The Art of the Award Winning Poet Igor Goldkind

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FACING the WAVES


ORDER: FACING the WAVES: Transforming Political Chaos With Art

The project is scheduled for release this MAY. It includes a deluxe limited edition hardcover. There is also a 14-track album featuring original music and spoken word. Additionally, there is a signed limited art print of the cover illustration by renowned Scandinavian surrealist painter Katarina Anderssen.

FACING the WAVES
Jazz Composing Genius Gilad Atzmon at Plato’s Academy, Athens
Rumi’s Mirror by Igor Goldkind & Gilad Atzmon

PRE-ORDER NOW BEFORE TRUMP IMPOSES A TARIFF ON ART ! ! !

The Wolves Amongst Us, From the Album FACING the WAVES.

All music composed and performed by Gilad Atzmon

Words Composed by Igor Goldkind

All work is Copyright 2025, Igor Goldkind, Katarian Andersson and Gilad Atzmon

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Thank you for your response. ✨

 


My Howl is My Prayer

An incantation for Allen Ginsberg

The moon before the Ginsberg morning.
Negro skies before a christian dawn
My voice itches for cigarettes and Tibetan hymns.
I want the circuit of Blake, Whitman, Ginsberg and Dylan
To course through my limbs

Electrocuting my fears and lame desires for acceptance.
I want to feel holier than a cantor
Or a Muslim call to prayer.
I want fuzzy peaches where my balls are
And a giant fist of a cock thrusting upwards

Between my legs I will
infiltrate the dreams of daytime sleepwalkers
With hummingbird vibrations
Of sound, soul and spirit.

I will wait to grab a discount Lyft
Neal will be at the crazy wheel
And no fucking GPS
For Moloch to deviate our destination
From paradise
To damnation.

The Naked Allen Ginsberg in Morocco image that will ironically get me banned on 2025 social media. Nothing has changed from 1955, same censorship same McCarthyites


HONEST QUESTIONS DESERVE HONEST ANSWERS

QUESTION:

“Igor, Why are you smoking and drinking your self to death?
Smoking, if you don’t inhale cigars, can still give you bladder cancer. Tell tale signs are blood in your urine, often after about forty years of smoking.”

Writes Michael Brett 

michael, thanks for expressing your concern and I will answer your question as thoroughly and honestly as I can.


Well, for one thing, I don’t have blood in my urine.  Every body is different and reacts differently to different things.  For example, my body does not respond well to cannabis although people are constantly praising its health virtues and persuading me to replace it for my consumption of alcohol and tobacco.

Maybe it works for them but not for me.  I used to smoke cannabis, a lot of it. But if I smoke even a hit now, I lose focus for days. I become lethargic. I feel demotivated and lack self certainty.

I smoke strong chemical free cigarettes and high end Cuban cigars for. one main reason: The nicotine increases my focus. It also relieves the stress of coping with the seemingly endless stream of idiocies and obstacles that people and their bureaucracies hurl at me.  If human beings weren’t so maliciously stupid, needlessly cruel, deliberately ignorant and undermining, I probably wouldn’t smoke at all!

Likewise alcohol, I now drink nearly every day, but only after I’ve finished working, so around 5 or 6 pm.  I start work at 5-6 am each and every morning. 7 days a week. God took Sunday off which explains why the world is broken. Repairing the world is a 7/7 day a week vocation.

I drink only the best wine, tequila I can afford and only when I’m in Britain or Germany do I drink beer.  British real ale and German Pilsners are living nutrients; unpasteurized and nourishing to the body as much as the soul.

I drink exceedingly but seldom get drunk and even more rarely suffer hangovers.  The latter is down to the premium quality of the alcohol I consume.  All natural, no additives.  And yes, more expensive.

I drink for two equally valid reasons:

1.  I’m in pretty constant pain in my extremities, mainly my legs and mainly my right leg.  I was diagnosed with lymphedema last October. The American medical system has failed miserably in getting me even a lymphedema specialist. It also hasn’t provided a proper treatment for my condition. Nor even effective pain relief.

American medicine is only about money and the doctors, nurses and health practitioners care about little else than you insurance coverage.  It is a disgusting, mercenary, greed-fueled system that should be scorch-earth, burnt to the ground and built from scratch based on a nationalized health model.

But money breeds greed which necessarily breeds incompetence.  Beware getting ill or needing any kind of mental or physical health help in America.

You won’t get it unless you’re rich and even then, there’s no guarantees when it comes to American health care,  None at all!

