Was it only yesterday that I put up a blog in essence stating that I would no longer write about how fucked up we all are and even though I did in fact title the blog, “Just Sit On Your Worthless Ass,” those of you that have read much by me know my style of writing? It is not friendly, nor is it conducive to making friends, but I am appalled after reading some of the comments over there. It was most definitely NOT my intent to bring about enmity between fellow bloggers. I was just stating my need to move on because I am tired and fed up with repeating myself and basically with preaching to the choir, which I’ve stated often enough. I have started a new blog with the intent that it should only contain deep and soulful poetry and prose from me and though I do understand that my followers have been extremely faithful even in the face of so many outrageous rants from me, I feel the need to move on due to the fact that I am causing my blood pressure to rise because of how sensitive I am and over the fact that I can do not a damn thing about a damn thing, beyond raving which is accomplishing nothing, constructive.
It was brought to my attention that I am railing against those that do not hear me and upon further reflection, I find this to be quite true and so what is the point? And since it is making me ill, I need to stop. But in no way was I attempting to discourage others from continuing the struggle to right the wrongs, undo the damage, mitigate the consequences of capitalism run amok, cease to care about the plight of others or just give up. That was never my intent when I posted “Just Sit On Your Worthless Ass.” That is just my unique style of writing.
I do understand why a couple of people have stated that they will miss my rants and could I please continue and so I ask, “To what purpose?” What difference are my rants making? I answer, “no difference at all!” And again, believe me when I say that I do sincerely appreciate the encouragement for me to continue on but when I scroll down and check out the blogs that are on my tracker, I am disheartened by what I see. I am really quite tired of reading about how Obama lies all the time when I know this. I am quite tired of reading about the fact that Europeans are still fucking over the Indians. I am quite tired of reading about the fact that Black people are incarcerated in numbers disproportionate to their population count. I am quite fed up past my eyeballs at reading about the misery that America’s military whores are unleashing on the world’s people, daily.
What really finished me off was reading about the thirteen year old boy that got burned up by a drone strike in Yemen. It touched me so deeply that for days, I feared for my sanity. When looking at his picture, the tears would just silently stream down my face and so I cannot look at him. My writing did not keep little Mohammed alive. My writing or ranting as it is so succinctly put, did nothing to stop Mohammed’s father and brother from dying by drone strike.
To those of you who think of me as strong, think again because even I once thought the same thing about myself but I have come to realize that I too, am weak. I am too weak to look at the picture of a little boy who died because the government of the country that I am a citizen of considered him to be a terrorist even though he was not, but he was killed anyway. I am too weak to look at his picture and not cry. I am too weak to be able to continue to rant against what happened to him because I am a failure. I failed to stop his death. I am too weak to continue ranting for no reason because that is what I am doing since I cannot stop Obama from droning the innocent. And so I take the walk of shame and I will become just like all of the other Americans that go about their daily lives in ignorance, cluelessness, apathy and complacency. In fact, because of what I now know, I wish that I had never left their ranks! They are the smart ones since here I sit, sniveling still because I had to look at Mohammed’s picture, AGAIN, in order to link that blog post to this one. Do I seriously need to continue in my attempts to get you to understand that my decision to abort my writing, excuse me, rants has nothing whatsoever to do with any of you? It is because I need to stop since I am only hurting myself and no one else and I must stop because I cannot face seeing another Mohammed. My heart is already broken over little thirteen year-old Mohammed and all that I can do is weep for him and that is helpful how? Exactly!