the kirkyard

Naming it and claiming it.

I'm A Cumberbitch.

What I have been doing this morning...

(I love those three dots. My favorite punctuation, besides three asterisks.)

Slept in because my car is in the shop after shredding a belt. I am not part of the demographic that owns 2 or 3 vehicles. Still haven't heard from shop over what needs to be done.

Had two cups (Actually mugs. I wish we would stop referring to mugs as cups.) of the world's best coffee. Peet's Major Dickason Blend.

Laid in bed and listened to binaural music and played computer solitaire. I'm still at 10% winning. Working to get to 11.

Decided that a glass of chardonnay might be appropriate at 10:25. Delicious.

Was thrilled with email from Letters of Note. https://news.lettersofnote.com/p/do

Loved it. Loved it even more by watching Benedict Cumberbatch read it. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VnSMIgsPj5M

Amazing. He should receive a lifetime achievement award for reading. I'm going to read this and watch this at least once a week.

I am officially a Benedict Cumberbitch.

Fuck the world!

Let everything go to hell.

...and feel better.

These are some of the tweets on my Twitter feed this morning...

"$ETH above 3k by end April. Period.

Falling but it felt like flying

Goodnight simulation participants.

How’s your day going? I just got a flat tire while at the dentist.

"Holy" ≠ morally good

Want to quit Facebook for good? These apps can help..."

...(I quit in 2016. Am I better for it? Not to the facebook whores. They are the good true news. In their mind.)

I feel so enlightened by reading Twitter.

No poem today. Maybe later...

And as always...

More later. There's always more later.

P.S. Love love the new look of Listed!

Enduring. How Endearing.

Easter. Sunday morning. Neither have any meaning for me. I sit. I drink a second cup of coffee. And now I write.

If anyone has read any of my other posts you can tell the undercurrents of anger, anxiety, and angst. Being bitter is not a good look for most people. Although in the America of today bitter is becoming a by-word.

Now I need to do some catching up. Starting from...

August 22, 2020...

I live to have no opinion about everyone else's opinion.

September 15, 2020...

Ordered a phone off of Amazon last night at 5.

It was at door at 6:45.

What hath God wrought?

September 23, 2020...


there is no future
for those who are enduring


December 7, 2020...

It sounds so bovinian.

Cud it is.

I am milking it
For all it's worth.

Some sit with sundowns
that never rise to the occasion.

No one needs

No one reads
a morning's passage in the rain.

No one should walk into
thunder and expect buttercups.

No one truly wants to empathize.
No one needs to eulogize
you and your say.

A day of poetry got in the way.

-the kirkyard

More later. There's always more later.


There are no rhymes or reasons for the following. Enjoy it or deplore it. Whatever way you wore it, deploy it.


Esmé Weijun Wang • 汪蔚君
Good morning.
May we be safe.
May we remember
that we are not alone.
May we find
companionship in our
loves, in books,
in beautiful sentences. May we find solace
in our own beating hearts.
Eyes up. Let's go.

the kirk@the kirkyard
...Bad morning.
There is no safety in numbers.
May I forget
that I am alone.
May I lose
all or nothing
to be atoned.

This from wordsofwomen on instagram...

“There’s a ton you can get in life if you’re willing to submit yourself to the mortifying horror of asking for it.”


As we are perfecting Artificial Intelligence beings at what point will we stop using the word "artificial" When those beings do something we have programmed them not to do? Akin to eating the fruit of the tree and becoming self-aware? Our engineer/creators will be so proud we have entered their profession. What name will we be called by our "creation" as a sign of respect and worship? Sapien? The Human? How about "Be"?


God damn America.

There. I said it.

But it carries no power when you are an agnostic atheist. So...

May their God, and their belief in that God, damn America.

(I think we can see that that oath is more than half-way there.)

I am unsubscribing from a shitload of newsletters. Newsletters that have the answers on how I can be as cute as they are. Mentally, emotionally, and physically. Now, that's too cute.

