mattysadman788

[mattysadman788]

None of My Business

Six hours after

All of us had grown tired,

Retired to soundproof hospital bedrooms.

In these wee hours, it strikes him;

With his coffee tears

In the naked night.

He switches on his electric mask;

His curly hair lightly bends in the breeze as he

Straps it to

His skull;

Sitting at the edge of his king-size bed,

With Kitty and the vacant area his slave had left behind

[mattysadman788]

“THIS EMPATHY IS POISONED!” Monsieur entertains the baby-oysters; Until one day deposited on the killing floor. It matters not that His disposition seals fate every which way and exposes all who brush him. Rejoice! His role is as destined as death. It’s all up to him! (I mean, a finale is never probable BUT plausible, I suppose) Monsieur pursues his skin-suit before it gets away in the wind, he will dress it after a vigorous shower. He eliminated his soul, Preaching hate, keeping all the love for himself; Monsieur often felt starved. We keep laughing and he mistakes it for acceptance. We laugh, but not with him, His useless rhetoric fungus would swallow us if we allowed it. Everything, he was given; and a lack of known deformities left no limit to his potential; And he made a million moves INDEED, but somehow his sunken eyes only ever concluded in folly. Monsieur entertains the baby-oysters, believing sincerely in his entitlement to suck out their insides. His innocence is not dead but silenced; He hasn’t any mercy nor pity. Many pray for his failing, ignorant that he has not ever even once won anything of true value or merit. He feeds us stale statements and we eat them up. What do YOU need Monsieur? I will gladly serve you and serve shame to the others up against the wall. KILL ME… if it serves you; Put ME down, MY FACE to the killing floor. I will gladly serve shame to the others up against the wall. Please TAKE ME DOWN… if it serves you, I long for your betterment. We will serve him, restraining all opposition. (‘Not like we got much of a choice; Our ignorance, an appendage invisible to us.) Even as he will die, he will reminisce about us; We, whom he ate and shat. We will gather into a heap, and toot his horn song but he will have abandoned his shat long ago. Monsieur had thought he had landed where it was that he ought to be, the lack of visitors puzzled him. “Where is everybody?”, he asked the walls. He never knew why he was hated and he owes that to the hired help. How can any man be expected to pay wages for genuine ignorance? Pay for the malice that his naivete resembled? THEIR malice which his naivete had spawned? Sigh, there were so very many things and items to hate about this man, this politician. Most of us want love of some form, MONSIEUR. . . HE has no interest, which makes him beautiful, IGNORANT. (Or is it IGNORANT, beautiful?!)

[mattysadman788]

Catanzano Fiction Podcast- September 2nd- RAJ JAMES, Pt. 4

[mattysadman788]

Catanzano Fiction Podcast- September 2nd- RAJ JAMES, Pt. 3- Why Not be the Devil?

[mattysadman788]

Catanzano Fiction Podcast- September 2nd- RAJ JAMES, Pt. 2- Why Not Be The Devil?

[mattysadman788]

Catanzano Fiction Podcast- September 2nd- RAJ JAMES- Your Bathroom, My Crypt

[mattysadman788]

Nearly every scene was brilliantly written and acted. I thought the standout performances were Timothy Spall, Steve Carell, Jason Schwartzman, Patricia Arquette, and the final scene was outstanding for the acting, I am not familiar with those two actors. EDIT: AND Kristen Stewart, I didn’t even recognize her. 7/10

[mattysadman788]

Eli Roth presents CHAINSAW

[mattysadman788]

Leonard

[mattysadman788]

Man on the Side by Matthew Catanzano

“I hate it but…

I have to lie sometimes…

I don’t have to be greedy but…

You see, I’ve always been open to suggestion.

I am touched by every story;

                                               though…

I know I’ve told a few whoppers myself!

I WOULD readily offer myself to their

    Peculiarity, though I often feign indifference.

I gave you two cigarettes and a light (which I later in the day mistakenly accused you of stealing)

when you asked me for $4 to stay at the Mission.

I later passed you (though you made yourself scarce)

on my way to buy a beer when the inconspicuous method was unavailable because of a temporary I.D. The beer costed $3.99.

——

The excuses: Oh God, there are so many reasons…

I didn’t want to take my money out in front of you; I also don’t like to carry too much, its true enough; but I had his $4 and then some.

After I had given the cigs, I started to realize that at the very least it wasn’t what you needed.

WHEN YOU DOUBLE-GIVE, THEY GO FOR THE THROAT!

Not really. Its a bunch of bullshit.

I’m afraid of feeling vulnerable and so I became not only a hypocrisy, but a hindrance.

Instead of being invulnerable for others,

I should have tried being weak

With them.

Hell no, I don’t want to go to the Mission. Hell no, you don’t need a fucking cigarette or a beer at the bar. Piss on me.

I’m having a pretty good day;

BUT FUCK IT.”

[mattysadman788]

I will try these things. There is so much I have to tell and to offer to the mental health community. It would take paragraphs to even get started. Thusly, why I chose to be a writer, and I still haven’t even scratched the surface of the great steaming tale I have lived through.

Here is a self-advocate’s advice for others who want to get involved in telling Congress #HandsOff important programs

[mattysadman788]

None but the guilty or the hated.

Who deserves innocence by Robin Wyatt Dunn

Who deserves innocence: this horrifying American creature? Who wanted it more, the people who designed it or the people for whom it was designed? What more awful god can be imagined than innocence? Moloch and Saturn, their mouths overflowing with children’s hands and legs, are by comparison the greatest of friends: downright instructional. Teachers. Who in America decided on innocence? Who decided on this horrible curse? Our greatest writers these celebrants of innocence: Walt Whitman, Philip Roth, even Burroughs. Great innocents. What horror must have come to them? Awake or sleeping? Even so, we must see it as a deliberate choice. The desire for ignorance. The eager lobotomy. What can we say to them? What possible helping hand could save them?

[mattysadman788]

– Jamie Wyeth, Other Voices (1995)