About A Girl

Hair wavy and damp, brushed back away from her face. Her nose is running-decorated in glitter. Now her nose, finger and hair glimmers with colors of blue. “I’m fucked up” she says as her body waves and her thoughts come out aloud disconnected. She drops her phone for the second time beside her foot. She’s searching for something, perhaps a tissue, her lighter, no actually her phone. Again, for the third time she has forgotten something again. She looks down and around; raises her head. A smile lights up across her face-on to find something to drink, preferably water. In the kitchen now to stare at the stove then the fridge. Though she grabs a beer too-a decision to make of which to have first as she quenches both her habit and her thirst. 

Lisa looks into her in blank observation. For a moment she studies the girl before her in her body movements mocking the conflicting options going over in her mind. The move for the night was to make plans for a chill night, a smoke session. But now the dealer is too incompetent as the girl explains. She tells Lisa that he deserves his shitty job at Nachos and Bar. Lisa chuckles slightly to hear the girl’s frustration. In Lisa’s mind now going over what is actually unfortunate. 

An apology to Lisa is begged as the night extends to another hour without progress. “It’s alight, drink something.” Lisa beckons her to come closer. As she does, for a longing hug and a light kiss upon he lips. “It’s okay, do you need to sit?” Lisa pauses as she rubs the girl’s back. “You seem dizz.” 

“Oh no I’m fine, thank you.” The girl smiles again. 

Turning away from the embrace, the girl places her elbows onto the island countertop. Her head rest between her palms. “I’m sorry, just I took too many drugs and then I drank alcohol… and I don’t think that was a great idea now that I’m so fucked. I was looking for a good high and now I’m just.. I feel bad.” She raises her head from her palms to sniff, to wipe her nose again. “Do you mind?” Lisa tells her “no, you’re alright with me.” 

The girl lays her head on Lisa’s shoulder; brushing back her damp hair now. She kisses her on top her head. “You’re alright with me.”

“Thank you”, the girl whispers. She breaks away from the embrace to search her dazzled, glittered pocket purse. A pack of Marblos in hand now as she searches the living room for her lighter. “I need to smoke. Do you want to come outside?” 

“Sure.”

Lisa makes a motion with her feet. Bridget sniffs her shoes, paws at her shoelaces. Only startled for a moment, Lisa shakes her shoe -turns to make her way to the balcony. The girl ahead of her, and now the dog picks up into a pace to follow outdoors. 

The darkness is approaching midnight. 

What source of light allowed is the latter above their heads, a low tone of yellow. A wind chime matching the movement of a warm breeze. The two sit, offering one another a story about their day. As one tells the other, one may have a sense that both here are not altogether right mentally. Something in their respective past has affected them emotionally. And what they do to themselves physically expresses all that is wrong with someone else now a distant, painful memory.

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Happy Anniversary 

A relief to find the love of your life in bliss. Shared memories saved as pictures on a popular website. From what one can tell she is polite and happy. A comment or two appears below-she will thank you for the kind thoughts and words. The compliment given was a witness to true love and happiness. From what one can see is a slight embrace from the side, though definitely close and clinging to the other. Each are smiling enjoying their time out doors. They seem to enjoy one another’s company. Perhaps a day out to explore a park or some venue. Then later to have lunch or dinner depending on the time of day. The two are definitely enjoying one another’s company and will  intend to do so again as they had done so before. A way to add to the collection of how blissfulness is suppose to appear. 

Her heart skips a bit as she studies over their faces. Not so much the other woman, but of her love she wishes she could be there to replace. She imagines over again now that this must be happiness. I’ve had it confirmed; she’s experiencing what love means to her. 

Eyes crossed over now as the dampening of her eyes overflows. Her neck tingles, what an odd sensation and a place to feel loneliness. Her mind in constant repetition of her love, and of her happiness. Her face becomes hot and heavy, heart again slows down to a beat easily numbered. Not so bad now, this feeling she has felt numerous times for what has been…for what has been a year almost. Her brow is wrinkled as she stresses in her mind of the head throb pounding away. She tells herself this is pain. Actually, what happens in this moment is that her head  throbs as her mind overreacts to the slightest assumptions most likely true. She sheds a tear to allow for breathing. She begins to twitch to stop the words going over again-that her love is happy.

In the news is a hurricane too close for comfort. Will she come back again for those she care more about? Going over in the mind to accidentally find oneself in a time and place matched according to her love’s day-to-day activity or rush. In the news was a mass shooting affecting the lives of hundreds. Their lives taken by surprise now missed and altered forever. She thinks to herself-if it were her love…

A natural thought not one forced. She reflects again why this one and only this one love has made such a lasting impression on her mind. A regrettable mistake her love was, yet she cannot help to wonder if her love thinks of her too. If so it is a thought of a regrettable mistake best avoided if she remains true to her newfound happiness. Most likely this assumption is truth in a way. As for certain her love is flawed in being honest about emotional giving. One can’t help to think that she is so important in this universe that her love would want her again. 