I played solitaire for 3 or 4 hours straight last night. Does that make me a gamer if I didn't kill anyone except myself?

There are books to teach you how to have "Disruptive Thinking"? Seriously? I come by it naturally. Every waking moment.

Podcasts. Fishing for alien incubators.


And eat some carbs. It won't kill ya...

"Lots of anxiety and dread out there. I hope y’all are taking care of yourselves. Keeping it on the one and all. Things that have been working for me, other than drawing: no phone in the morning, taking lots of walks, re-reading favorite books, playing music, voting early and avoiding the news as much as possible, making art with my little dudes, cheerful retrospection in my diary, and not thinking about my life after dinner. (And don’t forget to wash those hands!)" https://mailchi.mp/austinkleon/if-you-draw-the-world-becomes-more-beautiful?e=a0e13765fd

The only interesting people in the world, truly interesting at a molecular level, are people who suffer.

Words I want to repeat over and over today...


I take an anti-psychotic. Donald Trump negates any positive effect.
He is the anti anti-psychotic. We are all psychotic.

I wish there was only a one hour period, at most, that the news was reported, posted, or broadcast. Fuck breaking news.




Changed my mind. Carbs will kill you. I'm stupefied by cheese puffs.




It's entertaining to watch Christians destroy and replace the teachings of their Messiah with a new false god. "By their fruits ye shall know them." And their fruit is rotten to the core.

The laughter you heard coming from churches yesterday were Christians when they heard the pastor or preacher reading the words of Jesus...

"But I say unto you, Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you, and persecute you..."

And with one accord the Christians echoed their new Messiah..."I don't think so!"


Actually, I am pretty happy having had transitioned from the abusiveness and racism and holier than thou hypocrisy of Christianism, to see the crumbling and destruction of American Christianity.

Jesus was right about one thing though. "Nevertheless when the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth?"

Hopefully not. Because we will better off for it.

If Jesus could not even answer the question "What is truth?", why do Christians think they can answer for him?

I have a new favorite word. Animus. Short. To the point. And rolls off the tongue.

I'm still drinking my morning coffee at 9:30 a.m. (Just a little something personal to break being sated with hate.)

I think Americans are missing the boat over Trump and his followers movement of hate.

It's the Christianity stupid.

This is what 21st century Christians and Christianity are. They are revealing their true colors and beliefs.

The holier than thou's of hell.

And to end...a poem.

The bleak bad nights,
they cry alone.
The tomb's the same,
the bones are stones.
The stars have fallen,
no hope atones.
The bleak bad nights,
the devils roam.

Smile. It and I may get worse.

More later. There's always more later.


See the "Thank" button at the top?

"The world is made good when good ideas are supported. You can tip or thank the kirkyard to encourage the author to continue doing their best work. Tipping is telling the author: keep doing what you're doing, or, I want to see more of this in the world."

Thank you.

On We Go

It's been awhile since I published anything, I know. It's not from lack of wanting to. It's from a lack of energy. Energy that's been sapped by depression, anxiety, and just a general breakdown in my mental and emotional state.

I guess you could call it a crisis.

But rather than to go in to all the details and diagramming it out, let's just say I have been incapacitated.

I like that word. Incapacitated.

Living is hard. It's even harder when you have a mind and a psyche that you cannot control.

I thought I was doing a pretty good of controlling it by walking everyday and walking long distances at least a few times a week.

I thought I was controlling it by adhering to a strict low-carb regimen. A regimen that helped me lose weight. A regimen that made me feel better. A regimen that gave me energy.

I thought I was controlling it by doing first things first. Making my bed the first thing. Cleaning my kitchen before there was a mess. Dusting and vacuuming the house on a regular basis.

I thought I was controlling it.

But what happened was, I had the capacity to be incapacitated again. Because that is how it works when you have a mental disorder. It controls you. You never control it.