So I drink as much as I do as a means of self medication.  When I find decent medical treatment for my condition in Europe, I will probably reduce, but not eliminate my alcohol intake.

In spite of my excessive drinking and smoking, my last physical in November, 2024 was according to my nurse practitioner, a  4 star ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️ ⭐️  result!

Blood, urine, stool test all came up trumps (and I don’t  mean Dumb-Hitler).  Blood pressure a little elevated but within normal parameters, cholesterol down, liver super fit, lung capacity excellent, could lose about 15 pounds of excess wait but I apparently have the body of a 35 year old.

That’s what having the right genes from a mixed racial parentage and  background gets you!

2.  The second equally valid reason I have for drinking in excess is that I’m lonely.  My last girlfriend, a Mexican beauty and mother of 2 from Jalisco dumped me because I wasn’t rich and had no intention of getting rich. We were still trying to be friends but I think she more recently decided that the time she spent with me was time she was losing finding a millionaire. She’s not greedy as she’s looking for a millionaire not a billionaire. But as with everything in America, money lies coiled at the roots of all value, even Love.

I am desperate for feminine companionship.  Not overtly, but inwardly desperate. I prefer the company of women to men.  I think that women in general, are better human beings than men are. I was raised by a strong, intelligent and independent mother and I am passionately attracted to the same type.  

I loved my baby sister, Natasha, now deceased, am on warm speaking terms with my ex wife and love my 25 year old daughter Olivia, more than my own life.

I treat women with respect, with consideration, with affection and when they are open to it, passion.

However, this has proved  no formula for success.

This is partly due to culture and geography.  Being trapped in Southern California for the past 8 years has been an emotional and sexual nightmare.

California women are by nature, defensive, suspicious to the point of paranoia (much of which is justified, considering mentality of Californian men!), spiteful, callous, cruel and rarely know what they want romantically, socially and most certainly sexually.

It is akin to a pandemic level neurosis.  I’m sure it is caused by the dominance of excessive consumption capitalism.  America is a Nation run amok with Hungry Ghosts wandering aimlessly in constant hunger for commodities that never satisfy. So that the sad ghosts are compelled to consume more and more and more.  As well as waste resources, energy and everything around them; including other people and even themselves.

I detect this neurosis most in women, because I am not physically attracted to men and therefore expose my self to more slings and arrows of overpriced fortune from women. Beautiful women; inwardly and outwardly. I say this because what underlines all the female Hungry Ghosts is money.  An insatiable desire for money and the companionship of men who can provide it.

My experience and impression is that without money, the Californian branch of the human tree would wither and die from lack of procreation.

I’m not calling Californian women prostitutes.  No, they’re far worse than that: they only give of themselves, their love, their affection, their emotional investment to the IMPRESSION of wealth and money.

Actual prostitutes are more transactional.  California women are constantly playing games, with themselves as much as others.  They live in a cacophony of mixed messages, confusion, self-loathing and  passive aggressive spite.  

Many appear to both fear and despise men at the same time. But rather than just leave us alone, they like to play cat and mouse games of allure and refusal as a means of compensating for a sublimated sense of power.

I am not the only man who thinks and feels this; btw, before you start hurling more misogyny cards in my hat.  Men, especially foreign born men, confess the exact same conclusions about Californian women when there aren’t any women around to overhear.

Even feminist women, who I admire and prefer, have great difficulties expressing what they want and Don’t want from a man.  There’s deep insecurity at the heart of the west coast female that more often than not, manifests as passive aggression and occasional overt aggression.

For evidence of this just read the comments from women that will inevitably follow in reaction to this post.

I will find a lover eventually, if not a partner, somewhere in Europe or possibly north Africa, soon enough.  Of that I have no lack of self certainty!  I was happily married to an English woman for some 18 years.  

I have a great deal to offer the “right” woman: intellect, humor, tenderness, insight and genuine affection. I have never been told that I am other than a passionate and satisfying love who gives more than he takes. Whose greatest pleasure is to give pleasure to the point of repeated climax. I am a gourmet chef for whom the greatest act of love (apart from the very act of love) is to cook a favourite meal for a friend for my family, for my lover.

I am very industrious, ambitious and am well on my way to making my career as that of a best selling author and successful poet.

But most of all I am kind.

I do not suffer fools gladly and I state the truth no matter how critical the truth is or how easily offended the recipient.

I feed and house the homeless when I can. I enjoy talking to young people both young men and young women who I speak the truth to regardless of what their elders or authorities think.