A single picture can tell others about the event that has taken place. We can assume happiness as we are always smiling, just as we may assume neglect and remorse to those old photos tan and faded. In your own pictures, of your love and yourself, you think of what appeared to be…happiness. And when asked and complimented your love confirmed it was happiness. 

To whatever that had transpired to question that confirmation is now irrelevant. A time to move forward she tells herself, but to whom in paticular? You’re definitely an attraction, something wanted and desired though not for a long time. You’ve remained at settlement, a compromise then as you long for human touch, though from others that simply want a good time. In the moment you think this is for now, as you pursue what is for the future and ever lasting. You open your mind for love as your love asked you to do instead. You’ll find another. She said, I already did, but you didn’t want me. 

Free Time

I’ve thought of a few short stories to write over the course of days. The subjects are varied, though all relating to some abstact thought. The summary of them all is that my mind is longing for an ever presence that will transcend time. At this moment I think of how to adequately express what I am writing first in my journal. What I am to present here for mild interest. What I wish to make known to the world in writing will not be justified here. Instead what I wish to relate requires hours of patience and understanding.  

Ditto on love said that we seek immortality. Meaning once we have come to understand that childhood last briefly, we see the time to do something last a short life. The world is full of wonder and inspiration yet so little time to experience it all. And so we find ways to matter to someone, to a whole of society. I think that is what I seek too… to make my presence known and to make an impact of some kind. 


As of now I’m looking over my left shoulder. A spontaneous decision some days ago for a tattoo. It’s a moon, closer to the reality we may view at night. Underneath are Greek letters saying “you’re missing without me”. What it means is something I wish to witness myself. Time to move forward, to change. As I-as a person without a physical sense-to witness something remarkable while timeless. I wish to witness the impossible with no one else to tell. Perhaps a summation of what I’m thinking, what all I wish to write is a sense of longing. 

Diotima

“Love is a divinely implanted impulse that subconsciously impels people to pursue immortality through having children, creating  enduring works of art, and making lasting contributions to society”

Ladder of Love, The Philosophy Book 

I’m writing a book about the purpose of our existence. This includes works in religion, religious thought and other religious philosophy that served as a precursor to human preoccupation of self.  In the mean time of reading and writing  I’ll come across a thought that should be shared. In this instance, the notion of immortality. Or actually how we as human beings place a greater importance onto and about our existence. One greater example is that of love. 

Love as an emotion, a desire that we may either feel or create first for ourself. Self-centered creaures that assume the world was meant for the individual. So we make a mark, an impression onto someone or something. In this age of social media, instant gratification and selfies I find that we take pictures of ourself out of self love and appreciation. Another reason to make a mark that ‘I, too, exist’ and feel important. Another way to make an impression that will last until the individual deletes or the media site has declined in popularity. 

Generations older are critics of this form of self love. Though this is no different than the story of Achilles and others like him taught that death is glorious when in battle. Especially one who has survived many battles and have the scars to prove-ancient Greek gratification. Older generations have had their means of doing so as well-something so minor as appearing before a crowded scene well dressed and rehearsed. 

Then we have media to showcase an act of kindness. Something that U.S. citizens as a whole are skeptical of the act of kindness. Whoever reveals with camera on ‘record’ of a life saved is instantly praised, hearted and liked. Liked and loved by the thousands actually-the person has gone viral. How rare it is to find someone that will forget their time? Sometimes forget their self even to rescue, to hug, to provide free services and access and to build a connection. 

There are critics to for all. ‘Why did a camera have to place a major role in this person helping another person?’ Then as a rebuttal ‘we need to be able to share acts of kindness to remind ourselves of humanity’ is essentially the back and forth summary of hundreds to thousands of comments on one news article. What happened? A depressed teenager found herself in a hair salon with her hair left unkempt. The hairdresser then decides to give her a makeover with a picture to share on social media. There is a comment further down asking, though typed as a statement, ‘why is this newsworthy?’ We are here to make a lasting, important impression that people matter and that we notice that someone is need of that reminder.

Even when in decline to love oneself, or depression, we find that we still place a greater importance of ourself. Whenever in this state one may say that they do not matter to the world, to society, immediate associates and family members. In this assumption still lies the need to feel important, a reminder in someone’s mind. In love lost one may assume a former partner to still love and require a reminder of that suppressed feeling. In some way the individual will make themselves important or wanting to make a lasting impression. 

And I think it is important enough to mention that this quote was told to have been stated by a woman. A woman whose existence is in question, though a name is given. Existing in a period of time in a Greek society that regarded women as inferior silent creatures, to read a female’s voice on a thought not written by her own hand. Instead restated by a man that claimed of her existence, a woman that gave him a lasting impression on the teachings of love. 

