Popular Pedagogy


I don’t know these people, do you? I feel them look at me. I know they are better than me though. They live in the past unchanged, undamaged. The hopes they carry live till the image dies. They have it. Certainly, they know about soul. Not “the soul”, “soul!” Where’s the soul? Where’s the love? Like Gregory Porter said, “Langston Hughes don’t live ’round here no more”. Stokely, where you at man? Oh right. They brought you in and drove you out. Soon I’ll be gone too. While the tv laughed “What’s happening!!” Marvin was crying “What’s goin’ on?”.

Sometimes I wish I could see past the horizon during the sunset. The darkness covers all evil. The cool shade dims the light, hides the shame, closes the eyes. Hear no evil, see no evil. We all take it in. The darkness on us swallows the suffering and moves on. We move on.

What’s my inspiration? blackberries. What’s my hope? Longevity. What’s my song? Black narcissus playing at the pearly gates. The rest is dead to me, and I will bury it in time. Harsh, but I can dig it.

I was once blind for a day- my eyes swollen shut. I heard everything at once without a filter, without reference, without light. Like the internet, information was flattened, synthesized, and uniform. I lied in bed out of fear of moving. Sound was the only medium that I could attempt to translate. In the void, my awareness of self was disappearing. Every sound was approaching me, surrounding me, eating me.

Strange fruit? Not me. Oh no, thank god. We are the lucky ones.

Why I can never get rid of these cups


About a year ago I was setting up for an art show. I had soda and cups for people to enjoy while looking at the art. a few weeks after that I stumbled across the zero waste movement. I was so new to the issue of waste in the world that I was astounded. I was blown away. And I found a new need to be hyper-conscious of my spending and consumption. So I went to my house and began evaluating my habits. Then I came to these cups. They are really quite stunning. They have this sleek plastic and white strip that lines the top allowing for the most enjoyable root-beer float experience. But I realized that they are just beautiful pieces of garbage waiting to be disposed of. They live to be sacrificed. after a chug from there shiny vessel they are then sent to the no place of empty solo cups. They are either left in heeping alters to spend the rest of their long long life, or they will be burnt and their fumes will travel across the atmosphere. They had no chance in this world to do anything but destroy and be destroyed.

Black Criticism and the growing need for it


I was recently in my philosophy class thinking about the role of multiple perspectives in learning. I am almost four-fifths of the way through the semester and in my introduction to philosophy course we have not named a single person of color. From Aquinas, Descartes, Hobbes, it all played the picture of a reality framed through the lease of people who are not like. I do study them with appreciation no doubt to their additions to educational rigor and scrutiny but I wonder how they continue to affect me in all of my interactions. I wondered if being told that If we are truly self-interested we would be moral was negatively affecting how I approached the world. But I find that maybe that’s because for the majority culture being self-interested has usually paid off. This series will be a grouping of my colloquial thoughts about culture. For good and bad this will be the platform for my always undereducated opinion.