That Thing in the Desert is No Longer Home

A scene was described to me about a man in a hospital bed. His inner circle had gathered around him all vying acolytes jockeying for the last moments. She told me in a faraway voice about how she was going to wear essential oils because maybe then her presence would bring some calm. There was the talk of playing old movies to revive the sleeping consciousness within. My imagination fills the room with colorful circus performers weeping masks of persona onto the floor. There had been many years of horseshoe-shaped by-gone days in which everyone in the room had found themselves — curated weirdness and ostentation. Khaki and a white cowboy hat icons of contrast. Is this counterpoint in the flesh?

Nothing says white privilege like the idea you are remaking culture in your image. From bayside Ivory Towers, a set of ten commandments renamed principles, which are less burning bush and more golden calf. Such rules are used as a guide for people to bring out shadow selves in the name of expression and inflict them on others under the guise of community. If you dare to speak up against the abuses, such behavior begets, than you are cast out for not being inclusive. The kind of logic that makes gas-lighters proud, but I suppose that comes from lighting so many fires. If you wanted to convince me that you wore the white hat; then you would have followed Law in giving the people use of your icons without the kissing of rings.

The rich lily white masses will gather for his wake appropriately themed — futurism, borrowed of…