Before You Waste Her Time

I’m training a new team member twice my age. She tells me of heart ache and troubles everyone seem to suffer through lately. She’s part of the homeless that swear and beg for hours to pay for the extended stay hotels in Gwinnett County. 

In telling me about her situation; a corporate worker lost her job and home in a financial bind. Her eldest daughter is miles away in another state, desperate and heart broken. The daughter left to be with a man in age only, to live and to grow together. But as all relationships, really, they end. Her daughter is now depressed, in distress attempting suicide almost. I told the lady that’s my situation too. 

I didn’t travel miles to be with her, just decided to live with her in the current city.  I was warned and cautioned but it was love I told myself. I told her since you know me since I relayed all that I am on a dating site. The only means I may find someone. I took to a dating site for a serious relationship. Not a fairy tale forever, but something that will grow and last as we mature and understand the other. Apparently, despite her education being equal to my own, failed at reading and listening comprehension. A roller coaster of emotions about situations that I had told her that I been through before, yet nothing came of it. Reassured after a powwow and again…that everything is fine and that she wished to marry me. I continued with high hopes. It’s like what music tells me that relationships are a struggle, but so long as we struggle together for positive it’ll be well worth the time. No, my time, our time wasted. 

Dumped after my college graduation, dumped after resigning an agreement to live together in financial bondage. I lost it. I lost my temper, emotions overwhelmed me. As I told her that will happen-depressing episode. Her response was not that of love, it was the best way to contact the police officers. Yelling and tearing down my belongings so I could move out easier, though I did so in a fit of rage and I understand her confusion then, is grounds for my arrest and death. Again, a week after my graduation. 

I lost it. I lost myself in emotions. A heart and stress that shows on my face. My color has changed, become darkened. How long has it been since then? Nine months has passed and she is in her eighth month ‘anniversary’ with another woman. I’m tormented and devastated, constantly reminded of her. Always reminded of bullshit as I try again to keep my mind off of it. She wasted my time. Filled me up with hopes, said we could do it again some point. No I wasn’t listening to that part. I listened when she rolled her eyes as I tried to explain, calmly that I could not afford to live with her and her friend, now that there wasn’t a love bondage to ensure we would take care of each other. 

Depression has overcome me. I’m no longer living in anxiety of her presence since she has moved to live with her girlfriend, yet still reminded of a few family members I have met. Trying my best to avoid their presence and scene. Heart break turned into pessimism, almost given up. Trying my best to have goals in mind to keep me going. Homelessness is temporary, work menial task jobs for now to save for your MA degree and home. Continue to find a purpose, by weight training and writing. Even still there in my gym or here on this site I cannot avoid the overwhelming emotion of a heart break. Again I see it in my face, see it as I see my body as plump though I’m skinny. Stopping tears during random moments of songs reminiscing what I thought I had. 

As what most people, as it seems, think that they have is something forever. Combining finances and planning for the future as if it is marriage already. Why? We are taught to never be alone, yet I have witnessed a marriage where being alone is more preferreable than to fall into expectations. Expecting tradition, order in a world full of possibilities and options. Though if that had happened I would not have been born… I sit and think in the pointless mater of forming relationships. You’re infatuated, this person is your everything. Your milk to your chocolate, in my case I like it. It feels good but people cannot stomach bad moments. It just wasn’t going to work, as I was told. What the hell does that mean? Oh it means that love doesn’t exist. Every situation is treated like a stepping stone to something out there ‘better’ without conflict. I typed a post about this, while in a sad state, people want someone to confirm their bias. As she told me, her girlfriend-that’s ignorant of all details previous of her-told her that her causes and concerns were correct. 

What was there to argue about? Abuse. I was used and abused and did not know how to cope and to relate this to my now ex. She interpreted this as untrustworthiness, really cheating. Young as I am forming relationships I never had before. I could not shake the feeling that I had been forced into something previous of my ex. I’ll handle it alone as I tell myself, address the one responsible alone. I suppose this is the incorrect way to handle such a situation as it means one is cheating. Unable to comfort someone in need is her flaw. I suppose she’s right, it just was not going to work. 

Here I am 9 months later sniffling, going over my mind a hundred times more before I rest my eyes in my car. My temporary home. I think again in obsession as I wash dishes at one job; travel. My first job people are looking for a joke and a smile per usual from me. I tell them I’m going through some life troubles but I’m alright. It’s time to work, customers do not want to hear your story in addition so remained focused. 

I did contact her for an apology. Worst decision to make as she affirms she had done nothing wrong per usual. As I knew she would say stubbornly that she was in a dark place, depressed. Well better now it seems with someone new. She tells me this isn’t about ‘race’, since she’s not racist. I never mentioned color difference to her. 

