Fear, death of fear, fear of dying. Death has been all around me, and yet, I’m still here. I’m getting accustomed to not walking through the valley of scriptural solace – Ginsberg, Rumi, Solanas, amen. I never did like Valerie, which according to shadow law, means I always liked Valerie, even though she probably would have shipped me off as a work slave to a so-called feminist paradise in Utah or Queens. My life has been full of contradictions – mixed-race urban hippie redneck black power force multiplier. Intersexed, gender transitioned femme dyke. Recovering twink wannabe that never fit into gay culture, now I know why, don’t expect me on the talk show circuit any time soon. Public intellectual and somewhat-former performance artist turned page poet and featured guest on the talking head segment of the Burn to Build channel (now on Situationist Channel i). Anarcho-socialist, nature-loving collectivist-industrialist. Tech-head intergenerational unionist. On and on. INFP and ENTJ personalities inside one hybridized body – one for everyday life, the other for threats and conflict. The mere act of existence is full of numinousity. Whitman looms large, multitudes at the checkout line of everyday life.