I am a critical thinker in the tradition and spirit of Socrates.

I question authority.

ALL authority.

I try my best to alleviate the suffering of others.

I regularly meditate.

I adore the arts and all forms of music (apart from breakfast cereal jingles).

I am the best Poet I have ever been in my life and my life is far from over!

I have very close ‘girlfriends’ and “admirers” in Holland, the UK, France and Algeria.  Some are with partners and therefore our relations are Platonic for the time being.  Others have issues of faith that prevent them from acting on their attractions and some. I just haven’t met…yet.

But I am actively looking, just not in California or the US, ever again.  So for both health and romantic reasons, to quote Robert Hunter “I’m going where the weather suits my clothes”!

Thank you and goodnight!


Masturbation is No Sin

Masturbation is no  sin
In fact, it’s the most marvelous thing
It will ease your stress
Fulfill your life
There is no need to sacrifice

What every body finds so nice

Masturbation is no sin
it makes our lives worth living in
It shines you hair cure your stutter
It makes you feel like no other
Person in the world can harm you now
When you stroke yourself so close and tender.

Masturbation is n
o sin
Pay no heed to those who say other
For  they would pervert  both nature and each other.
Maturbation is no sin
In fact it makes our lives worth living in.


Any time of day of night
Is just as right for loving your self like another
Do not worry about  the mess you’ll leave
Tissues and towels suffice, I believe.
There is no shame in loving who you are 

Or touching your self like a falling star

After all we are all who we are
And loving one self is the start of loving  each other from afar
Masturbation is nothing
In fact it is the most marvelous sin.

Now, touch yourself in loving pride!
For you are the center of all you abide.



Pre-Order FACING the WAVES: Art & Music Edition by Award Winning Poet Igor Goldkind

FACING the WAVES

The Mass market digital edition is out in April, but I’m only signing the $54.95 limited edition. $34.95 for the cheap, print on demand edition out in April, 2025

Original cover by Norwegian Surrealist Painter

Katarina Anderssen

(Also available as a fine art print, signed and numbered by Katarina )

Original music and spoken word album composed by the magnificent Israeli Jazz composer Gilad Atzmon available in March for download, CD and Vinyl entitled The Broken Star, a musical and poetic indictment of the current state of Israel.

Album cover design by the designer, illustrator, comics artist, visual god Dave McKean. (Arkham Asylum, Sandman, Cages).

International signing and performance tour of Spoken Word and Live Music coming in the Spring of ’25

This is Art.
Sample the Stone Soup:

Rumi’s Mirror
the reflection of a reflection is your reflection.
upon the mirrored surface of a pool,
that is being slowly filled
by the very source of the life
you reflect upon

Now jump in the pool!

Music by Gilad Atzmon Digital Graphics by Mayssan

Modern Haiku
A boy goes to school
And tears his schoolmates apart
With metal piercing bullets.

This is normal now.

Facing the Waves
Waves are your faces
Crashing in real time,
Raising the tide
Against your complacent shore.

Waves are your faces
Curved towards you:
White-bearded men,
Relentlessly knocking on your front door

Reality, an unknown intruder
Upon your inner core,
Beats rhythmically, poetically,
Drowning you in what you do not know.

Waves are your faces
Melting into one and the other;
Beating, imploring you,
To open your locked front door

Waves are your faces
Beating on your front door
Eroding your discomforts
Seeking to drown your inner core.

Beating senselessly, endlessly
Against locked doors,
Waves are abandoned faces
Beating on your front door.

(Email info@themissionarts.com
To be added to our pre-order list.
order in January for a 99.50% discount!!)
Look for it sweetheart, you ain’t seen anything like this before!

(Email: igor@themissionarts.com
To be added to our pre-order list order in January 2025 for a 99.50% discount!!)
Hey, No one does math the way we do!


The Poverty of American Arts: The Main Threat to American Mental Health

I have only had two editors in my life. One was the now deceased artist Eleanor Brooks. She was the widow of the great novelist Jeremy Brooks, and a friend of Ken Kesey’s and Robert Stone. Eleanor was a British Beatnik, an official Friend of Wales, and a former Duchess of Gloucester. She renounced her title and seat in the House of Lords to marry Jeremy, a commoner.

The other and now my current editor is Dr. Miles Krogfus. He won first place in a national poetry competition back in the 1950s. This achievement paid for his entire university education. AND his PHd in Yeats, an the Romantics. At 83, he can detect the Classical within the contemporary. He keeps my poetry disciplined within the legacy and structures of poetics.