Whatever, whatever a broken record of her words and her apathy and rude, immature behavior towards me plays over again. My reaction reminded to me again. Again, and again. I know why someone may commit suicide. 

I know what the love songs are talking about. It hurts. Wait, every reaction similar in my experience hurts. I understand the hurt as I listen to others or about others hurting. The more aged adults singing about how young a heart may become and it’ll pass. However they too at the age 45 and over dealing with heart breaks and longings, making it seem as if there is an age restriction to this feeling. It’s not immature, it hurts. 

And I listen to others and see why they are hurting. They, like myself, take matters of the heart seriously. Cannot stomach another commitment witnessing the same or similar patterns of behavior. With the common expectation of bitterness. It’s the person, the individual they say. Well I’m referring to her and other people in my past, hence why I made a dating profile address this exact point. In my ignorant assumption thinking she had read the terms and conditions to being with me. 

I digress, not actually, but for now I’m tired. It shows physically as my feet swell. In need of two jobs to afford a place and my education in addition. Sore and exhausted thinking work and working will keep me busy from the obsssesive troubles on my mind. I’m open an honesty about my struggles so I’m not stifling through tears trying to come up with a lie about my situation. Honestly I’m stressed and in need of sleep. 

As a child I slept away my loneliness-inability to connect with others, self hatred of my actual plump body, etc. So much sleeping to do as an activity,  I became pale and soft. My mom told me she thought she was doing us a favor by leaving us alone in our bedrooms.  No I tell her I anticipated bed after school so I may continue the story dream and to cry myself to sleep. 10, 12, 23 years old my more bullish family members tell me that I just cannot cope with life.
A funny world that we live in. It’s not funny. The lady’s daughter is being institutionalize, miles away from home, because of someone else. Someone else being inconsiderate means the person damaged is need of medication. If we are a danger to ourselves then we need to be institutionalized. I knew my ex was depressed and I tried my best to relate to her by sharing my own experience. Perhaps if I remained patient and supportive she would see that I love her dearly. No, this acknowledgement required love on her part as well. As I told her I’m sure she feels more appreciated now with someone new. It killed me inside when she said yes. It’s not you, it’s just me. It’s just me. My heart ripping to shreds. How do I cope? 

I try my best to keep my goals in mind. Again, homelessness is temporary, fast food worker as a college graduate is only temporary until I find one less judgemetal and rude employer to give me a chance…and so on. I look forward to purchasing books. I look forward to share my story dream, from my childhood, titled as ‘Rough Draft’. I find something else to do to snap out for only a minute or so until my mind falls back to its broken record.

I gave advice to my ex-essentially stating, please love the woman you’re with now. Nothing worse than time wasted and memories wasted and corrupted. Why? For the simple fact of never being alone. 

I’m sighing, not wanting to culture my space here too, yet feel more relieved as I share.

Rough Draft: Random Happenings

Previous Rough Draft: When the Girl Is Too Nice

Twin

Television volume set to about 50. The scene displayed is one of ‘making a point about society and its common parallel to something mundane or important that the greater public typically disinterested will not care for to understand exactly’. As this all makes for good writing and television, Twin is lost in a day dream. Where her mind goes is echoed through the voices and exclamations heard. She appears to watch, but her vision crossed as she drifts into a trance-like state. In her own mind she goes where enemies are marked with a clear distinction of ‘difference’. They are targets of the code enforcers. Where she places herself as the anonymous to take matters of societal devastation into her own hands.


Lisa S.
Walking away from building B12 with hands in pocket. A step onto the sidewalk, musing about past conversations and the next eat. There’s a good cheap deli place down the street, around the corner somewhere, or is it across the crosswalk and four doors down? Lisa stops mid-walk to ask for directions. Two pointing up and away, exclaiming ‘yea’ yea and thanks to hurry up and away again. On her away with a step.

A phone call, it’s mom. Hello.

“I’m calling to ask if you could pick up my prescription before you head back home.”

Yea Sure.

“Are you doing okay, do you need anything?”

Uh no I’m good, just our for some food, out walking around before I head home.

“Oh honey I made something…If you want some I’ll leave a plate in the fridge for you.” The walk sign indicates ‘go’. Lisa scuttles across the crosswalk-attempting to end this conversation short. Okay bye, love you. Shoving the phone into her pocket again-she makes her way for some gyros and seasoned fries with water. She’s on a new cut diet now to help with her…a bad habit. The group say to have a possession of an addiction will likely cause one to revert back whenever there is a wanted ‘need’. Still she’s less inclined to drink water with so much as a hint of flavor. Inside now, orders what she had in mind- sits and waits.

