Kid Culture

Children have their own culture that, while it can be influenced by adults, runs in parallel to their authority, and is handed down verbally from who knows when.  What dirty rhymes and gross pranks were played at your school?  Thought I’d share one with you from my own childhood in Seattle in the 1980s.  Content warning for misogyny and dookie humor.

Ain’t yo mama pretty?
She got meatballs for her titty
She got scrambled eggs
Between her legs

I took her to a party
She turned around and farted
I asked her why she did it
She turned around and shitted

Ah, those halcyon days.  By all means, in honor of the tribe you left behind upon reaching maturity, dookie up my comments below.
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Centennial Hills 20

Now that I’m out of material, these updates will slow considerably, but have the newest chonk now, if you please.

Content Warnings:  Vomiting Mention, Heartbreak, Inequitable Class System, Slavery, Dehumanization, Violations of Personal Space, Sci-fi Racism, Violence, Threats of Violence, Murder, Graphic Gore, Drug Abuse, Self-harm, Delusional Fandom Behavior, Abusive Relationships, Weapons.

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This Job I Have

I’ve been workin’ for The Man in social services, in a call center type environment.  That means I’m dealing with people navigating arcane bureaucracies to get the things they require, often in cases of greater need – people with disabilities or generational poverty, senior citizens, etc.  This job is the most intellectually and emotionally demanding work I’ve ever done.  At five years in, I’m better than average at it, but it’s depressing and stressing and just never ends.  Still, one abides.

But my pay rate has stalled.  The first raises you get are substantial, but when the job “maxes out,” the raises are only half that rate.  There are cost of living adjustments, but like the COLA for Social Security, I think it’s tied to the Consumer Price Index, which only includes the cost of groceries – not the biggest cost of living we’ve all been fucked by, the cost of shelter.  Utilities are going up too.

Getting a mortgage might turn out to have been a good idea, but I need to either refinance to a much lower payment, or start making big bucks so I can have a prayer of paying this shit down, and it ain’t looking too good right now.  I thought I’d catch a break on the endless increases in rent by getting a mortgage instead.  But what happened immediately?  The valuation of our property increased enough that the tax hike was almost as bad as the rent increases we’d been trying to dodge.  The other main income in my household is a senior citizen who ran out of steam for her original job and can’t make that kind of money anymore.  If I don’t increase my income dramatically, we’re one bad turn of events from hitting the skids.

But then, isn’t that everybody these days?  I don’t know.  Maybe just everybody I or my boyfriend are related to.

So there are paths to higher pay.  I have reasons why promotion at my current employer is undesirable, but to say more risks saying too much about where I work.  Let’s say those jobs are increasing your demonic rank, but you get even more exposure to what’s bad about Hell.  Best avoided.  I could try to slide to a different employer, but it’s hard to make the time to do that homework, and can I get as much telework as I have now, or will I have to throw away twenty uncompensated hours of my life per week on bus rides?  Also, will the most readily available jobs in my sector contribute in some measure to imperialism and genocide?  Insert ‘it’s more likely than you think’ meme here.

God I keep being tempted to say things that are overly revelatory about where I work.  Somebody stop me.  Anyway, I just gotta sell the screenplay for Gun Lemurs and make a bank fulla money.  Until that day…  Like I said, I’m avoiding doomposts at the moment.  I’m gonna win like Wario.  Just gotta keep making wild-ass leaps of faith, making hairpin turns, pushing harder and closer to the flames than I ever did in my youth.  I’ve always been lucky before, no reason that luck should run out now, right?  I rule.

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Centennial Hills 19

Got nothing to say today.  I need to sleep like a sunuvabitch.  Zzzzzz.

Content Warnings:  Vomiting, Environmental Despair, Heartbreak, Inequitable Class System, Misogyny, Sci-fi Racism, Sex Work, Violence, Threat of Violence, Surveillance, Abduction, Drug Abuse, Self-harm, Slavery, Delusional Fandom Behavior, Abusive Relationship, Weapons, and Gun Threats.

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One Breath

I think I mentioned it in my comments before, got a thing on my mind sometimes about art.  Mostly literary art, but could apply elsewhere as well.  A scene or a verse or a passage within a larger work should be internally consistent and smooth as if it was exhaled in a single breath.  Franz Kafka, Edgar Allan Poe, Angela Carter, Joyce Carol Oates, all very different but unified by this one thing, at their best.  There are a lot of other qualities good writing can possess; this isn’t everything.  But it’s something I’d like to make sure I’m achieving, whenever I commit to saying this is it, this is the final draft.

I aspire to that, but do I have the willpower?  Centennial Hills is an overly fancy first draft, the words carefully considered one time, perhaps edited in my head a little too much before they hit the page.  This gives me license to say fuck it, good enough for a blog post, good enough for posterity.

