for a first entry I can start with what brought me here. life. my life. and the reclaiming that comes with being born in the west. my anti-capital, anti-consumerist mind had been dwelling in classrooms for far too long, and I wrote a first poem in May 2008. my mind became consumed not with (things), or image, but rather with the art of life. so not so slowly, but everso surely, I drew my attention towards what plagues this world, and shortly thereafter, what could be done about it. as a political science major always sitting in the back of the classroom, waiting for my upper (there is no middle) class peers to slip down the slope of americanist ideals, so I could pounce on the chance to be right, I found myself drawn to Black Studies. Took a course with an old friend and fell in love with the Black Panthers on spring days stuck inside institutions strung out on prescription medication, rather than being out in the thick of it living. school was just never enough, so I moved back home and poetry began to spill out on pages, with one of those fist journal entries being, "onwards to Portland", well before I met any of the people I would later fall in love with and move to that very city with on a church bus I would spend a book's worth of time and effort getting home, if I were smart enough to write books. Sometime during summer, I traded my mini-fridge, a last of the possessions I still had from those beer drinking, pill-popping times in Columbia, Missouri for a bass guitar, one I would let sit in an ex-band mates dorm room for 5 months before reclaiming it. I rapped in the band. I met Sean, the drunk-poety type poet, at the Franklin House, around the end of summer, and we been caught reading and writing together ever since. Months later and I live in that house, with most of the loves of my life, turned onto ideas and more importantly actions I used to only read about in Abbie Hoffman books as a teenager. We've enjoyed protests, trips, shows and even arrests together, all as some kids who just want their lives back from this casino*town/saint loser crap of a culture.
A soon-to-be published poet now, I play bass in a band called Holy!Holy!Holy! and we're going on 2 tours across the country in that church bus, our own end-time prophetic ministry. Carnivale, of sorts. I work 2 jobs to help support this habit of playing my favorite music with my favorite friends wherever we damn well please, which for those who know me, is enough to both drive me mad and put a smile on my face. I dropped out of school, officially, for the time being, time being the constant enemy of my dreams. I rarely make sense to most others, my actions a recurring hallucination to people who have seen me rapping naked at bars or stripping at local poetry slams. I love to dance, and this music is built for kids to lose their minds dancing to. Killing our pasts with every waking breath we take, but never forgetting those who have shown us what they've shown us. Our history says now! and there are no greater people I could dream of to share the roads with this spring and summer, including the people I have never met before with whom communities will be built, as we lose ourselves in days of war and nights of love. This would be a battle of good versus evil if I believed in dichotomy. so e-mail us, leave us comments on blogs or voicemails on telephones, talk conspiracy theories with me (I am open to all), come out to shows, download this revolution to ya ipods, but also become vagabonds lost in IS. come out and dance, not like monkeys for the corporatocracy, but like human beings, screaming at the top of lungs:
I AM ALIVE!.
holy! is the eternal isness,
jake (as fuck)