A phone call. Hello, oh hey, how are you? I’m going to eat real quick then I’ll call you back, alright? Alright, k bye. Order 67 is ready for Lisa. Grabs her order, takes a slight step back for a stack of napkins, sit down for a quiet chew. On her mind are the pages written on the dinning table. No time to think of something sad, she shakes her head then-continues to eat. Yazir was on the phone earlier asking for a replacement for the night. Not tonight, she needs time alone with ‘twin’ to work. Little girl so lost. A wonder of what all runs through her mind throughout the day. Lisa has not been able to establish a form of thought, an expression of love to and from her at all. Little girl mute and reserved. The effects of neglect and abuse so strong. She understands as she remembers Ramon and what he had done. Memories repressed, still, and sickening. She shakes her head one last time to negate the thoughts heavy on her mind. There’s a hair in my sandwich.

Not worth the trouble to raise the issue. Standing up from the booth to trash the rest, she walks out onto the streets again. Oh yea, mom’s prescription. Lisa makes her way to Ripe Prescription further down. Another location seeming to close permanently by tomorrow.

A quick call back to Yazir to give a summary of an excuse thought up before. She’ll honor a change later in the week. A slow walk to the bus stop, destination to her next stop to walk home.



 

Rough Draft: When the Girl Is Too Nice

Previous Rough Draft: When You’re Older
Lisa S.

I told Elia that I’m tired of her shenanigans.

Lisa puffs on gas with her bro ‘J’. His name is Joseph and he’s a gas supplier, and everything else ‘feeling good’. Despite his dealings he’s an overall good guy, really. One that listens to his buyers as they share a bud, or another bad habit. A good guy always around with an ear for listening and time to pass.

“Shenanigans?” J questioned with a raised eyebrow and a smile.

Yea I told her that the love shit is for the birds. And she’s wasting my time, but I allow it since she’s beautiful to me. It’s time to move on, you know to swim with the fishes.

J laughs with her descriptions. Never the type of person is she to describe something verbatim, no that would be boring. Lisa is a favored customer, always entitled to some good hospitality because she humors him a bit.

“So we’re going to mention the whole animal kingdom about love then?” “Alright.” J passes the roach over to Lisa after inhaling. Exhale to allow smoke to cloud the space in front of them. “But for real I’m tired of her shit too bro.” J removes his hat to wipe his brow. “Always fucking with the emotions. I wouldn’t tolerate that with my girl.”

Lisa interrupts with a snide remark. If you had a girl.

J glances at Lisa with a face expression appearing serious but the look so controlled to indicate a habit of joking makes for good conversation too. “I can get a girl and I got a girl, just that she’s on vacation right now.”

To where?

“She’s just taking a break until I find her and call her up again.” J said while stammering, beckoning for his turn again.

You’re lame dude. Anyway, I told her that I can’t have just her anymore. Really, the girl from my childhood, cute as can be, and fine as ever now, still plays me. Then I had to step back and reflect for a minute. Like I’m good, well I’m of average looks…

“Right, right”

So I should be able to pick and choose which best fish to eat for a night or two, right?

“Right man, and really if you were into guys I might say what’s up to you too.” J shrugs while opening up a bag of sunflower shell-less seeds. He pours a handful, throwback into his mouth. Looking back at Lisa again, head slanted, chewing carelessly.

Lisa lightly pushes him off of his chair. A dramatic exchange of looks and laughter as he scrambles to find his seating again.

Women are just complicated, really she’s complicated. I told her too that she can’t just want me for one night. As if I am a person without emotions or a doll that’s like a blank slate.

“Oh like that doll in Black Reflection, to be what that lady had in a fiancé-a broken record of the past.”

I love that show.


When You’re Younger

Have you ever met innocence? This is a girl most likely young at heart, mind and body. She’s eager to play, to find adventure with another, yet reserved.

On a play ground standing by the swing set, she looks over to see children at play. Playing with leaves, climbing on the monkey bars, even the trees until Ms. Teacher comes over to bring him down. Little girl standing alone. She then stoops down to take a look at the ants. All the while disturbing their paths to a large kill…

Another little girl appears before her to witness the natural scene. “What are you doing?” asked the blonde one. I’m looking at ants, see. The blonde one stoops down to look down with the dark haired one. Picking up a leaf, a rock to pick up a cluster of ants feeding on a carcass.

A few boys are on the open field, rumbling and tumbling over the game of hand egg. Sweaty, nearly tired, pushing and tugging at the other for an imaginary goal not quite specifically defined. Two seeming to talk and shout at once. Three collapse onto one; screams and shouts in victory. They retire their play. Each encouraging with every other step to walk back to the main play ground.

The dark haired one looks up at the blonde one. The blonde one just as intrigued in the bugs and flowers, everything else not seeming to matter. A sense of fluttering and lightness of air around. A nice girl she may think. The blonde one catches her eye and smiles. This is nice she thinks.

