AUTHOR.CALHO: If I didn't write it, I would be hitch hiking cross country to Maine and then Alaska in that order. While taking frequent breaks to spread leaflets. And sit in diners. And write on things because I wasn't at a computer. I may still do that in a few years. Writing this also helps me forget about and better understand the limitations of being human, and keeps me busy enough to allow me no free time to burn the world down.

THEMATIC.ABOUT : Collapse often. The things that hold people together and hold them apart and scatter brains. The things that make thoughts go boom. The things that ooh and aah and [expletive deleted]. Sometimes poking around the margins where responsibility ends and the only one to look to is the Original Equipment Manufacturer and say "but, I already pressed 9 for more options and the menus are exactly the same. Can you just replace it?" The answer will be: "please hold." Sometimes hanging out in dark corners. Sometimes following the train tracks. Looking for ways out and ways in and all the while sharing the things seen and heard and done and drawn and written and scorched and healed and teased and caged and dreamed along the way.

7/2/16

That Instant

you realize yourself and your father probably would have been very good friends had you been born by another and met off hand on Staten Island, age difference accounted for.  Enough in common and enough apart to be able to enjoy one another and argue happily til the sun went down and jog and spar and spit at one another and open doors and windows by force and hear voices til the sun came up.

You realize your birth cramped his style as much as his efforts to raise you cramped your own and you understand everything happened too close and too cramped.

And you realize there is still furious anger and distilled righteousness in both veins and arteries to ever get to a place where you can see him without having to move ten feet away to not attempt to tear his esophagus out of his throat with your fingernails.
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