Month: September 2020

Full-Moon October

wednesday wEIRDness

This October, we got two full-moons and a super new moon all packed together. It’ll be the first time in 72 years since we’ve had a full-moon on Halloween. It’s a pretty big deal. A Blue Moon, nonetheless! So… ehh. What does any of this mean?

harvest moon by ©shutterstock

Well– October 1st, we got a full-moon in Aries, which pretty much guarantees a confrontation of some sort. Most likely, it’ll be within ourselves or whatever force that’s been holding us down. Aries got no chill. They’re the warriors of the zodiac. But no matter what sign the moon is in, it’ll always make us look within. The Moon is a giant mirror. Forcing us to reflect– because it’s in Aries, that’s how they do. It’s all about facing our fears. Bravery & Courage. Forcing us to push through our boundaries. Fear should never motivate you to stop growing.

Then we got that Super New Moon on October 16th, which basically tells us, now’s the time to sow the seeds of our wishes. You can imagine the New Moon as a cosmic equivalent to placing your order at a restaurant. Your server is the Void and the Universe is back in the kitchen, cookin’ up your meal. Expect your order to come out by the next full-moon. Your wishes will bloom. Now, because this is a Super New Moon, in Libra no less– expect our focus to be on Peace & Harmony. Justice & Equality. It’s almost as if the Universe knew we were gearing up for a critical election or something. Crazy.

new moon by ©GETTY
blue moon by ©Universe Today

And all this, leading up to the Blue Moon on October 31st. That’s right, folks. We did it. We finally got a classic full-moon Halloween, and it only took 72 years to get it! And with the global pandemic, raging wildfires, and rising fascism– well, it’s pretty easy to get into the Halloween spirit, amirite? Shit is fucking scary right now. Remember that time in 2016 when clowns were running around in the woods, scaring people? Those were simpler times. Anyway. This full-moon will be in Taurus. Meaning, whatever you wished for during the New Moon– will not only flourish, but infuse with lovely Tauren energies known for stability & long-lasting power. Blessings will manifest that’ll last a lifetime.

moon phases by ©Giuseppe Pappa

7y : 103d : 15h : 40m : 07s

techy tuesday

Remember that movie with Justin Timberlake and he’s running around with a watch that tells him the time he‘s got left? — Oh. You haven’t seen it? Well, I suggest you get really high and watch it. It’s hilarious. But if you don’t have the time for that, don’t worry. It’s become reality! As of last Monday, two artist have installed an exhibit in New York City known as The Climate Clock— it’s a 60ft digital clock that doesn’t tell time. haha, no. It tells us the time remaining. *gulp* We’re all Justin Timberlake, now.

Okay. So what do we do? Well. In Justin Timberlakes movie— if I remember correctly— time is currency. He, ehh, runs around the entire film trying to… prolong the inevitable… or something? I actually don’t remember. Honestly, I fell asleep in the middle, but I think the moral of the story goes, hey, time is precious, live it up, yolo. Which is cute, or whatever. But by the end of the movie— I was pressed. My head kept buzzing with lil’ thoughts like time’s all we got! or, Time’s runnin’ out! and, SHIT! I gotta do something. Anything! We’re all gonna die!! Mhmm. Which I’m pretty sure is what the creators of The Climate Clock are goin’ for. Except this ain’t a movie, folks. This is real. Our planet is like, dying dying. Like, fo’ realzies this time.

“This Earth has a deadline” read the clock before ten red numbers appeared– 7:103:15:40:07– representing years, days, hours, minutes, and seconds left until the effects of global warming become irreversible. Again, I repeat. IR•RE•VER•SI•BLE. This number is based on calculations by the Mercator Research Institute on Global Commons and Climate Change in Berlin. The two creators of The Climate Clock, Gan Golan and Andrew Boyd thought we should know.

“This is our way to shout that number from the rooftops.” Golan said just before the countdown started. “The world is literally counting on us.”

