"A heavy stone, sold my red horse for a venture home. " Lumps Sum by Bon Iver
2009-01-25, 9:05 p.m.

I've been meaning to at least give everyone a music updated. Bon Iver.
I'm beyond obsessed.

Today I went to a poetry jam in the west bank (the New orleans west bank). It was amazing. It was finished off by this Palestinian poet named Remi Kanazi. One of his poems was about coexistence. How we don't want to coexist. We want justice, and that will take it from there. We don't want to scrub the toilets of israeli congressmen, we want to be in congress representing our people.

And he read another one about identity. How he felt like he was an arab trying to be a white boy trying to be black. Isn't that what we all try to be. We try to be ourselves pretending to be another person who's trying to be someone else. Round about my loves, but follow my lines. Here you are, reading your magazine wanting so badly to look like him or like her, but who dressed the model. Sure didnt dress themselves. And the person who dressed the model doesn't look anything like the model. They just made it up. We all want a dream, we all want to be a dream, and live in a dream. Why do you think so many people lose life to an endless world of highs? Pay money for an hour of freedom from reality? Because they can't stand it. NEWS for you. NO ONE can stand it. I feel like crawling out of my skin every fucking day. And so is your next door neighbor. It doesn't matter how small their hurt, how little it is, they're in pain. And the pain paralyzes some people. People in palestine are melting, literally melting as white phosphorus launched by Israel clings to their skin and sinks to the bone, where there's nothing else for it to devour. Israel launches white phosphorus to eat the faces of Children and we paid for it. The only reason I can think of, to help me sleep at night, as to why no one cares? Because too many people are paralyzed by their own pain it's a simple conclusion, and even if I'm wrong, this is my illusion. Leave it for me, ignorance is bliss. It's because we're all in pain. Becuase some of us learn to rise above it, to embrace it, to turn it into good, or into progress or even into art. Other's of us can't get past it, so how the hell are we supposed to deal with everyone else's pain too? I won't judge. I used to hate you. i used to hate you for sitting idle and doing nothing. But then I'd have to hate myself. If I listened, if I helpd you heal your soul, would you go to a rally? Would you write a poem for the weary? Sing a song for the others saddened by war, drought, famine. If I give you ink, and paper, will you tell me? I'll listen. And we'll move on, and we'll create a world where the downtrodden are strong, and we all lift each other up. Where we look OUTSIDE ourselves and understand OTHERS pains, and we learn to tell congress that WE THE PEOPLE don't want to spend 3 billion dollars a year to support a nation that opressess millions and kills over 500 children in an illegal war, to protect their illegal settlements and their illegal walls. And sure, they're in pain too. But it doesn't give them a right, it doesn't make it ok. If I give you ink and a pen, will you tell them? Would you speak with me? One of the poets called to the audience today and told us to speak together. Speak with me. Write a song, write a poem, write a story, say something to your neighbor. Their pain is just as deep as yours, and they dont have magazines to show them what they wish they could be. They just wish they can be like you and me . . .free. "Injustice anywhere, is injustice everywhere." That was MLK. I didn't mean for that to turn into a whole incoherent bonanza. But I'm too tired to edit it, and really I'm just updating for Rhania. Lucky for me this is her homepage. I feel bad since it's an obviously unchanging homepage . . .