The boys have made it to the main play ground. One on the far right points, utters “Look!” for the others to see. It is a time for teasing. In their view are two girls seeming too close for attention. Not just the two girls, together, but the weird one with dark hair. Whose ‘parents’ are not real as their mothers tell them. An abomination it is for two women to raise a girl that wants to be a boy, it seems. One boy carrying the leather egg decides to throw it at the dark haired one. A graze to the head, the dark haired one stands up in frustration.

Back and forth teasing, while this one boy, then another joins in to call her a ‘lesbian’. Frustrated as she is, the dark haired one seems useless in defense of taunting brats. The blonde witnesses all shy in her demeanor. Though a struck of courage befalls, she tells the boys to “shut up”. They all retort the same back. She then throws rocks and whatever else she may find at her feet. The dark haired one falling into tears, wipes away to join hands and to throw together. The boys have scattered.

Turn towards one another for a smile, hands still joined together.

Censorship of ‘Freedom of Speech’

In Summary

In light of recent events, the question of  free speech in public spaces that are not tolerated by the greater public-speech indicating intolerance of certain groups of people- is in question for review. Already the ACLU has considered to change its policies regarding protecting the rights of those rallying, protesting, or marching with the active presences of firearm weapons. There are those within the greater public asking whether hate speech should be given a platform. Again, already there are companies censoring known hate groups and their various media sources. However, there are concerns about what groups will be censored and why. As the civil rights groups and companies are taking action to ban the platforms of documented white supremacist and nationalist, are they to censor just those well known hate groups or all others as well? The concerns of the public include the presence of Black Lives Matter movement participants and supporters, as well as Antifa gaining traction in the media as of lately. The association and concern being that black supremacist and the militant nature of the latter group are cause for censorship and public condemning as well. There is even a petition going to consider Antifa a terrorist organization. In light of this President Donald Trump has condemned both sides as racist and as thugs, though in only naming the white supremacist and nationalist groups. He labeled the non-white racists and thugs as ‘other hate groups’.

Here the questions are begged: Is hate speech free speech, or should it be considered for equal protection under the U.S. Constitutional law? Then what about the ‘other hate groups’ not traditionally known or condemned as regularly alongside white hate groups. Should they be censored as well?


In Regards to the Free Speech Clause

As it has been interpreted and determined, free speech is protected speech regardless if the speech is accepted by the public-minor or by the majority. Free speech is a protected right, so long as violence is not incited. This has already been decided by key court cases as follows:

Brandenburg v. Ohio, 395 U.S. 444. A KKK clansman during a public rally in Ohio made a speech to determine a goal or action toward groups of people not specified. The court ruled that it is protected free speech so long as a call for violence is not mentioned, though not prohibited if such speech is likely to incite violence.

Texas v. Johnson, 491 U.S. 397. Gregory Johnson protest against former President Reagan by desecrating the U.S. American flag. The court ruled that it is protected free speech to express opinions that are in disagreement with the public-minor or by the majority. And that the public taking offense is not a ground to either limit or to prohibit such speech.


Hate Groups

White Supremacist and nationalist organizations/groups are well known U.S. American hate groups. However, there exist ‘other hate groups’ not at all named specifically as they are unknown majorly. Here are some of the following white and black supremacist and nationalist groups that are considered hate groups:

According to the Southern Poverty Law Center there are nearly 1,000 active hate groups within the United States. The hate map provided in this link will reveal their location and, as well, providing the option to filter through all of those mentioned.

  • Alternative Right (Alt-Right)
  • KKK
  • Neo-Nazis
  • Nation of Islam
  • New Black Panther Party for Self Defense
  • War on The Horizon
  • Neo-Confederate

New Questions on Hatred

Hate speech will remain as protected speech, so long as violence is not cited or spoken by the representatives of the group. This right to speak is given to all, including those aforementioned ‘other’ hate groups listed. This means, so long as direct violence is not spoken or incited there exist no violation against U.S. Constitution and state laws.

However, the public is concerned about whether the presence of firearms, or other materials that may cause to incite violence- should be considered as protected speech still. Or as seen in Charlottesville, white supremacist and nationalist carrying firearms in their protest rally, while the Antifa groups carried bats and other materials in their counter-protest.

The debate among the public becomes petty as one differentiates the presences of a firearm being more so threatening than a person carrying a bat. The greater point being on either side of the debate is that violence was still incited with the mere presence of something militant, something hateful.ap_17222529170751

The question asked, then, should the mere presence that causes offense, which then may cause to incite violence should be permitted and protected by law?

As some others may state in the interpretation of Second Amendment rights- that the mere presence of a firearm (may include bats) is not a cause to incite violence. However, as the various laws may state about the presence of a firearm-that the person with the right to open carry, or to conceal and carry must be aware of the perception that they pose.

In addition, the public is concerned about corporate censorship in light of recent events. For instance, Facebook taking down some white nationalist pages. Or Pandora censoring hate music, usually white power music is cited and labeled as hate music. Or Google, taking down hate websites and blog sites. The reason supported by some of the public, being that it is not right to give such people a platform whereby they are to influence and to gather followers of the impressionable.