So, Golan and Boyd created a website, climateclock.world that includes an explanation for the Climate Clock numbers, in case y’all wanna go check it out for yourselves. They also include a link to the report by the IPCC, who stated back in 2018 that global warming is likely to increase 1.5°C by 2030 if carbon emissions don’t quit. And if that happens… I mean sure, 1.5° doesn’t sound that bad. But that’s 35°F. That’s— that would mean by 2030, our average temperatures will be well into the 100’s. Icebergs will go extinct. Forests will become desert. I’m not trying to scare you. These are facts. If we don’t do something about climate change within the next 7 years, our reality will become a hellscape. And I don’t know ‘bout you but I didn’t watch that Justin Timberlake movie for nothin’. Times runnin’ out— move it, people!

“You can’t argue with science,” Boyd said on Saturday. “You just have to reckon with it.”

Monday Update

weekly news

[sept. 21 – 27, 2020]

In the wake of RBGs death, the 2020 election has never appeared more dire. The war against democracy endures many waves, but this one has left us naked, defenseless and w/o armor. Just as the final battle– i MEAN, eLECTION– peaks over the horizon, cult45 rushes-in. Desecrating RBG’s dying wish, as they haste to fill her seat. Not only dismantling RBG’s legacy, but they’re also securing a false victory in November. You see, cult45 has been hard at work the past couple months sowing fear and discord in the fidelity of the US election. Once poll numbers started showing Biden/Kamala in the lead, the GOP began preaching, the only way we lose, is if the election is rigged. They’d have us believe that mail-in ballots aren’t safe– planting a seed of doubt as an attempt to prolong the election. And if they manage to do that, well, the election will go into Overtime, and then the Supreme Court will have to decide– you see where I’m going with this? Justice Barrett on the Supreme Court is no bueno. Mind you, I’m doing my best to not dramatize the situation. So, let’s just put all the facts out on the table, shall we?– I’ll let you feel however you want about this (as long as you aren’t delusional).

Here are the facts.

Full name: Amy Vivian Coney Barrett. Born: January 28th, 1972 in New Orleans, Louisiana. She’s the eldest of seven. Five sisters, one brother. She graduated from Notre Dame Law with a full-tuition scholarship. Summa cum laude, of course. Devoutly catholic. Married, with seven children of her own. Two of which, were adopted from Haiti (one of whom she adopted after the 2010 earthquake). Also, her youngest son has down syndrome. Hmm.. you know, on paper, she doesn’t sound so bad. Kinda kickass, actually. Let’s check her record to see if it holds true.

Judge Amy Coney Barrett
(University of Notre Dame)
Barrett in 2018

Says here, she’s a favorite amongst religious conservatives. Who’da thought. Her name was on the short list for scalia’s supreme court seat back in 2017. She lost that to brett kavanaugh. Reportedly, cult45 has been saving Barrett specifically to replace RBG. A special sort of fuck-you to women and feminine rights, if you ask me. 45 must be savoring in the irony of all this. And upon further inspection, Barrett’s record appears just as you might have thought. She’s against Roe v. Wade, anti-immigration, wants less gun reform. against gay marriage, and– Oh, she doesn’t believe in climate change. She’sa peach. An ideal pick for Trumps America that’ll last us a generation. For better or worse, we’re stuck with her.

So what are we gonna do? We’re gonna vote like our lives depend on it. Because guess what— they do. And as long as the votes for Biden/Kamala are overwhelming, the GOP can’t contest it in court. But if they do, well– then we’ll have to reform our strategy. But for now, voting’s all we got. I know it’s sorta crazy how much this one election can change the course of the planet. But stopping now isn’t an option. We’re 36 days before the last battle and yes, the skies are grey– but we cannot lose faith. You hear me? We must rally our final reserves and stand at the ready with our vote. Again, this isn’t a dystopian novel. This is America 2020. And honestly, I thought we’d all be talking about flying cars by now, but instead we’re fighting for our planets survival. Wish I could sugarcoat it for you folks but the stakes are too staked. It’s win, or die. And, that’s death by blazing inferno.

