Jump Off Black Ledge And Get Back To Jesus

Jump off Black Ledge and back to Jesus.


Racist black jokes at breakfast table

i had to laugh bc it was more of a reserved person becoming giggly and surprising themself, uncontrollably, it was also one innocent comment from me, perhaps triggered much comradery from the other person than it warranted, it was a signal for them to unleash. 

and, it was the voice of a generation, a helpless time capsule buried in the ground, uncorking its old


plus, how do you really know when someone is racist? what if its just a funny joke? dead baby jokes are hysterical. it doesn;t mean I don't want baby's to not vote anymore. 

why is it always blacks we attack though?

I mean the japanese put a pearl necklace of bombs on our harbor

the germans killed 6 million jews

the muslims flew our planes into the Twin Tower heads

but we continue most racism against blacks

who fought next to us in our wars

who gave us the best music, best jokes, best food, best dance, best sports

who worked their asses off for us built our country and roads and farms, much for free? but they can't be free?


When you live in the city for a few years, coming home to a hike in the woods is very strange, people are like exotic beings. You see people in Boston and NY, but its almost never a familiar face. It becomes more a wallpaper of your environment. Like a background of loud trees swaying in a subway pole. You get home and hikers in the woods are like colorful neon space people. Black goggles and moon boots, Waldo decked out.


Wealthy people and wealthy adults must have a lot more fun in the winter. Better equipped. prob look forward to it. They got all their gear and Snowmobiles and skiing, and snowboarding, and snow shooing, snow shooting. propane fireplaces and plenty of heat in their home. Shit, when winter time hits/ comes around for us were like "whelp, can't pan handle anyone" busking and street art, I gotta look for a fucking job again. (I'm not gonna sing in a blizzard like a little a fuckin frozen metal music box in a snow globe. He's not gonna carve an igloo out of the sidewalk and sell wet paintings from his little fuckin mouse crack). Pan handle? I don't even have any pans and the pans i do have don't have any handles. i keep cutting my hand on the can and have to grab the burnt venison with antlers.  the plans that i do have are sham,  wake up, meet women, take off their sandals. the banana peel construction worker hit the wire with a jackhammer, the whole buildings down, the sun passed out at noon and we don't have any candles.

 NEXT year i'm gonna figure out a way to panhandle in the winter. keep summer alive. set up a plywood snow ball toss and people are gonna pay a dollar to hit it. Or i'll be a clown on a button activating seat that falls out and when you hit the target with your snow ball I fall onto thin ice. whatever happened to a good old fashioned passionate snow ball fight? rockwell painted these sort of things. now its a felony. it should be a sport. instead of turning on my TV and seeing Wipeout and trampoline basketball, vaseline bobsledding and 'crying figure' skating olympics I wana see Olympic snow ball fights. Two teams. Atheletic people. slam into a slim jim. bean bags of snow. Hand selected gladiators across the world. Two sides. More points for head shots. Schools should have snowball leagues. Towns should have mens league snow balling.

Cops would have snow ball cannons.

That'd be my kind of winter. 

But……Instead we got crampons. 

You know, These guys that don't just wear the crampons. but they got the tight black crampon race pants. the racing shirt.  the crampon beanie, the racing sun glasses, the camp on gloves, a vest with their name and race number on it, carbon fiber poles. Dude, you're walking in the woods. Its march. 

We walk down the trail in work boots and paint covered jeans,  smoking a bowl, talking about how the trees look like they're having sex with each other, throwing snow balls for the dog and jumping off the hill in search for common mullein. We back track. We notice our feet are leaving huge potholes in what was once a nicely smoothed and patted and cramped path. "Crampers only" they will soon say. New signs will read "Cramping strictly enforced". Crampers will complain to the town. Some may picket. "Our paths are being ruined by non crampers. WE believe in no impact snow laws. Cramping only". Some one will see my father at a restaurant and say "Mr Treat, can I speak to you a minute. I didn;t wana say anything because i don't like to be a taddle tail but"…and the music goes to suspense and they tremble "I saw your son and his friend hiking on the trail and they….I can't say it….they weren't wearing crampons. Uh, you know I wasn't gonna mention it but ya know…..this is a neighborhood"

So they goto the town clerk. Building inspector. And he's an absolutely massssssiiiiiiivee… proponent of crampons. I'm I've actually never met someone who is sucha huuuuuuge maaasssssively laaaaaaarge proponent of ice shoes. He has one of the bigggggggest (put ur arms out to show size) cases for why crampons should be mandatory. 


We walked by a black family and they were moon walking across the snow

like it wasn't there, with cereal box crampons

one guy actually had a buncha Tampax tampons taped together 

and was doing great.

on the snow and financially, he was selling them. road side

So, we confided and compromised and we gave in

we're not hippies, or hipsters, we're yankees, we make our own 

we got tennis rackets strapped to our air jordans

and I got really long lacrosse sticks tied to my socks

And we'll make due for a while…..

its just…

it's cramping my style




crampons and crayons and tampons and mayo, i'm not looking forward to those days of parenting and grocery shopping, unless i meet that girl funny enough, crazy enough, to have kids and raise a family with Crampons and me.  




Its just cramping my style and as much as they're mouth says smile, they're smile says it doesn't take much to please us.

So I'm just gonna jump off black ledge and get back to Jesus.