A Day in the Life of WordPress Darling Trent Fucking Lewin

Fall or jump.  Doesn't fucking matter.
Fall or jump. Doesn’t fucking matter.

            Wake up.  What country is this?

            Downstairs, the doorman greets me.  “Hello Mr. Lewin, how are you?”

            “Fucking.  Address me as Trent Fucking Lewin please.”

            “Oh, I see.  How quaintly Canadian.”

            “Do you know Hook?  Do you know Hookie?  Tell me right now you fucker!”

            Doorman looks confused.  Tries to let me out of the hotel, but I’ll not have it.  “I’m not going out there.  It’s fucking Florida.  There’s no way I’m going out there.”

            “You could perhaps rest in the hotel bar?”

            There’s an idea.  There’s a conceit.  There’s a brilliant notion hanging from the penis-shaped chandelier above, the one with the carefully-crafted testicle-textured light bulbs.  And I’m in the bar.  The Florida bar.  Give me a coke.  Just a little bit.  Spray in the rye.  As much as you can fit.  Suddenly, it’s noon and I remember that I’m supposed to be sitting in a session listening to someone talk about the importance of being incredibly earnest and considerate unto your fellow man through the mechanisms of modern-day communication, a proper treatise on how to avoid being a human shitstain in these days of wildness and rage.

            “Hi, how are you?” says a blond.

            “I’m fine.  Do you want a drink?”  She sucks one down.  Then another.  I try to keep up.  Fucking Florida.  They make drink machines down here.

            By two o’clock I’m in the pool, making the waves.  Making the waves.  The blond is afraid of water.  “You’re like eighty percent water yourself,” I tell her, going under.  Underwater, sound is a refractory material, and I get the notion that this is in fact the agonizing existence of one Trent P. Lewin – that’s right, Trent P, the singularity across time and space tossed over one border and two time zones, flitting to the past on his way to a potential drowning in a swimming pool next to a tiki hut.

            I get out of the water.  The blond is gone, thank God.  I take off my clothes.  Someone gasps.  It’s not the good kind of gasp.  Someone else faints.  An old man stares.  “Hey, you, old man,” I say, “what are you looking at?”  And then I’m running through the hotel.  I crash into a Mormon.  I leap over a Muslim.  Catching my breath in the elevator, I relieve myself on an Englishman.  He just smiles.  Smiles and stares.

            “Umba,” I say into the cell phone.

            “Trenty!  Yes yes, it is Umba from Strasbourg, how are you?”

            “I’m naked in an elevator and just pissed on a Brit.”

            “Well day is young, Trenty!  What do you need from Umba?”

            “Relief.  Relief from this heat.”

            This is the day.  These are the days.  This is the vision of Trent Fucking Lewin, the ceaseless barrage of apathy that is required to engage in the process of making a living; this is the address of where the wild ones rave, writing words that need to be written but doing it on the mirrored walls of an elevator as an Englishman sits piss-soaked in the corner.  And then the doors are sliding open and some well-dressed businessmen walk in, talking about the relative cost associated with human lives that are sent to do construction in high-risk countries.

            “Two million, get the insurance together, we lose three or four workers and we’re still making money.”

            “Excuse me,” I tell them.  “I’m not wearing any clothes.”

            “Re-insurance.  We cover our liabilities doubled over.”

            “I pissed on a Brit.  That would explain the smell in here.”

            “Oh?”  One of them looks over and nods.  This is normal, he is saying to me.  This is to be expected.  And as one, in a perfectly synchronized motion, they pull out their penises and shower the Brit some more.

            On the roof, there’s no one.  Just sun on my burning skin.  It should be me alone up here.  There shouldn’t be anyone else.  It’s impossible.  It’s unheard of.  But there they are.  The legion.  The masses.  The armed forces of humanity, huddled at the edges, all naked and burnt to a crisp, all moaning for relief from this heat, as though it’s inconceivable that they should go back down and participate in the normal ebb and flow of human existence.  They’ve chosen to come up here, to the land of Trent Fucking Lewin, to moan their way into his sentience.  To tell him that he’s not alone.

            One of them, a black man with no hair, walks over.  “You lost, man, you lost.”

            “No, I belong here.”

            “No man, you lost.  We saw you coming.  We don’t believe that you are meant for here.”

            And he’s right.  It’s all right.  This isn’t the place for me.  These aren’t even my own words.  They’re constructs, deranged bits and pieces slathered on a baking pan shoved into the enlarged hind quarters of a God that hasn’t seen fit to properly and clearly define the strictures by which we should live; these words are just fragments of frustration and madness, swirling about as the very oxygen that I need to breathe gradually oxidizes my cell membranes, making me older.  I should light a match.  I should burn the world.  These are the days.  This is the day.  These are the eminent first world problems of Trent Fucking Lewin, whose main problem appears to be that he has no problems, no worries, no lack of comfort, no reason to despise the Florida sunshine or British people or doormen.  He’d rather do better to go swimming out in the waves as dusk comes and those little fish with razors for teeth nibble at his toes.  Nibble at his toes.  He’d rather do better to kneel in a chapel.  To piss on the altar.  To rage that this is his life, without hardship, with such fortune, in the face of everyone who isn’t so lucky.

            It’s luck.  Luck.  It’s fortune.  Misfortune.  It’s chance.  It’s happening.  It’s occurring and sick with deceit, to all of us.  It’s not just Trent Fucking Lewin that is going mad with the benefits that we so heartily and constantly enjoy, it’s all of us.  Bestridden with problems of the mind while we engorge in pleasures of the flesh.  I drink some rye.  I drink some wine.  I down fifty bottles of beer until I want to cry.  This is my problem, the lack of problems.  This is my wanderlust through the halls of this hotel, naked as a fucking pelican stripped of its feathers, slamming Arabs and Jews into doorways and begging them to fuck it out/find a hole/any hole will do, grabbing Syrians by the pubes and asking for their forgiveness, lurking in the halls of some Somali quarter of back alley fucking baseless piece of shit corner of earth, trying to explain that it wasn’t genocide, it couldn’t have been, we would never have allowed it, and thinking to myself yeah well, it probably was, and back then, my biggest problem was whether or not to put processed or real cheese on the slab of dead cow that I had snuggled between some shitty clumps of processed fuck off.  Screw you and your shit-eating grin, I tell the mirror.  You’re just lucky.  Lucky.  And don’t fucking forget it.