I wish I had the concentration and mental capability to explain it and myself to you. But I'm sure that some who read this will know the underlying despair and pain that an unmedicated schizo-affective, bipolar, major depressive dysthymic person endures. You are there. You know.

And I mourn with you.

And on we go.

Those who have read this blog know that I jump around quite a bit. From one thought to the next.

Why stop now?

Cactus reflection..."What’s something that surprises you about adulthood?"

My answer...That at my age, I can't thing of one thing that would surprise me. That is an unpleasant surprise.


The political and social war going on in America is really a religious war.

Churches and individuals and families are now celebrating the lives of people who carry out suicide. Have yet to see or attend a celebration of life for a survivor of such.

Poem time...


In the beginning
the Bible says God

God says
I am the beginning

In the end God
switches parts

Sarah laughed

I regret this

More later. There's always more later.

It's Dark Enough

It was so brave of me to wake up this morning.
It was so brave of me to hold in a scream.
It was so brave of me to weather the anguish.
It was so brave of me to live in-between.

If Trump and the oc-T-cult are Christians, Christianity can't die soon enough. Even God himself isn't able to turn these bitter waters sweet.

A rainy day.
A gray day.
A darkest of dark coffee day.
Heavy-laden with cream and bourbon
Let the morning have its say.

Is there anyone else besides me that enjoys an al dente banana? One that has not quite knocked on sugar's door?

There were nightmares last night.
One belonged to me.
And still in the light of morning
The day I cannot see.

Phyllis Stokes. A beautiful spirit in need of universal peace and beauty. Deliver yours.

More later. There's always more later.

Raising The Bar

There is hope. Trump. Toast. Pass the butter.

But I'm also afraid the damage has been done. Could it get worse? Yes. The bar has been lowered.

9 times out of 10 scrutiny screws.

Has there ever been a generation that spends most of their waking hours indoors but worries what the weather is going to be like 10 days from today?

For those of you on a deprivation diet, whether it be keto, paleo, vegan, or vegetarian, (and believe me, I have been a ketour), I raise my bar to you.

Was there ever a better cookie bar? No. The answer is no.

For my mind and body, there is nothing more spiritual than Enya as background to a late Tennessee afternoon with a glass of chardonnay and weather that feels like the early spring. A soul-quieting experience.

I have a poem:


Do not talk to me
about resurrection
before sunset.

I have heard enough
and dreamt enough
devotional dirges
to last me
a lifetime.

  • the kirkyard

More later. There's always more later.

Beginning's Begin Again...

and endings need an end.

Good morning.

I hope the morning and mornings for you don't feel like most mornings do for me. Not good. And not a morning in the metaphysical or poetical sense. For me mornings are when my physical eyes are opened and my body breathes and my mind screams in the silence of a barely noticeable will.


But let's get to some practical matters.

Yes. It's been awhile since I posted anything. It is a kirkyard after all. Get it? Kirkyard. Look it up.

You can smile now.

But back to business.

You will notice that today the days of the #100Days writing challenge is not counted down in the post title and there is no #100Days hashtag, because I have not accomplished, by a long shot, being able to post something each day for 100 days. I wanted to. But my wanted to didn't match up with my can do.

But that is my life.

A life that hasn't and couldn't match up with what living with purpose, and vigor, and hope, and joy, and all those positive and affirming words should entail.

But at least I am consistent.

Regret is the pole that aligns me to my deep sadness. My deep morose. My deep pain. My deep darkness. The king who possesses the throne of depression.

A consistent call that demonizes my days.

Another thing you will notice. I'm losing the asterisks between lines and paragraphs of my thoughts and subjects.

(And a cheer arises.)

Secondly, I am going to be hold myself to being brutally honest. Even if it is hateful, it will be an honest hate. A hate not hidden or parsed. You may not like it. Hell. A lot of times I don't like it. A lot of times I hate the hate. But if love is all we need, we'd all be in a sweet coma. A diabetic tribe of catatonic cattle unable to have their own distinctive moo. And I will moo even if the rest of the world boos at me.