The question begs why are corporations, in this case tech industries in the business of online media, allowed to censor one form of content, yet not another similar? Then why are corporations allowed to censor at all?

As this article seems to suggest that censorship is relative to the political concerns of the state or individuals that filter and petition for the ban. As it seems that business as well have their own terms and conditions regarding freedom of expression, and so determines what is or is not allowed. Another example, Facebook censoring breast feeding mothers-classification of nudity.

Public or state petition to censor some content can be justified according to the respective state and federal laws. However, in light of recent events, as the petition in this case, to censor one form of known hatred over another is not just. A censorship of all hate group’s media sources should be the course of action. Though not to include the freedom of information to know of and to learn about them.

Girl Blue

Girl turned blue. What did she do?

No I will not attempt to type some elementary rhyme to mention not her hue, but her demeanor. The girl has turned blue.

In a constant to remain hopeful of something to intrigue her mind. What is it? A longing for that star since burnt out beyond her years of existence. She longs to find the other side of the universe. Or perhaps to find that time and space are part of a continuum without a clear beginning or ending. 

How do we imagine the beginning, before the universe as we are becoming to know? A white empty space. How do we imagine the end? A seemingly spontaneous unfortunate event were the moon collapsed and had fallen onto Earth. More accurately, when our star has past its time into death. May we be dragged into the pit. Frightful, panicky, perhaps already extinct. 

This girl is blue because she is unconcerned with what the mundane world, society and life may offer her. There isnt a thing at all imaginative about that relationship to materials; jobs to purchase materials; people around another to reveal, compare, and to relate about materials. 

What is imaginative, inspiring to write what no one would ever be able to read: her trip to visit the stars. A journal of isolationism, omnipotence written for her. A letter to herself in the past about her being so blue. 

She’s lost interest in this mundane world. At some point attempted to reconnect. Only to find the pointlessness of it all. She lost all hope of finding a common understanding in all aspects of appreciating another. Then a slight advice from a concerned spirit raised her interest to rekindle what was lost in the form of communication. What she had found instead was the same, the mundane. Lonely as ever walking through life gazing up and around. Those around staring at someone quite strange, or as some one to take precautionary measures of… she walked alone. 

No one else to understand who she is and why she may appear with her eyes dark and face wet. A polite smile to strangers that walk by in judgement of her. 

How else does she imagine isolation? Oh so much so wanting an unfortunate event to take place where she is then left stranded. On an island that she will not assume possession of, a claim of discovery, and never will deface the nature. What does she imagine? To sit alone on the beach and to stare out at blue. To walk slowly, to feel the sand beneath her toes. She oh so want to feel the deafening silence of loneliness. 

To sit and wait for the sky to turn orange, red, then to turn black. We’ve rotated away to face the moon. She looks up again and imagine the night sky grabbing hold of her body. Shred her being apart so that only in essence does her mind and vision exist. Traveling throughout space to experience the evolutionary happening of possible new beginnings of life-too curious about their purpose. 

To float, no, actually to fall into space forever a wanderer who has lost all sense of contentment. No longer a person, without a pronoun to describe the body’s physicality in a sense. This life falls forever into space for eternity. A blue phenomenon receptive of every other element that extends beyond the universe that was known in the previous history.  

The imagination is extended to spontaneous energy forming to conduct a strike on the blue phenomenon. Hurt in a way, how to rejuvenate in this vastness? As in the previous history, to find a source of energy, perhaps a comet. No cosmic rays existing as natural sources of energy. The blue phenomenon latching on again. The uncoordinated destination is Earth.

Dead stars become blurred, new formations become seemingly rapid. A color of blanketed clouds, or as it seems in a stand still. Swirls of light, color, pressure all around. The blue phenomenon overwhelmed. Snatched and sling forward, thrown from its attachment, declining back down to Earth at an ever increasing speed.

The girl wakes from her trance. Where is she? ‘She’ is I, and I am here walking past hotels. Sitting alone at a table abandoned somewhere that was once something. I am she dozing off thinking of an island with the sky reflecting the ocean blue. This is me, my upset, my longing and so forth. A life lived in the present has nothing to offer for a curious star gazer.

Rough Draft: When You’re Older

Previous Rough Draft: A Reflection

Lisa S.

I cannot look to you without reminding myself of all the pain and confusion I’ve caused you. I know that it isn’t your fault that you are here but…just, dammit I wish you wasn’t.

Lisa is stifled by tears, overwhelming her body and her will to write. Pen and paper on the dining table, now smudged with blued-black ink. Her sweater sleeved used as a napkin to wipe tears of fear and frustration. What does she write? Littering the pages with the fear of judgment that may implore her with questions of ‘why?’ She may regret this letter written she thinks. She sobs in tears. A letter to her secret child, wanting forgiveness. What is there to forgive? She had left her secret child confused and abandoned.