            It’s luck.  And these are the days of luck.  And luck is a crab that I kick into the ocean.  As I snuggle on the beach.  On the hard sand.  Where it’s night.  Where we expose Trent Lewin and his fictitious words of utter bullshit.  Words that sink into the sand.  And then under the waves.  And then out into the sea, hopefully to disperse before the action of waves, or to be dashed against the rocks of those who don’t have the sheer fortune to write it out, as I do.  These are the days where I wonder why we complain about the things we do, why we rant about what we rant about, why we expand on the trivial, cute things that come upon us in our daily lives, as though we have become, through the stupefaction of our wealth, worthy of this insipid, collective munching of sugar cubes as though they are made of sophistry.  As though we are worthy of our problems and our perceptions, and not guilty of a single sin, not even that of inaction, of letting a poor sot drown in the waves as we sip our drinks on the beach, under an umbrella.  Under an umbrella! because otherwise it would be too hot, and we would sweat, or we would wither, or we would become so thirsty that we would actually have to gather our bulbous flesh rolls and have someone lever us off our hammocks to make the epic, sweltering trek back to the bar to have another drink.

            Shit.  What happened to us?  When did a worthy life become about slathering aged horse manure on a computer screen, because we have the ability to cry our problems to anyone who will listen?  I’d sail away, find some godforsaken patch of impoverished ground, and I’d rather do better to help some skinny no-life whose problem appears to be a minor matter of no fucking food, no fucking water, no fucking security, no peace, no humanity, no nothing other than a real set of hardships that are properly worth screaming about – not this other shit, not even these words, none of it.  Here by the waves, I could build the raft.  The boat.  The fucking flaming ship made out of splinters of the beachside hotels I’d like to bomb into subservience.  But I won’t.  I won’t make the trek, that ocean voyage.  It’s too hard and I’m too comfortable.  I’d rather dwell on that asshole who cut me off yesterday.  Or that grocery clerk who put the egg carton at the bottom of the bag.  Or tell the story of that one time in college I made out with a statue and then fellated its sword.  That stuff is fucking priceless.  It’s so fucking awesome.  We have so much to say.  And not one fucking meaningful thing left to do.

            So here I am, stuck.  Stuck near the waves.  And I wonder, and this is what I think: are we becoming insane and unstable because we are too redolent?  Too comfortable, while other countries drink our piss and bury our garbage?  Too eager to consume these calories as others beg for our scraps?  This is the day.  These are the days.  How the fuck did we get here, to this point in time?

            How did we let this happen?

            Sun comes and I wake up.  On the sand.  Naked and alone.  It’s already so warm.  Fucking Florida.  I talk to the ocean.  Say into the water: bring some hurricanes.  Erase this place.  Start over.  Do it right this time.  Because you know, that would be a tragedy.  We’d mourn the loss, mourn the destruction of all that property.  That’s the real problem.  The real crime.

            “Mr. Lewin, how are you?” asks the doorman.

            “I’m fine.  Real fine.”

            “We were worried about you.”


            “You don’t seem quite right.  You seem agitated.  And we have fairly extensive video of you running naked through the halls of our hotel.”

            “Is that a problem?”

            What is the problem?

            Is there one?  Is it over here?  Is it over there?  Did I just take a dump on it?  Or does it seep out of my pores?  Scrawl itself as words into this useless flesh?

            Sorry, but was that the issue over there, hovering over the waves?  Aiming a judgment built amongst the stars at us?  Right, that’s the concern?  The issue?  Is it?

            Is it?

            Is that, my friends, when we get to the bottom of this horseshit wall of words, the real problem?

Die.  Just die.  Hurry up.
Die. Just die. Hurry up.
Dream hard, rage hard.

162 thoughts on “A Day in the Life of WordPress Darling Trent Fucking Lewin

  1. I fucking hate that you included the picture of a starving, dying child wihout even a fucking nod to helping. You can sit fucking naked in your dirt and mental filth and smear your shit all over yourself and the fucking world if you want – it’s yours to do with whatever you choose. I’d suggest you’d find a bit more meaning if you had even a teeny, tiny bit of grace, but we all know that ain’t gonna happen because you don’t believe there’s any fucking thing bigger than you in this fucking world, so,logically how could you ever be thankful? – you have no one and nothing to fucking thank. So, again logically, there’s not a fucking iota of hope for you or your horrid situation – because there’s no meaning, hence no way to move in the direction of betterment. Bigger fucking people than you have decided, in history, the same thing as you: grace is meaningless – and some of those people have gone on to murder millions and torture and starve and hate – after all if there is no point, then there is no right or wrong or moral or ethical, how can there be? So, Trent Fucking Lewin, you’re in good company in the fucking world, and yet you have some fucking ways to go yet to be truly hateful, so keep trying. After all, other than fucking immoral business men, you’ve so far only smeared shit on yourself – except of course for the starving dying child at the end. Maybe that’s a good place to start, may be you can expand that thought and perhaps help to starve more children or perhaps advance a program to wipe out the poor by euthanasia. I mean after all they are a reminder of how fucking worthless you are, so if you help eradicate them, it should reduce your fucking apathy, shouldn’t it? We’re lookig to you for some great things Trent Fucking Lewin,. after all you’re the first world asshole with the wealth and the fucking eductation and the will to hate.

    Oh, Happy Fucking Father’s Day. Think that little starving bastard in your photo will ever get to hear anyone say that to him without your help? Un-Fucking-Likely. Congratulations, Trent Fucking Lewin, you no longer have a problem, you now are THE PROBLEM.

    1. Now THAT is a comment.

      Interesting point, but I feel like we should play a game: in twenty words or less, what do you feel my post was about?

      I’m not hateful, Paul. I may despair at times, but that largely comes from ramming my head against my ineptitude. I don’t fully understand your comment about trying to wipe out the poor… that certainly wasn’t my point. Apologies if I wasn’t clear, but here let’s have a shot at it: I fear that our general inaction leads to mass murder on an epic scale. Every day. And that, to me, is a problem. A great problem, a hellish problem, and the problem that may ultimately define us. And one we don’t do much to correct. Why should we, when we’re comfortable? When we build walls around us like shields?

      I am the problem. I’m curious to know what you saw in my post that said otherwise. I am the problem. Most of us are. Fucking hell of a problem, isn’t it? I’m sorry for upsetting you, Paul, by words or the pictures I chose, but I have to tell you, poverty and inequity and sheer evil don’t take the day off for Father’s Day (just a first world corporate piece of bullshit, no?). Smeared shit on myself… that was the entire point. I deserve my own rage. And I will tell you, in my opinion, grace (whatever that is) can absolutely suck it, for I have yet to come across anyone who benefits tremendously from a good helping of grace. Sounds like another first world platitude to me. What’s it mean? What’s it good for? Where do I sign up? And how does it make anything better?

