“What the bourgeoisie therefore produces, above all, are its own grave-diggers.”—Karl Marx
gregory_a_k » Page 'Overdue'


Been overdue for some writing. I’ve been in another holding pattern, waiting for a couple things of major importance to my ongoing life that are dragging on for years – and there is next to nothing I can do to control or influence that situation (that I’m aware of…).

Feels like having a criminal case or being on paper (parole, probation, pretrial release) where I cannot make major decisions until these things are resolved. 

So I’ve kept on fighting, especially around solitary confinement. Though I have definitely stepped back from the level of being in the middle of and organizing so much shit like I used to.

I’m 39. I’ve done a fairly significant amount of shit in my life, particularly post-prison. Lots of ups and downs living with the aftermath of growing up in prison and solitary confinement particularly. Spent most of the last 10 years disregarding my own personal issues and situation to throw myself into the struggle against mass incarceration etc, went back to jail as a political prisoner, spent two weeks on hunger strike in Cook County Jail in solidarity with the California prison hunger strike in 2013 (as well as Guantanamo brothers on hunger strike. Organized demos and talks and panels and videos, faced down SWAT teams with assault rifles and tear gas in the streets of Ferguson, spoken in universities and high schools. Still so much to be done.

But I barely survive from day to day. I have no clue how to meet someone for a “romantic relationship” – though I seem to have better luck in that department in Tokyo, since I had 2 dates in the 2 weeks I was there last time… I don’t know how to go though a day without multiple triggers putting me back into prison, almost all of my references are from growing up in prison.

But I’m still standing. Still fighting. Still breathing.

Trying to figure out how to live and enjoy life in this despicable apartheid police state. How to go one day without remembering the days on end I spent in solitary. I find little that frightens me, but the prospect of trying to be vulnerable to love and touch, though I can never seem to make those connections anyway.

By yeah. I’ll go on finding my way to fight. Finding my way to live. Finding my way to shed a tear for the unlived life I’ll never experience. 

It gets tiring. I’m not interested in being 40. Been dreading this confrontation for a while.

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