Up the Bum

freaky friday

Top, or bottom? This applies to straight folk, too– Top, or bottom? If you answered top, cool. If you answered bottom, good. If you’re confused, here’s a little history lesson for yah. In ancient greece, they didn’t define sexuality by gender, they defined it by sexual position. There weren’t no fuss about genitalia. Just pleasure, and the reverence to pursue it. This wisdom echoes throughout history, culminating with a resounding comprehension of human connection, and an intellectual inquiry to our very existential nature best summarized by this simple question…

Top, or bottom?

Now, here’s a question for the ladies: Would you date a bisexual guy? Sure, why not, some of you might say. Okay. Well, what if I tell you he likes topping women as much as he likes bottoming men? hmm? My bet is you’ll draw the line there. Jealousy aside, women just don’t like the idea of their man getting it ‘up the bum’, especially from another guy. Even the most open-minded women I know. Doesn’t matter how hot he is— It just wouldn’t work, they’ll say. Then I’ll ask what they think about pegging a guy and they’ll laugh, entertaining the idea. But a REAL penis? Now, you’ve gone too far. That man might as well be gay.

Okay. So let’s flip it. Dudes— fellas—brohams, you’re approached by a woman you really like and find out she’s bi. Does that hurt her chances at getting with you? What if she liked girls as much as guys, you mad? Probably not. Worst case scenario, she makes-out with another girl. Deep down, you think she’s havin’ fun. What a wild girl, it kinda turns you on. Besides who’s she kiddin’. She’ll come back for that D, right? (wrong) But essentially, what I’m saying here is that there aren’t many guys out there that’d be threatened by their woman being with another lady. Some might actually like that idea. Besides, women aren’t a real threat– ahh, there it is– I knew it. The double standard. Alive, and kickin’.

You know, growing up, I remember being gay was bad enough, but if I claimed to be a TOP, things were a lot better. Straight guys found common ground with sticking our dicks into stuff, while women found it easier to forget I was gay. Both benefited me as an alpha. And the more strict of a TOP I was, the better. I had found a loophole in the fabric of society and yes, I exploited it as much as I could. That led to my own rendition of toxic masculinity, but more on that later.

So anyways, the real question comes down to, why do Tops get more street cred than slutty bottoms? And sure you can say, nobody likes a loose butthole. But I’d argue, it’s the same reason why people believe bisexual men are secretly gay, and bisexual women will end up with a man some day. It would appear that as a society, we believe all roads will lead back to one thing. Dick. And it’s beyond gender. It’s beyond sex. Universally, we can all agree: it’s better to fuck, than be fucked– cuz yeah, there’s a special power in that. Obviously. But there’s so much more to sex than that. Straight men like their buttholes licked, too, you know. And women can strap-on dildos with feminine power. It’s cool. The combinations are endless. Next time, we’ll talk about the art of versatility. So for now, just remember…

A finger up the bum today, is equality tomorrow.

Son of a Witch

wednesday wEIRDness

circe invidiosa by john william waterhouse

I was birthed from a storm. Plucked out of the eye and tied to this earth. The storm I call my Mother, materialized in form. As I grew older, I watched and studied her. The magnitude of her Power. Every nuance of her sweeping motions. She taught me to be a force of my own nature. Calling herself a witch when no-one was around. She’d garden and bring dead plants back to life. I’ve always been in awe of my Mother. Creating potions from roses and lavender. A cure for every ailment. An answer for any query. It wasn’t long before I began to create my own magic. Learning to read the stars, understanding the origin of dreams. Mirrors were another reality. A portal to a world just like ours, and if I wasn’t careful enough, I’d be stuck on the other side. Things I couldn’t see. And whenever the sun or moon would eclipse, we always made sure to bare witness. So with all this, I just knew the world we’re born into, is a world made like any other dream. If we can just make ourselves conscious enough, maybe we can create changes like we do when we’re awake in our dreams. Who knows. Till then, I’ve gathered as much knowledge as I could about numbers, symbols, psychology, mythology, druidism, shamanism, black magic, occultism, astrology, and countless other texts of dark matter, spirituality, and manifestation. I would say my methods are unorthodox but they are designed for optimal potency. If anything I mention here scares you, consider it fiction. For the rest of you who are interested, let’s embark on a journey into the Weird!