      I lack answers and solutions, my friend. Another failing, to be sure, but sometimes I just feel overcooked with comfort when sitting in some bullshit hotel drinking the drinks and eating the nice food. What’s it mean? Why’s it necessary? I can’t answer. Maybe that’s frustration, maybe it’s sheer evil. I’ve lost the ability to tell the difference.

      1. If you want twenty words, Trent, I could say that: Your rant was indicative of the emptiness and meaninglessness typically felt by first world middle and upper class citizens. (19 words, not bad , eh?)

        I actually wasn’t angry or even upset at you, personally – I read through your post a few times and figured the best way to address it was to meet it head on with the same emotion, logic and vocabulary. Just poiniting out why you felt that way – no grace, nothing larger than yourself. You don’t have to be Sister Theresa, you just have to help in some way by recognizing that your job is to help make the world fair (not to be confused with The World”s Fair -Ha!) and by using something, anything, of the gifts you have been given (born in a first world country, intelligent, had the oportunity to get an education, decent health, enough food, the opportinity to love. etc, etc, etc). But you can’t ever see them as gifts unless you believe there’s something bigger than yourself in this universe. And until you see them as gifts, you won’t be able to share them to help others and make the world more fair by your effort. I’m just talking maybe sponsoring a child through an NGO (careful, some are scams, so do your research – there’s an excellent site at Rev Can where charities have to register and report finances yearly), or maybe volunteer some time with a local organization, or even just smile at someone who is having a bad day and let them lean on your strength for a minute.

        Anyway, I’m not upset – in fact I think you clearly and accurately presented an angst shared amongst our contemporaries. Truly it needed to be said. Acknowledgement is the first step to figuring out how to address it – obviously it interfers with your contentment, fulfillment, happiness – whatever you choose to seek. I was suggesting an way to address it – certainly not an answer but rather a direction.

        Oh, Happy Father’s Day 😀

        1. Well, I don’t know – I hope we don’t need to believe in something bigger in the universe in order to act ourselves. I mean, yes the universe is bigger than us as a whole, but I’m sure we can dip ever so gently into our consciences and do something useful. Unfortunately, I think we need to do a lot more than sponsoring kids or helping out here and there, we likely need to collectively change our lifestyles – and that will be difficult. I hold out hope, sounds like you do too.

          Your summary was bang on. My theory is that this angst percolates into our brains and partially deranges us, and possibly leads to some of the issues that plague our minds.

          1. There is only on way to eat an elephant : One plateful at a time. I suggested doing small things to start. That will change how you feel and establishes a direction. Where that goes is up to the individual. “I hope we don’t need to believe in something bigger in the universe in order to act ourselves…” – I think that we are built that way and that we never can be “ourselves” unless we are acting in the way we are built. That’s like saying, I hope we don’t have to have cats to get kittens. But whatever, as soon as you start to acknowledge and act as if others have an equal importance in this world as yourself, then you are making headway. And your actions alone, will not necessarliy change the world – all you can do is exhibit grace and in so doing treat others as you would treat yourself and share what you have been given as gifts. You don’t have to try to solve all the problems of the world with your actions – the world is much more complex than that and honestly, it ain’t all about you anyway. That being said, Micheal Jackson put it best: If you want to change the world, first look in the mirror and change the person you see standing there.

        2. Dear Paul…. This is in reply to your last comment. I think Trent was looking in the mirror and perhaps the world reflected back, sparking this vintage Trent Fucking Lewin piece? I could be way off…

          1. I agree unfetteredbs – Trent didn’t like what he saw. And most don’t. And my point is that you don’t have to change the world to see a different reflection, you just have to change yourself. (Oh, by the way, I never did like Jackson as a person but some of his work is valuable. Kind of like the Pharisees – do what he says, not what he does.)

        3. Ha! Some real entertainment!
          I did guess that Paul was trying to meet with Trent on same level with his(Paul’s) manner of presenting his comment. However, he did not seem to know Trent as a person here the way some of us have known him. It is on the background of this understanding that I have no misgivings against Trent. As a user of art, he has done well.
          Further, using his art can also be said to be a crucial step in trying to reach people in a manner so as to make some positive change.
          Yes, in both big/global and little everyday approaches to life, I think impacts can be made. However, now that you two smartheads have mentioned what I think is the biggest challenge of all, I might as well add that I do not think changing the human nature pervasive on the world scene is a readily possible feat.
          Hope? I do have hope.

          Good piece, Trent. I was intrigued by the manner and depth of passion: even though (as you may know), I do not particularly use swear words -nonetheless acknowledge the rationale behind the use of them -or speak of the Unseen in ways beyond me, you must know I did feel this piece as a work of art and could hit “like” more than once if possible.

          1. Hope is pretty much everything, Doc. Sorry about the swear words. As we have discussed, my work life is involved of trying to correct these imbalances. It’s not enough, and in some isolated modicum of self-congratulations, I tell myself that at least what I do day to day is helpful. This doesn’t mean that I don’t feel often like blazing my inadequacies across any page within reach. The frustration is in the loneliness of a pursuit that seems like it’s the only worthy one. You know, it’s just not enough. Take 10% of our energy consumption and spread it over the developing countries, or 20% of our food, or just pay more for gasoline, or just stop burning coal for god’s sake, or put efficiency limits on cars… well, we know the answer to those propositions. We won’t hardly walk across the street to help the downtrodden in our own cities, why would we pop across an ocean to help anyone?

            1. Yet a fascinating and confusing concept at times.
              Nah! I do not particularly take offense, please.
              Don’t we try to also, at times? And when some of us notice traces of seeming indifference or numbing, we feel ashamed we can’t be genuinely moved with passion to actually do more, meaningful, things.

              I wonder how that shall be -changing our lifestyles that way, for the sake of another cause?

              Oh dear Trent, and you just dunnit! @”We won’t hardly walk across the street to help the downtrodden in our own cities, why would we pop across an ocean to help anyone?” Word!!! Sadly!

  2. Come to Virginia next time. 🙂 Dude this is so cool you put yourself in here. And are in your face honest (for once?) Very enjoyable. I pissed on a Brit once.

  3. You know what. You just wrote something I think about just about every single day. Are you sure you aren’t inside my head. (Now, there’s a story idea.)

