dreamstate writing 15 May 2018

During one of this morning’s dreams, I and a handful of other entities were on our way to the airport to board a flight. On the way, we stopped to go hiking on a path that ran alongside a tall, vaguely circular, wooded mountain that looked strongly familiar. In order to reach the lot where we’d parked our car, we had to pass through a long tunnel, which featured a roofed bulletin board  from which paper message and bags that people had forgotten were hanging.

Recognizing a white canvas bag as one my father used to own, I lifted it off of the wooden peg from which it had hung and opened it up, rifling through the contents. Out came reams of loose papers as well as a few old-fashioned photographs. The latter I kept turning over in my hands until I could see the images they bore, mostly poor-quality pictures of my siblings and me in our youth sitting amongst our parents in darkened rooms.

Suddenly, I became aware of a large and threatening shadow-shape lurking under the steel walkway that lead through the tunnel. My initial attempts to flee were thwarted by my companions, who soothed my fears. Then, during the same or a subsequent dream, I heard with my waking ears someone that sounded just like my deceased mother say my first and middle names, to which I responded, aloud, with, “Hi, mom.”

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

bountiful foodstuff supplies

He'd stood on his doorstep and prayed there for rain and yet all his pleadings were offered in vain for to the wrong goddesses he'd made his plea – all hail the Steppe Mother, all praise be to she who causes her moistures to fall from the skies who grows our rich bountiful foodstuff supplies. Her gaze covers all the farms south of the Pass, from ones that grow grains to those that just make grass for feeding the livestock from which comes all meat, without which most mealtimes would not be complete. The Steppe Mother calls upon Grigovians to alter tradition and change up their plans and consume such items the Earth herself makes and stop eating chicken pig or bovine steaks. Great mountains of barley wheat corn oat and rice would become available and would suffice to feed all the people we have in this land if diets were switched to vegetarian. So stop putting animals into your stews and sample with recipies based on this new exciting and cutting-edge curriculum that sees all things living together, as one.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

blessed steppe mother

Our own modest steppe-land is not like another – watched over, protected, by blessed Steppe Mother. She shelters all animals under her wing and cares for the smallest and biggest of things, for field-mouse and springbok and furry cave-bat, for lizard, mosquito, and tiny sand-cat. Her colors are azure and ocher and gold, of her glory is in old stories much told, she makes all the grasses and midget trees bloom with dazzling blossoms and miniature plumes. Her watch never wavers through daytime and night, her justice is brutal and sudden and Right, her worshipers leave very few lasting traces to prove that they've been to the offering places. Her voice can be heard in the strong piercing winds that blow away evil and erase our sins, that race down the Yiptlong so steep and so high, as soon as the summers begin to turn dry. So come seek her presence, it is always near, it makes the soul vibrate and brings men to tears while women and babies just laugh with delight quite devoid of sorrow and empty of fright.

© americanifesto / 場黑麥

a Catholic beating

Brazenly violating the teachings of her purported savior and the rules of common courtesy, a supposedly-pious area mother assaults and batters her own, unruly child. “We just can't control her anymore,” the mother is reported to have said. “She curses at us, complaining because we only listen to the Christian radio stations while driving in our car. I went to smack her on the mouth the other day, for saying something stupid and for using a bad word, and the child jerked away from my hand and tried to run away from me. What kind of little shit won't stand still and take her just licks? Incredible.”

Contrary to this news team's initial speculation, the woman's priest, an anal-retentive man with painfully fair skin and a disproportionately large food gut, was not troubled upon hearing about the woman's physical abusive of a child supposedly in his flock, saying, “YHWH gave that woman's husband absolute power over her and that child, but, since the husband is a spineless lightweight and the woman bore the child for nine months, squeezing it out of a tiny hole in her nether-regions, she has the right to discipline it as she sees fit, which, of course, includes smacking it on the mouth whenever she wants to. So long as she does not stop publicly praising Jesus and making regular donations at the church office, she could even kill the child without us so much as batting an eye; in fact, YHWH demands that parents kill unruly children.” (Leviticus 20:9)

Due to the ever-present threat of violence at home, the unruly child has been staying with her aunt and uncle, who do not beat children, since they are worthless fucking heathens. The abusive mother declined our request for interview, stating that she had to organize the next session of 40-days-for-life, a wearisome series of public protests during which the Catholic community labors to restrict a woman's right to her own body, attempting to codify the more radical Biblical teachings into law by legally banning such things as abortion, and birth-control. When cornered at a local discount retailer and asked – in light of her youngest child's severe mental retardation – if she would consider not having any more children to avoid making more handicapped babies, the 43-year-old woman began to scream uncontrollably, lashing out at anyone who came within her reach and babbling incoherently about religious freedom. When we explained to an inquisitive onlooker what was going on, he said, “Jesus tells us to do unto others as we would have done unto ourselves; I don't think he intended for some dumb bitch to discipline her kid by punching it in the face.”

場黑麥 mentiri manufactorem fecit