I’m Back.

I’m sorry for not writing more. I have been busy with two jobs and moving in with my wife into our new apartment. I will post a few things and get back to upchucking my writing for you all to see and enjoy without payment (I’m writing as a ghost writer currently, so I’ve been getting paid to write). I don’t get paid here.


Still Said

A gravestone lay
near burton’s bay,
dear Bob, he died,
the women cried,
old friends they sang
his bells, they rang,
on peter’s dunes,
the month of June.
Bob’s feet were stopped,
his heart was topped,
his words still said
though bob was dead.
A gravestone lay,
near burton’s bay,
there bob did lay,
in a silent way.
His words they spake
after death’s wake
into October
his words still awake.

-J.C. Hoyle

Godly Politician

Remarkable the things that come into fuller light while shaving. It was a startling “aha” that made me cut myself in the neck with my razor. An “aha” that I made myself. It hasn’t taken me long, and with no serious doubt has it taken anyone who’s learned with a master’s or doctorate’s degree from a prestigious college, to understand that Christian theism, and specifically Christianity, is flawed and untruthful. This is understood amongst many Americans, and especially those of high education. The “aha” comes when one realizes just how many politicians plow the fields of campaigns and policies using the Christian God. It shows to be a ripe example of the deceptive temperament of most all politicians. The majority of our founding fathers didn’t believe in a theistic deity, and there is more evidence against this belief now than ever. Politicians invoke and refer to “God” in their speeches and promises even though a majority, I’m willing to bet, have no personal belief in such an entity. If you lie on this issue you’re as close to horse shit as humans get. Confusion is acceptable but never dishonesty. When the politician uses god or christianity as support for his ideas or policies, I challenge his character and credibility, as well as his policies or ideas.

Passive Revolution.

My brain is seized up on two competing words. Revolution and passivity. I think now that they go together. You see, my dilemma is with people who tend to sip their tequila and sail on and then the tight panted and headbanded hippies saying war and religion is evil. I think real revolution starts with the mind, then goes onto paper, media- in eyes and ears- through music and writing and television and plays and art and comedy and commentary. It really always comes through the art/entertainment business. I need to get into this business. So, enjoy yourself keeping the bad shit in mind. And don’t forget that someone just died in Africa while you’re sitting on your fat ass reading this. More importantly, don’t forget that someone somewhere has better alcohol than you do. Better weed too. Bear in mind the important things in life, dear pilgrim.

W.B. Yeats and His Glasses

W.B. Yeats had a damn good thought in “Tom O’Roughley”. No need to trudge through the poem here. Go read it on your own time. If true pleasure is carelessness, then oblivion, which is death, can be nothing but the quintessence of pleasure. Damn bright guy, I think. He smashed a point here that can be driven two different ways: death is the greatest of pleasures or the greatest pleasure isn’t understood right. “Aimless joy” he calls it. I may be wrong about how I came to interpret these fluid lines. Though, the poem did end with someone dancing on his friend’s grave, and so I concluded that whoever danced on his favorite chap’s grave must have thought that it was a good thing. For him or the dead guy, one. I don’t relish dying at the moment. I think I have come to a place, a shitty place, where I’ve accepted it, but haven’t really come to true terms with it. I’ve not shaken death’s hand, and am running as far to the back of the line as damn possible. Dance on my grave and I’ll yank your fucking leg under.

Read the Music

Music is the color behind the canvas. Each sound has an attitude and tone. As pen touches paper music plays a song that each reader has to interpret. Listening to the tune of the music is the job of the reader, writing the music is the job of the writer.