    My biggest worry right now is how much money my car insurance just went up because my younger son got his driver’s license so I now have to pay car insurance for two teenage drivers and four cars. The thing is there’s money to cover those costs — what bothers me is that it will mean less money for the “fun” things. And, meanwhile, as you say, “no fucking food, no fucking water, no fucking security, no peace, no humanity, no nothing other than a real set of hardships that are properly worth screaming about.” I begin to feel quite small and ridiculous and think that all of those people who are struggling in Syria and Somalia and Afghanistan and even places in my own backyard are more deserving of what I have than I am.

    You hit this one out of the park, Trent Fucking Lewin.

    1. I would love to be in your head, Mark. I bet that’s an interesting place.

      I have a bad feeling that our time in history is going to be judged very badly for what is happening. With all the tools that we have to communicate and travel, you’d think things would be getting better, but it appears that the inequality gap widens. And worse than that, we still have atrocities in the world. How? Really? How’s it possible?

      1. Sadly the atrocities can be attributed to an inevitable aspect of human nature. Preying on the weak, using power for bad instead of good, selfishness instead of selflessness. The list could go on. Us humans have a dark side that is impossible to stamp out.

        As for what’s in my head — bunch of cobwebs.

  4. Well, hello WordPress Darling! I read recently that 75% of people on our planet do not have food, clean water, clothes, or shelter. Amazing how we have come so far, yet so many people suffer. That said, people do have problems but they do not compare to basic needs. We can do so much more. But why does nothing change? Is it that people feel they do not have control so are simply apathetic? I don’t know, Trenty. It’s a tough one and it’s something I do think about.

    1. Yeah, I’m a total WordPress darling, they absolutely love me. Not surprised by that particular stat. I figure an average meal here would feed five or six people elsewhere. I wonder what people who have nothing would say to learn about buffets and the like… I don’t know, feels like farce, and so hard to correct, but it needs so badly to be corrected. Apathy is a strange beast. Follows us around, sticks its claws in our shoulders, and then we’re done.

      1. Did you know Trent, that the ethanol it takes to fill the gas tank of an SUV (after all we want to reduce emissions, surely that’s a good thing?) uses as much grain as it takes to feed a family of four in a third world country for a whole month? Our very first world attempts to answer the problems we created, also add to the starvation of third world children. Amazing, what?

        1. I would not be surprised by that at all. If we ate half the food we do (which would actually make us more healthy and less blubber-like), we could do a fantastic amount of good.

    1. Dude, what is there to think about? It’s a reality that we live in, and mostly ignore. I figure we’ll be judged ever-so-harshly for this, in time.

      1. By who? Who will judge us? The future generations who will have no memory of us because all records will be lost in the floods when the ice caps melt? Some supreme being who we will stand before for our final judgement? The alien hordes who come to enslave us only to find we aren’t worth the time or effort?

  5. Yes, Florida has that effect on people…
    You and I may not save the world, but I think we could start with small things like not pissing on Brits. Personally, I’ve successfully held out for a few decades.

    1. Well, as a Brit myself, I have the Queen’s own disposition to piss on my fellow subjects. I don’t know X. I’m sure you’ve been tempted a few times, no?

  6. It’s OK to piss on us – just make sure the person being urinated on is Tony Blair in memory of the hundreds of thousands of dead Iraqis. It won’t solve anything but what the fuck does.

  7. It’s shit isn’t it, how unequal and unfair the world is. Most of what I have achieved I only got the chance to achieve because by some amazing stroke of luck I was born in Australia. Imagine how much knowledge and art and ideas are lost because of global poverty, yet people who have everything get their knickers in a massive twist because they got full-fat when they asked for skim milk in their morning coffee.

    1. Well, that about sums it up. I’ve had my knickers in knots so complicated about matters so trivial that I’ve had to take a butchers knife to hack out my underclothes. And all for what… nothing.

  8. I’m kind of sick with anger this morning and am wondering if you unscrewed the top of my head, took a stick, sloshed the gray matter around a bit, found some stuff and decided to post my secret thoughts that aren’t anybody’s business.

        1. I got nothing for you, other than to suggest you turn it into some inane rambling spiehl that is of no benefit to anyone, and that most people will heartily ignore. Case in point, my friend. Every now and then, I pause, realize where I am and how fortunate I am to be here, and think, well, fuck. How can we not be angry? How do people tiptoe through this type of existence as though this is all there is, as though we’re not getting decadent?

          1. I tried to do a post but it was so awful and poorly written that I trashed it. And, really, who cares? Someone will be reading my scree from a hospital bed and spit on their laptop monitor.

  9. Dealing with the insufferable humidity in Florida is enough to make me go all Natural Born Killers. Piss on a Brit? Bah! I would shit on a French-man.

  10. hoo boy you are havin a spell aren’tcha? If you could manage to get everyone to have the “spell” at the same time you might find an answer….

    1. Yup, it’s the planetary witching hour, should last oh, say two centuries or so before the planet inevitably cleans up this mess (namely, us). Hi Julie!

  11. OK, it seems we have all been bitch slapped quite properly. Sadly it was a well deserved bitch slap. At least three times today something put me over the edge compelling me to scream out,”We suck! There is no humanity in humans. We should be disgusted by ourselves”. I walked away from this screen beyond disgusted. Then I came back and read your post. Judging from your comments above it seems there was a lot of us thinking like this today.

    I admit to having some concerns about you wandering around naked in the hot Florida sun. Brits tend to burn their bits that way but as you said in the grand scheme of things whats a few burnt bits?

    1. Yah Michelle, but I own the bitch slap and I should properly and vigorously direct it at myself. Here’s to the days of madness, I don’t know what else to celebrate or why I would do so.

      As to my burnt bits… ewwww. What an image.

    1. Because I can only fool myself so long into believing that staying in some beachside resort for work, expensing ten gallons of alcohol while chewing on oysters, is real, useful and somehow human.

  12. I heard that spending too much time exposed to the Florida sun will cause strange things inside one’s head and possibly result in hallucinations involving running around naked and pissing on Brits in elevators.

    Excellent, provocative, and challenging post, Trent.

    1. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t hallucinating… come on, the Brits got it coming, we are still mere colonials to them.

      And thanks Doobster. I don’t know about excellent and provocative, but I’ll take the challenging bit any day.

  13. My company sent me to Florida in the middle of July…but no worries, because in this first world, you can turn the A/C down to sub-arctic temps.

    What got me was the insurance guy saying we can lose three or four people and still make money…ain’t that the truth. To companies, we are widgets. We think we’re steaming shit, but we aren’t. We are expendable. Some may laugh at the homeless guy sitting on the curb, but never realize that they are an eyeblink away.

    That said, a small, small part of me thinks there is still hope.

