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More Me

Today, more red, my living testament to the world and to my mortal body.

Each day, plain and alone.  Today, I am alone, like yesterday, and the day before, and every day before that.  No one will acknowledge me truly, except my beautiful dog, and no one will listen.  When I write, it's to myself.  I eat alone, I watch the game alone, I laugh alone, and I play alone.

I scheme to myself and brood to myself; I recount my own conquests and recall moments in time as a young boy in the park and at the grocery store, alone as I had ever been.  Do you want to know who is really, truly disadvantaged and under-served in this life?  Me.  I know because I try harder than anyone else in the world, and you ignore me.  I am blacker than the darkest, most primitive and secluded tribe in the African Savannah – we need internet here too.  I'm disabled, like a true and actual mute.  I am hateful like Ted Bundy, except there is more resentment in this world than he could have ever known.

Today I am announcing the Cako Preservation Institute, meant to offer stewardship and raise awareness for me.  It's quite simple, you can donate money or raise awareness for me through canvassing, social media campaigns, events, and more.  You can invite me, but you probably won't, because I am not like you.

I'm grateful that you have friends, because you can tell them about me.  I'm grateful, too, for the quiet, because it is the best thing about being alone.

Sir Facebook and His Self Rising Flour
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