Monday Update

weekly news

[sept. 13 – 20, 2020]

The biggest news of last week was by ‘n’ large, the tragic passing of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, who, for some reason, I keep calling Ruth Gator Binsburg. Incorrect, I tell myself. And a little rude? Well. All I can say is, you can take the boy outta florida but you can’t take the florida out of… anyway.

My phone buzzed Friday afternoon. RBG is dead. I starred at the text long enough to make my eyes water. FUCK, I screamed, before I realized what this all means. Then, I let out a quiter– more succinct fuck. when I finally realized what this all means for the the U.S. of A. Now, I’m not a pessimist, but I did feel the weight getting heavier that evening. So much uncertainty. So much anger. Disappointment. For a moment, I completely forgot I was mourning the passing of a historical figure. I had to stop thinking I wish she lived a little longer. Just 2 more months and she coulda died a… hero. Oops. I thought it.

The memory of her life will live on in american history. A part of me doesn’t feel as worried about commemorating her as much as strategizing the defense against #cult45 appointing a second Supreme Justice. These lifetime appointments will usher in a whole new era of conservative law, regressing on things that we’ve already fought for, like Planned Parenthood and Gay Marriage. The outlook can turn pretty bleak, but I’m here to say, Look on the brightside! –ahem– let me google it really quick…

_loading…

oh. Okay. So according to NPR, RBG’s last words were a fervent wish for the Senate to wait ’til after election to fill-in her seat. Okay. So you’re telling me that even to her last breath, she fought for democracy and equal rights? Okay. Please, excuse me while I– FUCK— ahem. Okay. Sorry. Where was I…? Oh right. FUCK. Okay… I’m done. Anywho, Mitch McConnell probably looked @ her last words and laughed, rubbing his hands together like a raccoon about to gorge on human waste. I really hate that man, and I don’t really hate anyone. Or at least, I try not to, but the republican party really be trying me sometimes. I think if I had them begging for their lives in front of me, I would totally just threaten them with a machete till they peed their pants on live television while the world watches. Ooh.. Just me? These are crazy times, huh? Who knew.

All joking aside, I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m disappointed. But I’m also hopeful, and optimistic. RBG will not only go down in history but also as a becon for social justice, along with John Lewis and MLK. We lost another titan, but I’m not afraid. This always happens in the Last Hour. All hope is not lost. It sounds corny as fuck, but listen to me. We have to stand together. We have to VOTE. Rile up everyone you know. This is a fight for our LIVES. and that is not an overstatement. i REPEAT. This is a fight for our LIVES. Remember that. Tell yourself every day from now till november 3rd. Tell your fear to hold on, cuz we’re takin’ back the wheel ‘n’ gettin’ the fuck outta here.

Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg speaks with NPR in July, ©2020

Romance & Hi-Kinks

freaky friday

Went on a date last night. And by date, I mean hookup. And by hookup, I mean we sat together, naked, in the dead of night, talking about our lives for 3 hours and never gettin’ around to actually doing it. The blue haze off the TV was our only source of light. It’s our second time doing this. I don’t mind. And besides, he lives 6 minutes away. Walking. So. It’d behoove us to get along. And I mean, it ain’t hard. He’s tall. Handsome. Muscular. (ass was pretty nice, too.) Physically, we matched. Mentally? Yeah, sure. But emotionally? That’s what we’re here to find out. So we start talkin’ ’bout turn-on’s, and he goes first.