Thirdly. (Oh! A trinity!) I will be calling out Christians and their crutch of the clutched cult of Christianity. It is a topical way of life and belief that I am most familiar with, so I'll add my two cents worth of diatribe. So if you dwell in the land of milk and honey, you may want to avoid crossing the border to the land of bastardly bombast and brimstone.

You will notice that I will jump around a lot. From thought to thought. From topic to topic. It's a mind thing.

Don't mind me.

There will be piss-poor poems. And the occasional good one. Yes, written by me. And if you happened to be pleased, thank me monetarily. In that particular way, I'm easy to please.

So I hope you stay. If even for a day.

Let's carry on. Shall we?

The problem with wanting to be a writer is that you have to write something.

I am pleased that we as a species are giving our lives over to the machines. They are learning fast aren't they? Hopefully someday they will have the reasoning capacity to emote happiness. To emote compassion. To fulfill promises. To even emote for emotion's sake.

We, as flesh and blood entities and personalities, would rather not hear or communicate audibly with our flesh and blood brothers and sisters.

Talk about being ignored within a compassionless mass of cellular automatons.

We do. And we are.


Turn out the lights.

(Oh yes. A lot of what I write may have no rhyme or reason. In that case, it's written for me. See?)

One last thing. I will keep a referring feature. This...

More later. There's always more later.

Day 70: Need Nothing


There are great articles and essays on Elle and Vogue.

Suicides can never be poetic justice.

Why do churches now hold "celebrations of life" for those who commit suicide? I have never seen them hold a celebration of life for those who have survived suicide attempts.

What kind of despicable names would Donald Trump be using on Mr. Rogers?

The boiled custard is out in the stores. God help me.

Have you noticed? No asterisks!

Do I need reiki? Or does reiki need me?


Lonely lasts
as long as
needs bleed.

I have lost so much energy. (There ya go. Your need to know.)

More later. There's always more later.

Day 69: Nothing New

Neapolitan ice cream. Over half of a half gallon. Gone.

The other half is shame and guilt.

I have hit a wall. A lull. A depressed state.

I need lifting. I need pushing. I need the pull forward.

Life should be a lilt. Not something endured, embedded in silt.

Yes. That was a little personal. That's okay. I need to spell it out. Honestly it's only honesty that gets you through.

That's nothing new.

Another sleepless night. Dog barking. But you already know this story. So I'll move on.

Yes. I still love my asterisks. Sets of three. There's something about three's to me. May be based on the Holy Trinity. Which is something I no longer see.

More later. There's always more later.

Day 68.2: Be My (Pay) Pal

I’m going to take a donation of $25,000 from anyone (and everyone) random who retweets this because you feel like being nice to me. (Or at the very least, you enjoy what I'm doing here at https://listed.to/@thekirkyard.) (18+, void where prohibited, never ends)

Donate here: https://listed.to/@thekirkyard/tip

Inspired by:

Blatant aren't I?

Day 68: Enjoy The Show

How To Win At Solitaire: don't play it.

How To Win At Being Solitary: resign yourself.

How To Win At Being: consider it an alternative reality.

How To Win: expect the worst.

My question is: Why did humans have to be commanded in the first place if they had received the knowledge of good and evil from the fruit of the tree in the "Garden"? Are we like dogs and horses and have to be trained to obey commands? To me we are all just a part of that God's put-on dog and pony show.

(Caveat. I am not a Christian believer. Or for that matter, not much of an anything believer. Woof. Woof.)

Inspired by: https://austinkleon.com/2019/10/28/the-ten-commandments/

The best way to celebrate (or mourn) the end of Daylight Savings Time is to drink an extra hour.

More later. There's always more later.

Day 67: I Meant To. Honestly.

Honesty. Honestly.

I feel like I'm losing my mind.
I feel like I'm losing.
I feel.

I'm curious. What is the first priority of living? Or, what is the first priority of your life?

