Congress Minus Trump Could Equal… Legislation?

•17 October 2017 • Leave a Comment

One solution to the “Trump problem” I’ve not heard almost nothing of would be decisively flipping the tables on him, effectively seizing back the reins of power in DC, making him largely a figurehead — legislative rule. Why hasn’t the idea of Sens. McConnell & Schumer, Reps. Ryan & Pelosi getting together & hashing out some form of compromise by which they could stitch together two-thirds majorities in both houses to override any Trump veto? It’s becoming ever clearer that Trump’s brand is almost as toxic as the water he’s content to leave Puerto Ricans to drink, i.e. there’s more to lose for Congressional Republicans in supporting Trump than to gain. From a purely cynical political stance, making Trump a party pariah may just be the only chance the GOP has to maintain congressional control.

Floating this as a possibility to minimize Trump’s dangerous impact on American policy, not to endorse it — I shudder at the prospect of a McConnell-Schumer-Ryan-Pelosi quadrumvirate, but it seems to be the least bad of present options.


Night, 04:34

•3 October 2017 • 1 Comment

The cat lies there,

Wrapped up like a seashell,

Served with scallions and fish sauce,

A dash of soy to perfection.
Focus closer; see it?

A fleeting gaze into that which we are,  

Dust so dense, diffuse in its scarcity —

Profound only in its absence;

Billions of years hurtling toward a world 

Wanting only a voice to name it home.

Channeling Lady Gaga

•2 October 2017 • Leave a Comment

“Just dance,” sang the queen (sorry Beyoncé) in — what seems like forever ago — 2008. “Just write” says the unsteady king (me) in 2017, crown wobbling beneath the weight of self-imposed expectations. The throne may not be iron, but respect it. 

The words rush as through a swollen Mississippi, but I lack the skill to gather them and mold something new and beautiful, beyond this jaded millennial semi-bliss haze. To make something of this tired clay, but never to know unless one tries. To be bold, to risk failure, utter and complete? Final? World with an end? 

I do not think I have the courage, the outrage, the pouring out of gall red and infinite, to tempt, to taunt, to bring down upon myself the wrath of countless gods. 

We are but lumps of mud, molded into Titans’ forms / by gods we never knew.

•6 September 2017 • Leave a Comment

All I ask from life, of which forty (to reach my biblically-allotted three score and ten), maybe fifty years are left to me, is to bear witness to the universe asking of it the many and more questions we pose. I’m content to be a doddering old man, anonymous and forgotten, if I can but get a further view into the cosmic ineffable. Ultimately, we are star dust and to star dust shall we return — I, for one, will be honored to burn until my death shakes the cosmos — and I’m pretty damn sanguine about that.

On Getting Old (1/whatever number of posts I can muster before biochemistry catches up with me; I’m going to need more duct tape and Gorilla Glue© even to make it to 35.

•24 August 2017 • Leave a Comment

Help? When I was in the Green Room in LA, having had hair & makeup done, while the other two were chatting amicably (something I’m much better at when it’s via text rather than face-to-face — I will deign to take responsibility for this one; I have tried any number of reactive therapies) helped, really, but I’m putting this on severe depression/anxiety disorder) with the various staff, in preparation for our upcoming bout on Jeopardy!, I sat in a corner, iPod (remember those?) in hand, listening to “I Don’t Wanna Hear It” on repeat. Minor Threat  was raw, kick-you-in the balls-while-wearing-steel-toed-boots kind of shit. Hardcore at its pinnacle. 

Now I’m sitting here, working on an article about Kafka, Hegel, Kundera & the concept of historical cycles w a sleeping cat about a meter away, with a Taylor Swift track (“Shake It Off”, which is annoyingly catchy) stuck in my head. 

You’re Not Alone

•23 August 2017 • Leave a Comment

To those of you with whom I’ve had conversations lately in which you’ve shared feelings of doubt, despair, fear and loneliness, it’s okay. You’re not alone. I know that feeling all too well. In the last five years, I’ve had to come out three times: as a suicide attempt survivor who suffers from severe depression/anxiety disorder, as a man with a longstanding eating order and the obvious one — as gay. But you know what? I’m still here because of friends like you; I can’t repay that debt, but I am always here for you. If you need someone to talk with or just to listen, I’m here for you as are many, many others. You are not alone.

Red Ink

•6 June 2017 • Leave a Comment

I wield two red pens: the Red Pen of Sorrow and the Red Pen of Grace. Neither red pen is infallible, though the second is also the Red Pen of Things Hoped For but Unseen. The first red pen makes my eyeliner run, but my mascara is waterproof. It can be called the Red Pen of Things Unseen Yet Hoped For. 

Both rise with the Full Moon.

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