The egregious lack of editing in modern publishing also excuses me.  What’s worse, my shit, or the thousandth romantasy about a modern gal who finds out a couple of beevy monsters wanna bone down with her because she’s the most specialest?

I dunno.  I just think, when I have the opportunity to make art happen, maybe I should be making it to the highest possible standard.  But it seems like a lot of effort, making your art look effortlessly perfect.  Maybe later…

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Centennial Hills 18

Even without Las Vegas, we can have an edgy and miserable time.  Enjoy!

Content Warnings:  Mortal Despair, Heartbreak, Inequitable Class System, Pugilism, Misogyny, Sci-fi Racism, Sex Work Mention, Death Mention, Surveillance, Abduction, Cringe Culture, Drug Abuse, Self-harm, Slavery, and Barney the Purple Dinosaur.

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Back to tha Back to tha Old School

Remember this post about Seward Park by Seattle local ’80s rap weirdo Maharaji?  My loving man did me a favor and transcribed the lyrics, so you can get a bit of the flavor even if you can’t figure out how to listen to the song on interwebs.  You won’t find this on genius dot com.

SEWARD PARK

by Maharaji

If you’re searching for a way to reach your peak
Come to Seward park with the pretty little freaks
Lay in the grass, let the sun hit your face
Drink cherry coolers while you listen to my bass

Here’s your chance to make your dream come true
Just hop in your ride when the sky’s plain blue
Roll down your window, let the freaks hear my song
Cuz my voice is really kinky and my beats so strong
I’m Maharaji baby, you know who I am
Come give in to the Seward Park jam
I see you on the sidewalk with your long silky hair
Eyes of light green with your skin complexion fair
Bermuda shorts and those tight, tight jeans
All the guys will name you
the Seward Park queen
Hot hot fun
In Seward Park
Oh girl
You know I want to enter your world

(groaning and heavy breathing)

Oh girl

Seward Park
Freak

You look so good, I can taste you from here
But that’s not the point, let me make myself clear
Oh baby, don’t you know I’m like a lifesaver
Just whisper in my ear if you want a new flavor
Physical changes
Naturally delicious
When you lick your lips, I get real suspicious
Mixed emotion, a climax stimulation
Wonderful memories of fantastic penetration
This brief encounter
The proper vitamin
I can ensure you baby that you’ll be back again
So come on and get it, and don’t waste your time
Cuz a freak like Maharaji you will never find

Seward Park
Gets crazy after dark
Sure enough baby
The dogs will start to bark

(dog fx and car horns)

You’re delicious dirty girl
with all your freaky friends
I see your golden face on the hot weekends
Walking your dogs
Or playing your box
Beads in your hair with your polka-dotted socks
I like to watch you move
To my northwest hot funk energized groove
Make no mistake by staying at home
Come dial a freak on the telephone
So how would you like it if I went and hopped a ferry
I’ll leave my phone number
you can even call me Terry
I think of Seward park on a hot summer day
Come take a deep breath the Cosmic Legion way

(grunting and moaning and dogs fx)

Deep breathing baby

Effective is compassion with universal powers
the feelings flowing through your body each and every hour
Your destiny’s fulfilled so lay on your back
I can help you out with a freak attack
My multi-track funky flex was all you freaks’ choice
It’s absolutely free
You know you feel moist
So let me know
Oh
What’s on your mind
Let me know your true feelings all of the time
Come my desert flower, come plant your seed
So I can eat the fruit coming from your tree
Relax

Ooh
Ooh-ooh

Intellectual essence, and all your finesse
You’re the finest freak in the great northwest
With your hot luscious tongue and your emotion lotion
Your strawberry lips, that’s your freak secret potion
With video cassettes of I Dream of Jeannie
You can sit in my spa with your two-piece bikini
Uhh

My lady Monica kicks
At Seward Park
Sir Mix-a-lot kicks
At Seward Park
Kashay kicks
At Seward Park
Jazzy D kicks
At Seward Park
The Wicked Angel kicks
At Seward Park
DJ Nasty Nes kicks
At Seward Park
Your dog wets a tree
At Seward Park
Your mama barbecues
At Seward Park
Spicy Shannon kicks
At Seward Park
Phantom of the Scratch kicks
At Seward Park
The Desert Sheik kicks
At Seward Park
Lawanda kicks
At Seward Park
I throw my Frisbee
At Seward Park
I steal your girlfriend
At Seward Park
I make love to you
At Seward Park
The Cadillacs ride
At Seward Park
The low riders roll
At Seward Park
Ain’t no dust
At Seward Park
The Central District kicks
At Seward Park
The south end kicks
At Seward Park
Everybody kicks
At Seward Park park park park park

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