The notion of marriage, and possession – of each
other as well as your shit, is fucked up. Hardest part of separation has not
been emotions between me and my partner, because we’re still ride or die for
each other. It’s the fuckin’ economics and capitalism of it all. Together we
were two fists punching in one direction, and that shit’s hard enough like that.
Separated, the system and society and in fact a lot of people who try to get in
our ears get us to punching at each other. This doesn’t help either of us to be
honest. And even typing this, I’m automatically feeling defensive that somebody
would be like “oh he’s just being deadbeat, fuck him.” It’s fucked up.
When I feel angry at the situation, rather than
turn against one another, I like to listen to Swamp Dogg. He’s from Portsmouth,
VA, originally, so maybe is an actual swamp dog. That swamp down there is
allegedly home to a sect of one of my favorite historical concepts – the tri-racial
isolates – or secluded autonomous areas where runaways African slaves,
remaining indigenous natives, and outcast Europeans, intermingled and mixed and
became their own thing. It’s existed as long as organized United States of
America has existed. None of these battles we’re fighting now are new – this place
has had it twisted since the very beginning. Fuck it though, all empires
eventually crumble under the weight of their own unsustainable corruption.
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