Part of The Mission is to publish the monthly Mission. My newly incorporated company will include comics, poetry, prose, and art. Mile’s work will feature in it and then after a year, we will publish a book of his poetry.

Not for his sake or mine.
For the sake of the American people. This is especially true for Americans under the age of 30. They have been denied the richness of art and culture. They continue to be denied access. Art and culture are how any civilized society tends to its emotional and psychological challenges.

I am utterly certain that many Americans are mentally ill due to poverty in arts and culture. Some are lethally so. This society has ultimately commodified arts and culture into extinction.

It is difficult to pursue a career as an artist anywhere. However, it is next to impossible in America. It didn’t always used to be this way. It’s a change I’ve seen happen slowly, really just in the last 40 years. The only socially acceptable vocation in America today are institutional ones or corporate jobs. Or science, engineering and technology. because we value our tools more than we do our fellow human beings.

We treat dogs like people and people like dogs in America.

Anything else is derided as “not a real job”. With the rare exception of musicians and recording artists who are viewed as potentially money-spinning. Painters and writers and sculptors are treated like complete shit. We are advised to stop practicing our craft. Instead, we should get jobs loading paper bags at Trader Joe’s for rich hippie vegan scum.

Once when I was being processed after being arrested in San Diego for one of my many nefarious crimes (I will die before I tell them where I buried the 4th body!), I was at the booking desk and I was being asked what profession I claimed, I said “Poet” and the desk sergeant guffawed, laughed loudly and turned to the other deputy as they both belly laughed.

THAT is what Americans think of and how they treat the arts in this tragic land.

All to the detriment of the mental health and well being of our society. Yes, the word ‘Society’ does actually refer to a real thing, you just can’t buy much of it.

The last time America had an arts-based culture that pervaded society was from the late 1950s until the dawn of the 80s. This culture was admired and emulated by other cultures far and wide. Whats loosely referred to as the 60s. Nobel Prize Winning Poet Bob Dylan completely revolutionized the music industry with his songs and music. He turned the Beatles onto LSD, and we all know where that led: cultural, spiritual, and social Revolution!

Ken Kesey wrote Sometimes a Great Notion and then Cuckoo’s Nest, was experimented on by the US military with LSD and decided that not only did he like it, he would give it to everyone else!

And the Merry Pranksters and the Grateful Dead were born, Giants of cultural upheavel and enduring art. Yes, I’m saying that Jerry Garcia wasn’t just a great guitarist like Jimi Hendrix. (Another America icon to the arts, our “Mozart” of the electric guitar.). He was an artist plain and simple. He intuitively grasped the dream nature of art, how to embrace chaos and allow the growth of form to emerge out of content. There was nobody ever like his band The Grateful Dead and there will never be another like them.

Jerry Garcia was a Boddhisatava who changed the lives, improved the lives, alleviated the suffering of millions upon millions of people. For which he took no credit or accolade because he knew that it wasn’t him,, he had no ego, he was just Jerry doing what Jerry wanted to do.

Because “if you’re not having fun doing what you’re doing, you’re not doing it right!”

Jerry Garcia and Ken Kesey were artists using humanity and the people as their canvass. They improved people’s lives, period!

Ornette Coleman, John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Ton Carter, Sonny Rollins, Lee Morgan, Anthony Braxton (and too many more black musicians to list here), took the suffering and political humiliation of the African American people, absorbed it deep within their soul and then produced something more beautiful, more African American, more valuable than all the suffering of all their generations had endured could quell: Modern Jazz. The only uniquely indigenous American cultural product, ever. And it was our underclass, our N**g**s that produced it, that created our cultural heritage

White folk produced it and took most of the money and sometimes, on occasion aligned with it in emulation and imitation. But it was black people, African Americans who created it, from the blood and sweat of their masters lashes, the only lasting cultural worth America has every produced.

The Blues and Jazz will endure all of us for the next 2 thousand years. If humanity still exists in 2 thousand years, you can be certain. They will be listening to Jazz. Maybe ‘their’ Jazz, but they wouldn’t be listening to anything without the creative fountain of the African American artist.

Andy Warhol, Georgia O’Keefe, Jackson Pollock, (and please list painters that changed your life in the comments) didn’t just create visual art that sold for high prices. They changed the way people SEE and think about art. Consequently, they altered the way people viewed their lives as they are living.