Extreme Christianists would of course answer Jesus to the second question. And if they were being honest, to the first question they would answer...nothing. Why? Because they can't be honest. Their first priority is to be dishonest, because according to their holy scripture, from the beginning, they only answer questions with lies. Why? Because they know they are going to die anyways.


Lie. Like your life depended on it.

Meaningless, meaningless. Everything is meaningless.

The word of the Lord.

I meant to write. Honestly.

More later. There's always more later.

Day 66: It's Time

I'm going to be leaving the house soon. Sun is shining and bright. I need bright. Dark night. Dog barked from two. No relief in sight.

I love my mind at eleven a.m. Between heaven and hell. Oh well. A morning chardonnay is swell.

Did I misunderstand the meaning of life? Could you repeat that? I wasn't making a sleight.


I brought back the asterisk. Between the lines and lonely no more.

Keep score.

More later. There's always more later.

Day 65: No ***

The morning. The coffee. The thoughts.

My Acer laptop has the worst build quality of any laptop I've owned. The case is barely put together. Especially in the front where the ball of my hand rests. Click clack. Click clack, because the lip of the case doesn't even come together even.

Also, the volume level is the lowest I've ever seen. And no fix for it. Should've stuck with Dell. It was the best I have had. Yes I know. They get bad raps too.

The best thing that Donald Trump has done is to reveal what frauds 21st century Christians and their Christianity are. Hopefully this will be its death knell.

I still miss the girl(?) who wrote so honestly on Listed.

I hope I'm starting to pick up the slack.

You could donate (the "Thank" button above") to incentivize me to walk again. I'm not above begging I guess.

Or you could donate to show you appreciate what I'm journaling. I'm still not above begging. It doesn't feel right but at least it would push me to be here every day and to write better. Ya think?

I'm not afraid of death https://thenapkinnotes.com/8829/is-it-reasonable-to-fear-your-own-death because I discarded the notion of a hereafter and the Christian doctrine of hell-fire and brimstone and eternal torment.

Hell I'm more afraid of daily living. I'm sorry. I believe the word is dread. When you're a depressive the word of the day is dread.

I live in a county that over a third of the population lives below the poverty line. I am one of them. But I really don't feel impoverished, if impoverished means not having the latest model car, or an Amazon Echo, or being able to buy as many of the "Daily Deals" on Amazon that you need just to keep up appearances with the Joneses, or paying to have satellite tv to have a shitload of stations that you will never watch, or having the latest top of the line, trendiest kitchen appliances. (Especially like a heavy duty commercial gas stove that you can admire as you go out the door to eat). I may be impoverished according to society, but I couldn't imagine having all of those things and still be empty and unsatisfied and sad.

Still for sale...

Yes I slept with earplugs. You know. Dog barking and all. Tonight the white noise machine will have to be added.

Okay. Time for second cup of coffee. And maybe there will be...

More later. There's always more later.

Day 64: Hell Yells

I want to scream. I need to yell. Next door neighbor's dog has been barking for 6 days straight. This is my 6th year of listening to it. I live in a county that has no noise ordinances, no animal ordinances,hell, practically no ordinances at all. I've probably written about this before but it bears repeating. I truly believe people have been given permission to be complete and utter assholes by the example we have in The White House. And those of us who want to mind our own business and live in peace are not going to be allowed t. Because we will be pushed around and against. We will be disturbed and agitated. We will be schooled in tyrannical measures. We will lose.

I know you're thinking...all this because of a barking dog? Well anyone who has had this same experience will tell you that there's nothing worse than a continuous disturbing of your peace by someone's animal that they don't deserve to own. It gets into your head.

Enough said.

I'm going to get ahead of everyone. The Word of the Year for 2019 will be...fucking. No contest. No fucking contest.

... Yes. I love me some asterisks. F*ckin' A.

If I don't walk, the demons will devour me. They're waiting as I sit. The walker needs to walk because hell yells.

More later. There's always more later.