    1. I’m with you. I think Trent just got a hold of a funk. Or a funk got a hold of him. And it isn’t wrong. I believe it to be accurate, but all is not that bleak. I bet if he took a deep breath, and looked at his family, his loving wife and beautiful children it might help lift the funk a little bit. It seems there should be a way to be more humane and not have to punish ourselves so much. To be more giving without giving up.

    2. Widgets indeed, Jaded. Only we’re not. And we shouldn’t be treated as such, even by ourselves. I agree, there is hope. I figure that as long as you feel something like anger about things that are injust, there is hope. It’s when you feel nothing or can ignore things easily that we have a problem.

  14. Trent Fucking Lewin… if that is your real name… what does the “P.” stand for? Don’t answer, I don’t need to know. If I knew your name maybe your problems would be my problems, because empathy. And, I’d rather that not be the case. I’m much happier with my ostrich head buried in the sand, or is the monkey hands covering my ears, eyes and mouth? I can never remember if I’m a monkey or an ostrich. I’d look down to confirm but that seems problematic here in the dark….

    Thought provoking. Bold. In my face. Spot on. Insert other cliche phrases here. What do you want me to say? Nothing, right? Because you aren’t actually calling us to action you are just pointing out the flaws that should be addressed if any of us cared enough to do so? Or, am I wrong? Do you actually want us to do something?

    Sorry. My family and friends come first. They get every last dime I make, either now immediately to put food on the table and shirts on our backs and a roof over our heads, or in some plan for the future in case of emergency or to improve our way of life down the road. I don’t have the time, energy, or money to worry about the problems I don’t see.

    Besides, it’s dark here, I can’t see anything anyway.

    1. Ha! I love that: “…It’s dark here…”. I don’t think it takes money or time or whatever – it’s a matter of perspective and attitude – ya know -gimme some ‘tude! And I am suspicious that a great deal of judging will go on at one point or another – future generations, family, friends, any Higher Power you may believe in, etc, etc. I am of the firm belief that we will be/are held responsible, at one point or another, for our actions.

      1. First thought – by the time we might be held responsible for our actions we will be long gone and it won’t matter to us anymore.
        Second thought – if we ever held people responsible for their actions the world would already be a better place because we would have judged and improved on the mistakes of prior generations…

        1. Oh, it will matter dj! It will matter. People have been held responsible, it’s just that stupid is so easily regenerated!

        2. Well, I think we do do that, in fact, though it’s not always obvious and we’re fairly inundated with stronger examples of people who have the common sense of an ass wart.

          1. ha! I call my little girl neighbor Sophia Pia Pants! (only cause she started callin me Julie Booley. I don’t usually call young people names)

    2. Pants. P stands for Pants.

      I think you’re one of that new breed of monstrich. The mating that had to go down to have those critters couple was both notable and messy. This also appears to be my mating ritual.

      What do I want you to say? I want you to go as fucking nuts as I am, you already know that. I want you to be angry, because anger is good for the soul and is better than ingesting vodka up the ass (though not by much). Am I not calling you to action? What does it take to call you to action, or anyone else? It’s likely a shitload more than I can provide. Do I want you to do something? I want your anger, and your guts, and I want you to write something profane, brave, and if need be, utterly stupid. I just want, as any writer wants, someone to feel something that isn’t automatic and robotic and trivial. I want fire.

      Your family comes first because a) you’re a good man and b) you are lucky enough to have the means to deliver on that promise. It didn’t have to be that way. I think we should all understand that. And if you were on the other side of the coin, I think you too may look to the privileged for a bit of help, and have some sadness that such help is not forthcoming. I have kids too. I cherish them. But I am lucky, my friend, and so are you, and we can suck on a luck-stick made of angel penis all day long if we want to, but the problems are still there and they won’t go away and they may one day come knocking rudely on our way of life, and fuck – I hope they do. I fucking hope they do, because maybe we need to be disturbed to that level, and uncomfortable, and a little more cognizant of our blessings, and of those who have none. No one gives a shit, Matticus, about the time, energy and money we lack. Only the rich get to think about things like that.

      Paul wondered where my solutions are. They’re right here. Right here.

      1. I have no fire. Maybe in a couple years when I’m sleeping again and have the energy to make fire again, I will have some. Maybe I will have enough for an inferno. The future is a mystery at this point – all things are possible. But, for now, I must cheer on from the sidelines those who dare the flames.
        A lame excuse, I know. A cop out. A choice. My choice, and it is one I’m neither comfortable making nor uncomfortable owning up to. It is my truth for the day. Maybe the year. Maybe the rest of my life.

  15. STIR…IT…UP!!! man, you make my little poem look like horseshit when you do that! But I liked it! Hopefully out of your millions of followers, one or two will wake up. you’re version of how fucked up we are is so much more fun to read than mine! lol maybe I’ll go work on a rant too… must have been an orgasmic release! 😉

    1. P.S. For whatever reason, I looked up “screed” after I posted this comment, and one of the definitions includes the word “tedious.” That’s not the sense I meant. This is anything but.

      1. Good thing you specified definitions Ross. Being from Nova Scotia, I automatically assumed that “screed” was the plural of “scrod” and I thought to meself bye – that there lad is gettin’ a hunger on from reading all this here material. eh? ‘E needs to strap on the feed bag. Nuttin like a good feed a screed to fill ’em up. ‘E’ll be a lot ‘appier now.

    1. Hey spa-curious! i’m just doin’ what Trent Phucking Lewin suggests: “I want your anger, and your guts, and I want you to write something profane, brave, and if need be, utterly stupid. I just want, as any writer wants, someone to feel something that isn’t automatic and robotic and trivial. I want fire. ” See, it’s Trent’s phault. HA!

  16. I go off the grid for a day or two or three or ten, and come back to this? Holy phucking hell NB…I reserve this space to come back to…to spray my own particular scent…when I am able to. I have a thousand thoughts running eith the bulls in my head…gonna see which ones survive. In the meantime…I HATE florida. be back…

  17. “Shit. What happened to us? When did a worthy life become about slathering aged horse manure on a computer screen, because we have the ability to cry our problems to anyone who will listen? I’d sail away, find some godforsaken patch of impoverished ground, and I’d rather do better to help some skinny no-life whose problem appears to be a minor matter of no fucking food, no fucking water, no fucking security, no peace, no humanity, no nothing other than a real set of hardships that are properly worth screaming about – not this other shit, not even these words, none of it. Here by the waves, I could build the raft. The boat. The fucking flaming ship made out of splinters of the beachside hotels I’d like to bomb into subservience. But I won’t. I won’t make the trek, that ocean voyage. It’s too hard and I’m too comfortable. I’d rather dwell on that asshole who cut me off yesterday. Or that grocery clerk who put the egg carton at the bottom of the bag. Or tell the story of that one time in college I made out with a statue and then fellated its sword. That stuff is fucking priceless. It’s so fucking awesome. We have so much to say. And not one fucking meaningful thing left to do.”

