I wrote a piece many moons ago while captured within those contemplative months we all shared in directly after 9/11/01. The piece was sentimental, which at the time was the accepted, appropriate, emotion. However, I was never truly satisfied with its expression – its choices in patriotism and promise always rung a tad yucky to me. Nonetheless, I committed it to print. And so for quite some time I have known that I failed a poem; I ignored a gut feeling and intentionally went all nicey-nicey, all in hopes of getting some gushy awws. Sentimentality always seems to have guts when you’re first grasped by it, but in time it never fails to show itself to be pure fucking flab, especially to the torn and frayed reality of one who aspires to be of a Chalice Sinclearly nature. … Lesson learned. … The occasion to turn a misstep into a stand presented itself recently: it’s 2016, America’s a mess (heroin, cop killings, Rahm, homicidal Chicago, our Public School teachers getting shit on, the pathetic Presidential candidates and how our media are failing us, and how America’s everyman increasingly fears and ridicules intelligence while our “bohemians” are still being conned into the horizonless conformity of MFA programs, etc., etc., etc.), and I had been on my way to turning 50 and in the paranoiac enormity of that the prospect of perhaps one day needing to stop being a juvenile delinquent had begun to encrust my party time. … And besides, today, 9/23/16, just happens to be the first full day of yet another fall. … ~J.H.
“Note to Self at 50”
September 13, 2016
Look at them trees, look how them leaves seem afire today; and don’t you ever be afraid. Brain’s gonna be here tomorrow.
Forever believe there’s dignity, your dignity – your family’s dignity. Forever disbelieve systems that dis-interpret dignity. Systems without dignity won’t ever understand ancestry seeds the imagination with timelessness. This is why undignified imaginations won’t be ripened within the tempered humanization of an unearthly promise. Never be pretentious enough to be selfish enough to believe your imagination dies with you.
Never be that graceless, that artless.
Look! Look how them unpredictable winds blow them fiery leaves from the trees today; and don’t you ever be afraid. Brain’s gonna be here tomorrow.
Forever disrespect those that dis-interpret accountability. Those without accountability will forever be confused within their self-glorifying lies about the utilitarian histories of common sense and dissent. Never try to be cool, just be unusual – only barely show a want for the doubt Free Speech assumes to be a requirement. The truest of radicals find the dead center!
Find the dead center, and call home.
Watch them trees go bare today; and don’t you ever be afraid. Old brains is here.
Always know the most pioneering of all the seasons looms just beyond Santa’s list: trees are gonna be enlivened again, be the prelude to the season of no school again. Go gather all them dropped leaves into one great innocuous pile. Leap into the pile valiantly, again and again. Always know humanity’s authentically moved into the chastity of a future by the simple joy you incite. As you take pause within the crackling pile, peek fondly at the sky (now crisp with the blue captured sun).
The sky alone rewards eyes in selfless flight.