Charles Olsen, Alen Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, Walt Whitman, Eugene O’Neil. John Reed, Dashiell Hammett, Raymond Carver, Carolyn Forche, Jack Kerouac. Lillian Hellman, Shirley Jackson, Dorothy Parker, Gertrude Stein, Bessie Smith. Billy Holiday, Lenny Bruce etc. etc. etc.

These were all writers and artists creating the raw material that makes up our soul. They weren’t just singing songs or spinning rhymes. They offered up, from the depth of their souls, the remedies for living. They provided the cure for our social illness! They taught us how to live better. They guided us in leading more rewarding lives. They helped us overcome the slings and arrows of our outrageously over-priced fortunes.

They were and still are our shamans. They are our urban witch doctors, our counsellors, and our therapists. Without them, without more generations of artists, we are all going to languish. We will whimper and suffer in our straitjackets, in one big WHITE lunatic asylum. It is ruled by the insanest WHITE king of them all: mad Donald Trump.

Today “art education” consists of “you better pick up a skill you can fall back on”. It has taken me 40 years of hard graft. Daily work, rejection, and overcoming rejection have brought me to this point. Now, I can look the cop in the eye. I can proudly say, “yes, I’m a poet, I’m an artist. You gotta problem wid dat”?

These days I mainly talk to young people, meaning people younger than me.
Guys and gals, working odd jobs, standing outside of restaurants barking customers. Because San Diego is so fucked up, the management gets weird when I talk to young women my daughter’s age. People give me hostile looks. I’m asked not to return to the establishment to spend my money.
Generational isolationism is a real social problem in San Diego. But I don’t give a shit, I’ll talk to whomever, whenever I want regardless of their age or mine. Unless they don’t want to talk to me and then I apologize and go away. But young people need their elders to give a shit about them, to talk to them to ask them what’s on their minds.

That is how a civilized, healthy society functions. You go to any other developed nation in the world. You’ll find ancient town centers in England, France, Spain, Italy, and Greece. In these places, the neighborhood’s children run free. Their parents sit at outdoor cafes or at tables or around fountains gossiping away. The children run free, feeling both free and safe. They know, without even being conscious of it, that they are the village’s children. They belong to the community, and the community will care for and protect them.

Socialist? You’re damn right that’s socialist. It is much better and healthier than the fear and paranoia that dominates current American parenting. Our teachers are prison guards. Our parents are overworked overlords. Our police are soldiers. They view every citizen and every member of the public as an antagonist.

How many cops does it take to change a light bulb?
None. They’d prefer to just beat up the room for being dark!

America has lost its soul along with its way.
Now it is just about the money; not even about what the money buys, just the frigging money.

When I last ran a company (or more accurately, ran after my company to make sure it didn’t go off its own rails!), I used to hire what were then a new breed of worker: the code, the computer programmer, the software developer. This was very difficult for me. Although I served my investor’s interests and followed my detailed business plan, I knew little about actually writing code. At the time, I didn’t even know how to write html. It’s not a code, but a mark-up language for the web.

So I had to hire some dozen coders very quickly to execute an array of electronic publishing projects, on CD-ROM at the time as DVDs had yet to be invented. So I interviewed everyone who came to apply for a poisition as I did with all of my staff. Anyone who ever works for me, who is paid by me, has a direct contact with me. A direct human to human connection is crucial in order to maintain a cohesive working environment. I do not delegate Human Resources. Because Humans come first, before even the money.

So I would typically take two strategies to discern whether or not I wanted someone working with me. The first was to sit in front of a screen and a keyboard with the individual and ask them to show me what they did that affected the screen,. Like I was an idiot. I called it my “Colombo” approach.

If the young candidate (typically college graduates in their early to mid 20s), balked and told me that I didn’t know enough to understand what they did; or try to waffle me with computer code jargon or resisted explaining anything to me; I would thank them for their application and say I’d be in touch.

I never was ‘in touch’.

If you can’t explain what you do to a 12 year old child, much less your potential employer, then you don’t really know what you’re doing yourself

My second approach is relevant to the point of this essay.
At the time I had secured over a million and a half £s in corporate investment. Enough to develop, produce and market an electronic publishing platform of 8 new interactive titles.
I coined the term INTERACTIVE DRAMAS to avoid the computer game association. Ironically, it was the computer Game MYST that was our great inspiration. It inspired the development of these interactive titles. I had the superb artist, designer and my aesthetic mentor Dave McKean as my nonsalaried Art Director. I also had a team of hard working, London working class designers.