    I know I’ve just quoted a huge slab of this piece but man, that hit me hard. Why can’t they say this stuff on charity ads?

    You’d think a story about someone pissing on a Brit would cheer this Irish gal up, but nope. (that’s a joke British people. Also, I know you’re British Trent so definitely a joke 🙂 )

    1. Ha! I know it’s a joke Janey, I figured it was okay to include the Brit reference cause I am one. I wonder if I should pitch my services to UNICEF or the UN or something? Now that would be a career change.

  18. Oh Trent. Isn’t it funny how we all agree to agree that the world we live in on a day to day basis is important and matters. I sometimes wonder why don’t we all get together and say. Hey who are we? How did we get here? Where are we going when we die? Let’s get together and figure it out. But no, there’s a sale on Tikki lamps at Big Lots. We can’t miss it. What if we go outside tonite when it’s dark and we can’t see or what if we get bit by a mosquito or something. Then what? We have to get that Tikki lamp even though we’re not really sure what it is or what it does. It’s a fucking Tiki lamp!! And it’s on sale!!! It’s against the unspoken law to not be distracted by our shiny object faux-reality. I love your rant. I love it! I love it when someone bobs their head up out of the water and shouts “Land Ahoy” even if everybody else including the guy who shouts it just goes back underwater again. My heart beats a little faster.

    1. You know Linda, I think in addition to being blazingly funny that you have a genuinely good heart. Plus you cuss like a champ. Love that line, our shiny object faux-reality. I think that about sums it all up, unfortunately.

  19. Trent, darling, someday some future generation will discover the mainframes of the Internet buried beneath the rubble of our civilization, and when they extract the information, wading through Terabytes and Terabytes of porn and LOLcats, someone will discover you and declare that you were a visionary and a genius.
    Oh, and do you know Robert Hookie? He shops at the same comic book store as me apparently.

    1. Helena, you honour me. I don’t quite know what else to say other than thank you. A place neath the porn and the cats and whatever intersection the two of those makes is perfectly awesome to me.

      I know my friend the Hook somewhat, but only from here. I recall you saying you were from Burlington area, he is obviously from Niagara area, but we’ve never met. I like to bust his chops on his blog, but sadly he has had a horrific leg incident of late, so his notoriety as it comes to this post has been seriously misspent. My timing sucks.

  20. I told you I’d come back to this. And I’m not sure I’m completely sure what it is I want to say, but maybe it’ll come as I write.
    First…the emotional side of me…the same one shows up every time a Save the Children or one of those ASPCA commercials comes on…is crying, and will continue to for as long as these atrocities exist in our world.
    Second…the passion and fire side of me (which is about .75 of the whole) is going full speed in opposite directions. 50% of the 75% (I could just say 37.5%, duh) of me is yelling at you to wake up and smell the pennyroyal tea. I’m sorry, but as I stated so fervently in another of your comment streams…I have no pity nor empathy for adults who hurt children for making bad choices or for not paying for, nor learning from, their own mistakes. I know…you are likely thinking this is headed in a very ignorant or rednecky direction, and maybe you are right…but you cannot, simply CANNOT tell me, that through centuries of living off the land, the women of these God forsaken areas of our planet have not figured out how to STOP having babies. Even the cavewomen figured out how to stop it or sadly, even how to end it if they had to. For me, it’s one of those crawl before walking steps that needs to happen if there is to be any hope whatsoever of gaining ground towards making things better. If you cannot feed/water/clothe yourself, your mate, your one child…why the fuck are you having more? They may be uneducated…but that is a FAR CRY from being ignorant! (and yes, I know, it’s simplistic and obvious…but that does not make it a wrong way to look at things)
    Third…the balance of that 75% passion and fire is again pushing and pulling in a multitude of directions…let’s leave the percentage of which feels what and what feels who….I’ll just set it out as it comes…
    Yes…it’s fucking luck. Luck that we were born here and not there. Wherever that ‘here’ or ‘there’ happens to be…if it’s worse than where we are, then yes, we were fucking lucky.
    Now…the questions are:
    “Are we to blame for that luck?
    “Are we to pay for it for the rest of our lives?”
    “Are we to feel guilty because we have and they don’t?”
    “At the expense of mine shall I try to fix yours, just because?”
    There are no easy answers…and we each undoubtedly have our own…mine are NO…I won’t feel guilty. NO…I won’t suffer mine to ease yours. NO…I won’t pay for your mistakes IF YOU KEEP MAKING THEM.
    However…what I can, will, and do, do…is inform and educate where I can.
    Give time and money where and however much I can.
    Sign petitions to hold to the fire…the feet of those corporations/charities/do-gooders…who make those who are already suffering reap what they, the corrupt, sow.
    Corruption…no other word.
    There are billions being funneled into these countries for education, infrastructure, systems to bring water and sanitation…WHERE IS IT?
    Why can they NOT catch up?
    Are they even getting it?
    Is my voice even doing any good?
    That, I’m guessing is another NO.
    Now…for our own future currently being buried in trash we can’t bury/burn/dump in the ocean any longer…where is the money to build facilities that have already proven to be the answer? Turning trash into energy? It’s real…it’s in place…but not enough. Why is recycling not MANDATORY EVERYWHERE? It’s such an easy thing to do…separate your trash, put the recyclables in a bin, have it picked up just like they pick up your garbage…how can anyone say no to that?
    But it’s not mandatory…it’s a choice. And for some who can’t have it picked up, just too damned inconvenient to bring it to a reclamation center. We pay taxes to our local and state governments…we should DEMAND part of those taxes pay for recycling.
    There’s more…but I fear I’ve come off as trite and not overly original enough for now.
    None of this is new.
    None of this is UNFIXABLE either.
    We don’t need new ideas…we just need the right people, enough people, forcing the hands of those in power, those controlling the funds, getting fat off the backs of the less fortunate or God Forsaken…
    And…just as a side note…I’ve observed that most humans like to follow…so I suppose what we really need is better leaders.