Voyeurism, Group sex, & Domination. Cool, I said, acting like a cool cumcumber. What about you? he asks. I bit the inside of my cheek, the words drylodged in my throat. I was laying down next to him, his arm reached around my neck and my legs untwinning with his. Romance, I blurted out. Silence. He takes his arm back. I felt stupid. Lame. Like melted icecream. And for the first time in a long time– possibly ever– I fully realized my situation w/ love. Dating. Ugh. I put on my clothes after that. Our conversation died just like our boners.

You ever been to a mattress store? Hear me out. Did you ever leave without trying one of the beds? If you have, what’s wrong with you? For the rest of us, that’s dating. It looks good, so we wanna try it. In the process we figure out what we like about it. What we prefer. A little softer, a little harder, whatever. Everyone wants something different. That’s part one. Then, we look at the price, right– is it worth it? And somehow that reflects our self-worth. Interesting. Let’s put a pin in that for later.

Now, from personal experience, I’m a mattress slut. I’ve literally tried every mattress in the store, even the ones I know I won’t like just by looking at it, but I try it anyway. Why not? More often than not, I’ve been pleasantly surprised. But this one time, I strolled over to the most expensive mattress in the store. The audacity, I thought. A tempurpedic memoryfoam with powers of levitation or some shit, it was expensive. However. When I tell you. That it was. The best. Fucking. Mattress. I have ever. Ever. Had the privilege. To lay on… Listen. I forgot every other mattress that’s ever touched my skin. Even now, I can feel the softness in my bones, remembering it. All I knew at that precise moment, was that my life had changed forever. Didn’t care about the price. Didn’t matter how it looked. All I knew was that this mattress and I, we happened.

Instinctively, I hopped off and went back to the previous mattress I enjoyed most. It was a cement block. I tried others I thought were good before, too and– no. Disgusting. Utterly repulsed. All my body craved was that one fucking mattress. My body knew the difference now. Couldn’t argue. Sorry, no. The facts were in. Needless to say, I disappointed that saleswoman. Didn’t buy anything, but I walked out with knowledge I could never afford. I experienced true love.

And so, last night, as I walked back home within those 6 minutes, I relearned who I am. Or rather, my body remembered. Commitment, Adoration, & Desire. Consistency. Those are my kinks. Give it to me. I know they exist. My mind can be cynical sometimes and try to convince me of otherwise. But my body knows the truth. So if I can wholeheartedly accept someone else’s kinks, then why can’t I accept my own? Even if it is Monogamy & Romance. Those are my kinks and they aren’t stupid. In fact, as I was brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, I thought. In a world were apathy is encouraged, to care is an act of rebellion. And I’m a rebel at heart. Stay true.

The Journey Begins

thursday's expedition

Buckle-up, Buttercup!

Today, I embark on a journey past the horizon. No map. No destination. Only sure of two things: #1) the steps I’ve made to get here, and #2) the step I make next. And let’s face-it, the latter ain’t guarantee. That’s okay. That’s what we’re here for. Adventure!

Previously, I applied to Buzzfeed as an editorial fellow. A yearlong apprenticeship, doing what I’ve been doing my whole life. Writing. Naturally, they denied my application. Didn’t hurt tho. I realized a vital truth while handing-in my resume. I’m overqualified. By like, a lot. What’s a writer like me doing in a room like this?

That night, I gave birth to The Daily Howl. Popping outta me like Athena. My words spilling out of me, blood ink. Now, all I gotta do is put it to some good use. I’ll be posting anything I find interesting: the news; mythology; pop-culture; fiction; new tech; and who knows what else. Cuz I sure don’t! Just a blog a day. The horizon is calling my name.

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A.K. Wulf by ©jameslegendary