They were “My Boys”. (along with a couple of girls). My Boys is my reference to Garth Ennis’s superb comics series and now Netflix series (The Boys; highly recommended if you hat super hero movies as much as I do)

So I was a happening dude in London in the early 90s. Which was a success that was all too shortlived, as all successes ultimately are. Nothing lasts forever, baby, apart from the Moon, the mountains, the ocean and the stars.

But back to the interview process relevant to my point about money and its intrinsic valueless-ness. So I had a company cheque book at the time when people still wrote cheques. My candidate would come into my office and sit in front of me and I would ask the usual questions about their backgrounds and experience. Then we’d do the computer screen test. Finally I would lean forwards and look them straight in the eyes (and smile).

“Tell me, what is it that you really want out of life, what is the real reason that you’ve applied for this job; what do you want?”
Without exception, the candidate would drop their guard and answer with one word:
“Money”

And these were British kids, mind you. Working class, self-educated or middle class college graduates. Not Americans. With Americans, its ten times worse.
Now the lesson would begin:
I would smile and say

“But of course, what would be the point of going to a job every day if you weren’t being paid. I want money,, I like what money buys me”.

The informality would open the candidate up:

“I want loads of money, I want to be rich by the time I’m 30 and I’m so good at what I do, I’m going to make that real” (or some paraphrase to that effect).
So then I would start the game. I would look seriously at the candidate and say:
“Would you consider a million pounds enough money?”
Inevitably, they would be confused by the question.
I would repeat myself while I opened my desk drawer and extracted the company cheque book.
“Would you consider a million pounds enough money to make you happy to achieve your dream?”
The answer was always the same. So I would begin to write out a cheque so that they could see my writing, for a million pound on the company cheque book, logo and all. Then I would rip the cheque out and being to hand it to the candidate.

“I’m going to give you this million pounds, it’s yours and you can call the bank right here and now to verify that the cheque’s good. It’s a real cheque for a million pounds and I’m going to give it to you, right here and right now on one condition.”

The candidate was never sure how real this game was but they knew for certain it was a real cheque; one guy actually called our bank and was told that the funds were liquid. But I wasn’t taking any pleasure in the startled eyes and nervousness of these young people. Instead I had an invaluable lesson to impart.

“One condition and the money is yours”, I repeated.
And I would hand them the cheque so that they could feel reality in their own hands.
Some would ask “What’s the catch”?
Some wouldn’t.

Then I would explain:

“You can have this cheque. You can have a million pounds on one condition. You must accompany me directly to the airport. We will go without interruptions and with no stops. At the airport, we will grab the first flight to Cairo. Once in Cairo there’s a helicopter awaiting us (there wasn’t, I lied). The helicopter journey will take some 3 or 4 hours to the heart of the Sahara (‘Sahara’ means desert, so to say Sahara desert is redundant). Once we have reached the centre of the Sahara, we will land. Or we will hover about 5 or 6 feet above the desert. You will jump a short distance. The sand will cushion your jump. And then we are going to leave you in the middle of the Sahara with your cheque but no water, no phone and at least a hundred mile walk to the nearest oasis.”

And then the punch line, which I would deliver while meeting the person’s eyes full on:

“So what is your million pounds worth to you now?”

The AHA! Moment
(the one word that Allen Ginsberg wrote on my first edition City Lights copy of Kaddish when he signed it and invited me up into his room; I didn’t go, its another story. Always been a touch homophobic)

The day to day epiphany available to all of us any time of day, “if you look at it right”.
The moment of realization of enlightenment and understanding happens when you grasp not just something new but when everything you had been thinking crumbles away. Everything that you thought to be true up to that moment crumbles away. Those scarlet begonias are a touch of the blues.

And your mind is just blown wide open to the fact that what you knew was certain wasn’t very certain at all.
You can’t hide that moment on your face.
And I knew with utter certainty that the look on my candidates face was their passing grade. If they ‘got it’ I could work with them.

I’m friends with some of my ex employees to this day and recently one of them, a girl now a woman, reached out to me to remind me of my little employment game and how it made her start to see her life in a totally different way.

I told her that no thanks were needed.
That I was just doing my job
The best way I knew how.
Thanks for reading.
Leave your comments below and I will respond.
Still human that way.




I Want to Be Your Alternative Dictator !

All Power Shall Be Mine!!!!

Ladies and Gentlemen, Boys and Girls, Socio-paths of all ages. I am proud to formally announce my candidacy for America’s Alternative Dictator. If selected by the electoral college, I promise to be a dictator from day one and forever onwards.


Here is my 35 point initial plan which I promise to enact within my first week of assuming control over the governance of this fair land.