    1. Wow! A true response rant. You know, SB, that I love you and always will, but on this I must disagree (although I always respect your fire – you have a real burning in you, as I’ve seen before). I don’t believe the problem is that these people are having too many kids. $3 bucks a day to live on doesn’t go far whether you have 7 kids or 2. Overpopulation is a myth, anyway. It’s over-consumption that is really doing the harm. Population control or anything of the like doesn’t address the relatively inequity of wealth distribution; it makes it worse, but doesn’t explain it at all. It’s just not the problem.

      I don’t think history supports that the people in poor countries simply made endless strings of mistakes. We have a long history of colonialism that speaks to the sins of our forefathers. I think we have to take responsibility here, this is not all about them having made so many mistakes that they should take accountability for them. I think we have to take accountability, or nothing will get better. It’s not enough, to me, to say that these people are simply no good at living compared to us, and thus we write them off. These aren’t necessarily mistakes of their making.

      Why are they not catching up… foreign aid is largely a joke, what is being done currently is a drop in the bucket compared to what is required. There is no catching up, the income disparity between them and us is increasing, not decreasing, and it’s not because they are misusing foreign aid. They are not sitting in villages and town wondering why they are squandering all that plentiful foreign aid, I can assure you of that.

      The trash thing, I agree. Energy from waste is viable, but also a drop in the bucket compared to the total energy requirements. A very large scale EFW plant will generate at most, say, 100 MW. The province of Ontario where I live requires 20,000 MW to keep things going. Not enough. It’s part of the solution, but just a very small part. Recycling, yes, that is a true good, but we put almost 70% of our waste in landfills, and that is just a fact. In Germany and the Netherlands, it’s like 10% in landfills. Why aren’t we catching up?

      I agree, we need accountability. But I don’t think accountability begins with telling other people that they are just not getting it. Some of the circumstances of these lives are so dire that this can’t be right, and that is something I’ve seen firsthand. Better leaders, yes. But more importantly, the will to find and elect those leaders. And the acceptance that perhaps being somewhat less comfortable ourselves is the price to pay for making things right. I figure that unless this disparity is addressed, we will be held accountable at one point or another.

      1. How NB? I look at that photo above and does it suggest to me that this is the result of our over indulgence? How. Is this the result of our having overfilled our landfills rather than figuring out another way sooner? How. Are we to be punished for having the ingenuity and vision to put our brains and brawn to work building our respective countries into what they are? Why, when that’s what allows our respective countries to shell out billions in foreign aid around the world.

        But mostly…why do you feel there needs to be a equal distribution of wealth? I don’t understand that way of thinking and I never will. I don’t feel that what’s left of my paycheck needs to be sliced into MORE distributable pieces to anyone, by anyone, but me. I never see 50% of our household income. The government takes it off the top, and uses it as it will. I live within my means, they don’t. I pay my bills, they don’t. I give to charity, they take. I vote my conscience, and it gets perverted in DC.
        Why is it okay for you (not you personally) to tell me that what I do is not enough? And frankly, where is the outrage or calls for wealth redistribution from say…professional athletes or Hollywood actors, or for that matter, politicians, making millions to play games or pretend to be someone else on a big screen, or pontificate to like-minded sleazebags? Why are they not being brought to the front of the world court to justify their obscene incomes, all things being relative? Why is it then that big corporations, bankers, brokers, or anyone associated with Wall Street are always having their feet held to the fire for making too much and redistributing too little?

        I don’t claim to be an expert on history, but I do know that every country made a shit ton of mistakes along the way to becoming who they ultimately end up being. My comment about making mistakes was just in the context of continuing the cycle of too many mouths to feed and not that poor people deserved to be poor for making them. What is going on in their nations is NOT in their control, obviously. As for the part of our history that is vile…yes, 200+ years ago, my own countrymen colluded with the greedy and the vicious of other nations (including Africans) to do what no human being has a right to do…enslave another. It took a century for my country to come to grips with what it did and try to make what restitution it could, all the while knowing that stain will never be removed from our history. It would always be too little too late. And the Civil Rights movement was not embraced by everyone in our country. But it’s law and every human is protected under that law, yet there are still programs in place that compensate one race over another for those sins. Do I think there should be? No, I do not.

        The most important restitution that could ever be paid to descendents of slaves…and the future generations…is to never do it again, not keep apologizing for something that happened so long ago that there are no longer any living witnesses to that atrocity. We severely fucked up, good people fought for equality, we changed the laws as a result of those fights…we now move on. Can the same be said for Germany? Have they ever worn the same social Red Letter for the atrocities of the Holocaust? I still see documentaries, have heard scholars, know institutions, that deny it ever happened. Unbelievable. Yet, I’ve never seen a documentary or heard a scholar suggest slavery was a figment of the African American’s collective imagination.

        I have to question “it’s not because they are misusing foreign aid” The people aren’t. The governments are. This is not about income disparity. Their incomes cannot increase as long as their countries remain stagnant. So…the aid may be less than they ultimately need…what’s being done with what they DO get? And again, where does it end? When does their (not the individual) lack of progress in the face of the aid they do get come into question? Rather than send more and more money, why not use our expertise rather than our pocketbooks? Why can’t we (all countries) award (global) government contracts to companies to go there and build infrastructure? Build systems to bring water and sanitation? Use what natural resources they have for energy, and barring that, build systems using what’s available (like the sun?) Teach sustainable living particular to their own country?

        Put our money where our mouth is, rather than our money in the hands of governments that, if they knew one thing about helping themselves, they’d have begun to already? Rather than depend on the goodness of small organizations willing to go to these places (talk about a drop in the bucket!) why not do something that makes a REAL impact. I’d say no one would bitch and moan if an additional 5 bucks per working person be taken out of our pay and set aside strictly for such contracts. The problem is…who holds them accountable to make sure 1) it’s used for that purpose and 2) contractors don’t steal it in the guise of inflated prices and cooking books. Do I think it would be hard? Yes, but no more so than dealing with government contracts in our own country. I spent years doing such things…it just takes the right person at the top.

        I’m not telling people they are just not getting it. I’m not telling people anything at all. And I’m not immune to the suffering NB. I am all too aware of WHO is paying for all of this. I’m just saying that shit runs down hill. The people are at the bottom of the shit pile for sure, and they are not in the position to fight. WE are. And we can. But throwing money at it without some kind of accountability, guidance, plan is NOT gonna make it any better. Like I said…nothing about throwing money at them will increase the people’s living wages. And without taking some sort of action towards seeing what aid that is given is used to build them up and not line pockets is essential. But…helping them help themselves is the only road to a sustainable future.

