This is an example of flagrant and audacious fraud, and a shameful misuse of public funds.
–U.S. Attorney William M. McSwain
The most obvious shift is that the cost of living is so insane, it’s difficult to hire and keep new people.
-Elaine Katzenberger, City Lights
We Have Spent $32 Million Per Hour on War Since 2001
It don’t take much to bring my love around…
–Shakey Lyman
THE FOLLOWING POST WAS WRITTEN YESTERDAY, WEDENSDAY OCTOBER 17, 2019, BETWEEN 4 AND 5PM CST
Feeling good is bad for business in Personal Journalism. It’s off brand anyway, but deadline trumps all. That’s why I set them. Deadlines must be upheld, whether I’m disinclined, morose and fucked or if I’m fine, ok, copacetic and even happy. I’ve used my blues, truth be told, like a bullfighter, but who the fuck wants to write when they’re happy? So I’m hacking it out and incredibly having a hard time writing today because nothing is wrong. The worst kind of trouble is no trouble at all. Ain’t it, Reverend?
They were certainly having a hard time between 7th&8th on Red River this morning. The city votes on new vagrancy measures tomorrow so the police and EMS were breaking up the homeless camps beside the ARCH and behind, in the alley. Front Steps staff were huddled in a circle by the exit when I walked out with my parking pass. Exodus. The homeless are getting moved. Tarps and pallets loaded and hauled away. It was hostile out there and that’s the first time I can say that–in over 2 months of reporting to the ARCH as a computer lab tech with Austin FreeNet in the pre-dawn and piss-smelling dark. There was talk of an abandoned hotel and a town hall meeting but I left to go to job#2 only to be stood up by my Audi-driving boss.
The deadlines I’ve set, to release a collection every year until 2025 and post up to 1,200 words here every week until I die, are a deal I’ve made, with you and my own self-worth. I prove to you I’m a writer and if I don’t then I failed. These are the stakes and the dark motivations that keep me posting, self-publishing and anyway stepping into the light of day. It’s this deadline that has me here in the War Room punching this out instead of walking around out there in the glorious Fall. Meanwhile all those folks unwell in body or mind or just unlucky probably yearn to be in here. This city is trying to sweep them under the rug but it’s too late. Everything’s been exposed. We all see it and we won’t be able to pretend disparity doesn’t exist anymore. The 4th wall’s been razed and I’m glad of it though shit’s gnarly ain’t it. The 4th wall coming down is what gave me my start, here, at Going For The Throat–and my charge is 6-1,200 words every Thursday, regardless of how lucky or unlucky I feel.
Luck comes and goes, but it’s mostly privilege that got me here. Inspiration can be fickle but it’s only testing you. We’re here, 444 words in. We all know the score. I can’t do anything about what’s wrong with the world. But I’ll do my part and be glad to. Twelve or so hours a week down there and with a new and roving eye for the non-profit sector. Truth is I identify with the row and people on hard times way more than I’ve ever related to squares and even my Brothers and Sisters of the working class. Bullshit bores me but the real will keep me interested and better, focused. I don’t have much time for anything else. I’ve got books to put out. Hope to see you on the streets motherfucker.
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Going for the Throat 