improve. Even if you're only deluding yourself, it's still worth it. Nobody's perfect, least of all me.

So be bold. Take the risk. Land on your face.

And as the late James Brown used to say "Get on up!"