First…


1. We will be rounding up the MAGA supporters as domestic terrorists, arrest most of the Supreme Court and declare the Republican controlled Congress and Senate to be unConstitutional.

2-3. Haven’t figured out all the foreign policy details as of yet, but there will be an immediate cessation of military aid to Israel and most of the Middle East. The Ukraine will have an expedited entry into NATO and all NATO nations will draw a line for Russia not to cross. If Putin persists NATO will invade Russia, arrest Putin and immediately hand power back to the Russian people and their duly elected officials.


4. Oh yeah, the federal government will then seize all uninhabited mansions and third homes for immediate habitation by the homeless. Owners will be compensated at a fixed national emergency housing rate.

5. The defence department will be given a 3 month time frame in which to reduce their military budgets by 33% in the first year and 66% in the two years following.

6. All health insurance companies will be nationalized and be subject to the legislative restrictions and regulation of the newly formed National Health Service. Prescription drugs will be capped at the manufacturing and distribution price with no profits to be taken.

7. All student loans will be forgiven and Universities and other institutions of higher learning will have to provide new, non profit budgets so as to rationalize entry level fees for anyone seeing higher education.

8. The newly established National Department of the Arts will be granted a 60 Billion dollar a year budget to allocate to the promotion and teaching of the arts. It will also organize state and local arts festivals for the public, free of charge. All artists, dancers, performers, writers and other expressive artists will receive negotiated salaries to produce their work full time for the benefit of the general public.

9. The NDoA will be administered from the nation’s capital which will set up State Arts Centers in every state of the union as adjunct offices within the state’s main arts museums. Contracted artists will be hired and either present projects, individually or collaboratively or be assigned to individual or collaborative projects by the state SACs. The DoA will be able to be peitioned in the case of grievances and be empowered to over rule the decisions of the local SACs.

10-11. Suicide education will be mandatory in all secondary schools. Peer to peer counselling will also be taught and meditation will replace the pledge of allegience in every school classroom in the country, every morning.

12. The national curriculum will be revised by educators and lay teachers. No parents will be permitted to participate.

13-14. All existing treaties with tribal people’s will be reinstated and the entire nation will issue a ceremonial apology to past and present indigenous Americans who will now be referred to as the First Americans. First Americans and African Americans will be entitled to special citizenship benefits including free health care for life, free higher education and access to all federal records concerning individual’s origins including records of slave purchases going as far back as historically possible.

15. African Americans and First Americans will be paid restitution as a symbolic apology for the suffering they have endured at the hands of the US government.

16. The USA will be renamed The United Peoples of America.

17. And everyone will get hot cocoa before bed time on cold evenings. Hot days, they can get chocolate milk shakes.

18. It will become a federal offence to harm, torture or brutalize animals. Hunting for food. (NOT sport) will be regulated by a government licensing bureau which will issue limited numbers of animal licence tags for hunters to kill and eat unthreatened species. But not people.

19. The work week will be reduced to a mandatory 25 hour week cap and parents will be required to spend more time with under 18 children. After 18, they can tell them to go jump in the lake.

20. The minimum wage will be increased to $45 an hour for all manual labor and reduced to no more than $100 an hour for ALL professional service providers including doctors, lawyers, plastic surgeons. All workers will be required to sign up with a union as part of their employment contract, with any union and collective bargaining will become standard labor policy.

21. All currently residing immigrants will be granted 2 year residencies in which time they are to apply for employment or petition for special consideration. During their 2 year residency they will be granted all the basic rights assigned UPA citizens, albeit for a two year period which can then be renewed upon application. The commission of crimes will disqualify the entrant from seeking renewal.

22. All UPA citizens will be encouraged to learn at least Spanish and one other language through free community colleges, libraries and ‘language centers’. Spanish will become a elementary school requirement on the curriculum plus one other elective language.

23. But not Klingon.

24. Federal legislation will require that all women be paid exactly the same as their
male counterparts.

25. Paid maternity and paternity leaves will be extended up to 12 months and further upon application and reduction of salary by 80%

26. All workplaces that employ more than 6 full time employees wil be required to provide federally subsidized day care from the first hour to the last hour of work every day of the working week, in the same building as the parents are working.

27. This will all be funded by the diversion of the military budget to public works and programs dedicated to enhancing and maintaining the public good, as detailed in the Constitution.

28. The breaking of the any amendment of the Constitution will become not just an enforced federal crime but an imprisonable crime, without exception.

