I am trying to tell you something.

Watch out


Reason #1 for Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail

I close my laptop.
Turn off the television.
And check the time.
I will read for twenty minutes.
I don’t make it past the acknowledgements
I open my laptop.

Reason #4 for Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail

New York City
loses it’s luster
after a while.

After a while
it becomes
just another city.

Just another city
like the one
I was born.

I was born
in New Haven

is as good or bad
as any other place.

As any other place,
I had to see what else there was
and so I must go, once more.

The extreme simplification of generalizing the average white American or Make America great again for whom?


If you’re offended than chances are you didn’t get the point.  And that’s probably for good reason as this is an extreme simplification.  Because there are far too many generalizations that until directed at you – at home – don’t seem to matter.


If you think that America was ever great than chances are you were born white and lucky.

Let’s separate the two for convenance.

When I say white, I am referring to the lightness of your skin, rather the skin pigmentation, or further the amount of melanin produced to alter your skin tone darker.

Look it up on Wikipedia, that’s what I did.

And when I say lucky I am referring to the wealth of your parents, also white, who worked hard to raise you and supply you with the so-called, “life they never had.”

Now I understand that this is a huge generalization but for these purposes, I think it will do.

Keep in mind we are living in the era of Alternate Facts.

So for those who chant that epic cry to, “make America great again,” I must ask, when was America so great?

So let’s break this statement down.

To be great is to be markedly superior in character and quality.

This is just one of the many interpretations of the adjective, great, by the Merriam Webster dictionary.

I think we all know what “again” means, so let’s just continue.

The word again – interpreted – in this person’s opinion, is to strive for what we once were and or once had.

So to make America great again would be to return to the past?


And they’ll pitch you the idea that to make America great again is to bring back jobs to the United States.

But does it matter that these jobs will have a negative effect on other people’s lives?

Then they place a ban on those who practice the Muslim religion but for legal reasons don’t call it a Muslim ban but just, a ban.

Ask Rudy Giuliani about this one, he doesn’t even try to hide it.

And they pitch that it’s to “keep out” potential terrorist threats.

My question is, how do you rationalize accusing an entire religion of possibly being terrorist extremist bent on destroying the country when our country already has a terror threat living and breathing within itself already. (i.e. Dylan Roof and any other citizen like him)

For lack of a better analogy, it’s like having cancer and taking Tylenol to cure the disease.

It’s like being tested, diagnosed, and recommended immediate surgery, but taking NyQuil instead.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

Or am I talking to myself again?

Our wildest threats are not, as they’d want you to believe – overseas, brown, and hooded – but rather, white, psychotic-citizens, fueled by fear and hatred.

Because the common man is so common that trapped within his commonality, is the inability to love, accept, and learn to appreciate the “differences” of others, that make them(the differences) so individually important, so powerful, and so essential to a growing nation and the continuation of life itself.

It’s kind of like what separates us from animals.

Still, I get the impression that it must feel so good, so great, to be a safe, white, lucky American, that when faced with the possibility of having to deal with the hardships, injustices, and intolerance, that once was, and in some ways still is running rampant across this country, that others have faced because of their skin pigmentation, that you(the white lucky American) just can’t deal with the tables being turned, or rather slightly adjusted(the tables).

So what’s the point – would you allow yourself to grasp the irony?

It’s simple really.

Though chances are, you’re so bent out of shape by now, that you could care less.

And that’s the problem.






I’m still dealing with your ghost.

Please stop reading if you’ve heard this before.

It’s been 15 years since.

And I’m still holding onto a ghost.

15 god damn years.

And I’m still crying in a coffee shop.

I wasn’t even 15.

And you sure as hell weren’t a Boy Scout,

so who tied the noose?

I want to know what type of knot you used.

It’s been 15 years.

And I want answers.

Answers that I’ll never receive.

I want an apology.

You son-of-a-bitch.

How embarrassed you must have been.

I wasn’t even 15.

And they don’t even know the half of it.

And here I am again.

Wasting my energy on this endless sadness.

Because you couldn’t hack it.

Towards the end they say you were over medicated.

Well it’s been 15 years.

And it’s probably the reason I don’t even like to take aspirin.

It’s just that over 15 years it’s been hard to explain.

Like when you come right out and say it.

He.  Committed.  Suicide.

Kids used to awkwardly laugh at first and then realize I wasn’t lying.

And suddenly everyone’s sorry.

Suddenly I have to act sad.

Or act like it’s fine.

Nobody wants to see you break down in front of them.

Nobody wants to know your whole life story.

15 god damn years and I’m blubbering like a baby.

Screaming at the top of my lungs – drunk.

So if you’ve heard this before please stop reading.

Because I’m sure I’ve said it.

I’m as sure as I was 15 years ago.


Because you don’t get custody after biting someone on the face.

And I don’t get answers.

I don’t get an apology.

Even after 15 years.

I’m still dealing with your ghost.