        I know some will think I sound cold and uncaring…I am not. I am extremely empathetic to my fellow man. I just believe that we are each born into our initial circumstance…and it is up to us to change it for the better. If we are successful, through work or luck or both…then I believe, as individuals, it is our responsibility to help others do the same if it’s within our power to do so. Individuals that have the right to say yes or say no. Our choice. To give of our own free will, that which we deem we can give. I never hear anyone bitch about giving time or money to those they choose to give to. I do, however, hear lots of bitching, when what they’ve worked for is TAKEN, without regard, and given, without consent, to make things ‘fair’. Since when is life fair? Life is life. We can do better…we NEED to do better…but robbing Peter to pay Paul is not the answer. Never has been. And I think history is actually on my side with that.

        Still love me?

        1. Always love you SB, and moreso because you speak your mind. To me, the question comes down to whether or not we are a family of some kind – whether or not this is our family. I think it is. I don’t think we need equal wealth, just maybe a fair starting point. Seems that we have done so much harm over history that it’s not fair for us to say that those guys aren’t trying hard enough, and that’s the problem. These are people. Same as me and you. Neither your nor I have ever worked at the level required to pull ourselves out of third world poverty; we were given our fortune. To ask them to work in a way that we never had to… I just want a more equitable starting point. I suspect that if we don’t do that, we will have more and more of people in other countries hating us, and whatever comes with that. Governments? Yes, inefficient and poorly run, but governments are just people too, and we choose who makes those up. Corporations? Greedy and more than willing to engage people in poor countries at a fraction of the wage and in appalling conditions compared to what they would do here – but we support these corporations. We made them.

          To me, it’s not just money. It’s whatever we can pull out of ourselves to have consideration for other people – including the children who are literally starving to death – the same consideration that we might give to the starving kid across the street, but don’t apply to the legions across an ocean.

          1. In an ideal world, we could, as individuals, help by doing our part to end suffering where ever we see it…no matter where it was. but as it is, we see it on tv, the internet, magazines, and what is our recourse? send money, if anything, volunteer our time if we are not otherwise obligated. That is all we can do. again, a proverbial drop in the bucket. we cannot fix this without big money, corporations, or governments…regardless how they got into power…it is OUR job to make sure they do what we the people want them to do. Which is fantasy at the very least. and all but fruitless…as gov’t does whatever the hell it wants, within or outside the boundaries of the law. So…we can talk, we can debate, we can feel bad…but we can only do what we can do. and no…it’s not just money, but without it…it becomes…all about the money. I wish, I wish, I wish…you are a good soul my friend…time for all good souls to rise up and begin a new machine. just wish I knew how…

  21. I waited to comment because frankly, this post scares the shit out of me.
    The comments are even scarier.
    The picture at the end is terrifying.

    I think that by writing, by highlighting issues, by starting a blog collective to give a voice to the human condition, I’m “doing” something. But I’m not. I’m farting into the wind. I KNOW that.

    I marinate in my own anger every day. Every day I feel one day closer to having lived a life devoid of any meaning. You called us to action, but HOW? I need specifics. I need direction here. I’m ready to take aim and fire, but I have limited ammo. Tell me what to do here, Trent.

    1. Yes. Ammo is limited. I can’t save all the schoolchildren in the burning building. How do I help without devoting my entire life to others, when it makes me so damn happy to devote my life to myself?

      I could list the things I’ve done, and they’d be pathetically puny, and still I’ve done more than so many, and still it will NEVER be enough. I’ve stopped watching the news because it makes me sad that the world is this way, and guilty that I won’t be the one to change it.

      I love eating oysters. They taste like the tears of starving children.

      Are we born bad just because we are born privileged? What are the minimum requirements to be part of the human race? Why can’t I look the vet begging for money in his eyes when I pass him day in and day out on the side of the road?

      You have the answers, right Trent? Or you wouldn’t have written this?

      1. The tears of starving children… I love oysters too. Although I’m not sure I can eat another one after that comment!

        No, we’re not born bad because we’re privileged. There’s no sin in luck. The crime, if I can call it that, is never acknowledging that fortune enough to lift a finger to help those who weren’t born with it. Minimum requirements to be part of the human race… that’s a good question.

        Answers, same response as to Samara. On this, you slog through the muck if that journey is of your choosing, and you come to your own. No one is every going to hand you answers to something like this. I have mine, and they work for me, but very inadequately (hence such a rant – directed at me, by the way – not you – I don’t know you enough to know what you do or do not do – there is no one in here that I know well enough to judge in that manner, and I hope that I wouldn’t if I could), and failure pops up in many forms. Lacking the satisfaction of doing any good, I just wonder what we’re here for if not for this. What is a good life?

    2. No, that doesn’t work. No one’s going to give you answers on something like this. I have my own. You have to work out yours. Something this hard is never resolved that easily.

      I’m not calling you to action, Samara. I’m calling myself out for inaction. Relatively speaking, because this whole issue is something that I work in day-in, day-out. But still not enough.

      1. But I want to make a difference.

        I don’t want to just accept everything the way it is. There are too many things to be addressed.

        And all I do is tap at my keyboard. Is that inaction? Or even worse, does it prevent action?

        Okay, I do a little more than that.

        But it’s still nothing relatively speaking. I want someone to lead me into battle. I do. I can’t do the leading. But I’d make a great soldier.

        This is blogging at its best. It’s got me all fired up and freaked out and uncomfortable. It makes me hyper aware of just how fucked up things are, and that’s never a bad thing.

        1. I love being fired up, I love feeling like I WILL. You’ve a good heart, Samara, I figured that from the start, and I don’t particulary believe that you’re a soldier or anything of the like, people listen to you. They do.

  22. Dude, I’ve read this and all the comments about four times now and still don’t really know what to say… I think Girl Seule’s comment summed things up perfectly though. Very powerful stuff man. You have a great ability to switch between genres.

    And I have actually pissed on a Brit. Though I was a lot younger and very drunk.

  23. “this is the address of where the wild ones rave” — i absolutely love these words. i think they are you, or a skeleton of you. i like this skeleton. its soul is its bones.

  24. Hi Trent. Although you probably don’t like to go back to old posts, I think this one is one of my favorites that you’ve ever written. It’s like you scooped out the guts of a pumpkin and then threw them here for people to read. I miss you, so I visited your blog to read a post or two just to be inspired. I need that to continue writing. The image with this will never leave my mind now – and that’s a good reminder to never take anything I have for granted. Keep being honest like this and sharing your heart and gifts with us – ok? 🙂

    1. I will Kelly. I actually really liked this post when I read it, felt kind of brutally honest. And it is honest, beneath all the craziness. So much of it is real, and what goes through my head. I will stay honest – hope you do too.

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