I tried my best but this thing, this relationship I cannot do. At least not now, I mean that I need time to learn how to love what I hated and blamed for so long.

Lisa takes a pause, a deep breath, while wiping away tears as she confesses:

See I wanted mom to take you away. If she could not do it, I wanted to take it away myself. I spent those months with you, inside of me, causing pain. The pain so unbearable sometimes that I even contemplated suicide. Not just to take my own life, but yours too-the subject of my pain and discomfort. I wanted you out, right then, taking pills if I could. Drinking what I was not allowed to drink. You have to understand the mental anguish you see, draining every bit of my… ‘soul’- I don’t know how else to word it. But now I look to you and see everything that is sweet and beautiful.

Trembling now as she writes the last words-to each written word turned into a sentence. With every letter revealing her cruelty, misplace blame and hatred on a child innocent. A child that did not ask to be, but has become something quite pleasing to the vision, quite pleasant to hear. How can she shatter the perfection? This now young woman, almost, face crumbling due to disappointment and a product of family shame. But her secret child needs to know the truth, to then understand that though it hurts, it is a story called life. Here in this story exist no person perfect; no feeling of emotion provided the correct course of action. These emotions written are matters of the heart and as it is sensitive, prone to cause more harm and trouble, it has every right to be read aloud.


Secret Child

JR pushes the clothes on the rack in excitement. Her first day as a senior, last road trip as a teenager. Where does she go? Pursuing her dreams in ‘Cali’, hoping to be something more like a national icon. She has the beauty and the smarts, well, we know that her beauty will take her far.

Turning to mom, asking for advice on the color, size and style of her crop top or off the shoulder look for the first day. Mom disapproving of new generation, but yields, pretty baby will get her way. Anything for her she supposes, not that she is treated any differently from the other girls. Dad walks up from behind to ask mom for the keys. He had left his wallet in the truck and thought to bring it round to the front. To sit and wait per usual, or whenever they were satisfied, purchased and ready. Mom hands the keys over, without turning, from her purse. Dad leans in for a nudge or something. Stepping away to the side-she’s too busy for an affectionate touch. She’s really trying to monitor and parent poor, almost raunchy styles.


Lisa S.

Time for a break.

Lisa scoots back her chair, stands up to enter the kitchen for a drink. Who cares if she counts one more day of sobriety. A moment of afterthought, she grabs the juice. Closes the fridge, walk and sip. Where to go back to? She enters the dining room again, yet walks past the paper and pen. She is need of rest for her mind. Into the kitchen again for a tall glass and some ice. A preference for chilled juices. Walks into the living area for the television.

A wonder the imagination can be-but nothing remotely interesting today or any other day. Plopped down on the sofa, relaxed, frustratingly pointing the remote every which way for recognition.

“Ugh, turn dammit” Sport clips, baby mama drama; bored to death wealthy people constantly in drama…Oh, scientific discoveries or the classics?

Too much time to think, too much on the mind. Lisa chose the classics.

Mr. Grant thinking he was fine as ever. Who is this? Another damsel or dame? Never mind, the characters were well dressed, naturally rehearsed. The music and time presenting something fine and delicate during all the shit storm going on then.

Her mind, where is her mind? Stop. Her mind clouded with thoughts of her, then thoughts of she. What and where? How come this and why not that? Her mind running through every obsessive thought of what cannot ever become altered through introduction, or intervention. Stop.

She calls twin from her room.

She’s probably hungry.


Twin

Not every story is about emotional devastation, yet these are the stories that make for good, or rather decent, writing. What more relatable than the topic of love, anger, or something so emotionally devastating to cause a person the imagination of wrenching out a bleeding heart forever pumping and gushing for familiar continuity.

Like a nasty break up:

Heart in anger- a contest to prove who was better in stating the same concern over again. Passionate anger now, to hear the other out. Love, the two will speak of it in different languages it seems. Love spinning around and round again in a room. Dizziness follows as the two contested are falling out of breath, out of words to express more of what will be left misunderstood. This exhaustion clinging for understanding-begging and pleading for affection, or really to be heard.

What have they produced instead? A tormented child caught between two extremities of the words love and hate. Twin, too abandoned and forgotten. Left isolated at so young of an age that she fell into silence. A deafening silence for whenever she enters the room. Slow, mechanical like walk to and from where she is called. To and from and where she may go, to walk aimlessly at night in the woods. Where does she go and for how long? No one knows. Lisa knows she is troubled, so let her be…she understands.

Lisa makes lunch for Twin, something simple as she’s unable to voice her thoughts. Fried egg hard seasoned with salt and pepper, slice of ham, tomatoes and olive mayo spread between two whole grain slices. Perhaps some chips around the plate and juice as well.