29. A new federal crime of Political Corruption will be introduced to make such corruption a prisonable offence. All prisons will be nationalized and reformed by new federal standards of non punitive rehabilitation and education.

30. All police in every city and state of the UPA will be fired.

31-32. All police will all be presented with new employment contracts and not have to miss a day or work or a paycheck. However, they will have to re-qualify for their positions and in some cases take time off to finish college. The new national police contracts will be enshrined in a national data base of all law enforcement officials including military, coast guard and park ranger officers.
Criterion for requalification will include not have be a member of or ever been associated with a White Supremacist or racist club, militia or organization. Those that have will not be rehired and be dismissed. Anyone who has ever done violence to a partner or a woman will be dismissed from the force they served in and from any other police or authoritative force in the entire country.

Any officer or person in authority who has been ever accused of using excessive force or coercion against a citizen will be disqualified from reinstatement.

33-34. Any office ever accused of corruption will be disqualified from serving however they will be able to appeal to a courtroom in which they can present evidence that the charges were false and present witnesses as to their character.
All law enforcement officials will be required to submit to a mandatory psychological screening every six months and be offered free counselling if they so desire it.

35. From day one, anyone can be whatever sex or ethnicity they want to be and be legally recognized as such. I myself an African American as I can trace my genetic ancestry back to Australopitecus in Southern Africa some 200,000 years ago. Also, nobody should have the time to care what gender you dientify with, what clothes you choose to wear or who you choose to love or sleep with.

We should all have more important things to do and worry about than messing in other people’s personal lives. Anyone who worries about sexual grooming or being brainwashed about gender in schools has obviously never tried to get a ten year old to clean up their bedrooms. Get real!

I promise to be a benevolent dictator and as soon as these reforms are instituted, I will be handing over my powers to a 303 member tribunal of unpaid representatives who will serve on a rotating basis of 2 year renewable terms, with no one member serving more than 3 consecutive terms. I will hand pick my tribunal initially and then each will nominate their successor for their position at the end of their term to be voted approval on by the other 332 members.

That is all, citizens of the newly established United Peoples of America.
Well, at least the bare bones of it.
The rest I’ll cover after dinner.

So vote for me, or appoint me (it doesn’t matter which anymore, really), your alternative dictator.
You know it makes sense.

And if it doesn’t make sense now, it will make a lot more than good sense after your mandatory rehabilitation.

After the revolution we shall all eat strawberries and cream!

But what if you don’t like strawberries with cream?

After the revolution we shall all eat strawberries and cream and like it! ~Actual Bolshevik Joke


The Cultural Marxist Revolutionary Circus is Coming to YOUR Town. Resistance is Futile!

Just a quick update to tell you developing news in the world of my crusade to take over the world and change it into a world of poetry, art and aesthetic convictions. Once we have infiltrated the power structure, we will enact our cultural Marxist conspiracy by getting key political figures to at first become more concerned about the color of their hair, their wardrobe, office furishings and back ground decor during their press conferences.

This represents phase one which we call

the iron fist of Fashio-nismo.

As key political leaders become obsessed with the arrangements of flowers in their vases, the subject matter and artists of their wall hangings. Shoe color and accessories will become crucial, time consuming judgement issues.

The next phase we called Confused Identity Syndrome is when we get our targets to actually begin to question whether they truly exist, or not. Based largely on the exemplary work of our previous agents Jean-Paul Sartre, Albert Camus and Andre Breton, CIS will start with leaving copies of the Japanese Poet-Monk-Warrior Hakuin Ekakaku’s essays and aphorisms lying around on coffee tables and near water coolers within the White House, Pentagon and Congressional offices
.Poet-Zen Monk-Warrior Hakuin Ekaku, Patron Comrade of the Cultural Marxist Revolutionary Circus!

Boredom, while waiting for meetings to begin, will inevitably lead to bureaucrats and functionaries glance at the works of Hakuin and soon become immersed in a Zen literature that will render them confused and uncertain of even their own existence in reality. They will begin to doubt if anything they’ve ever known or believed to be true is in fact, real. Their sense of Self will be rendered void.
They will gasp for breath in the vacuum of their own Being!

Finally, left sprawling and crawling on carpeted floors, tears streaming down their faces, our targets will be rendered inoperative as they crawl on the floors laughing uncontrollably while muttering incoherently, ‘there is no self, there is no self, there can be no Self, there is no Self!”

This is when we may our move.

Our crack team of Ninja Seals, Jewelry Makers and Dolphins will strike from their underground locations at the very heart of the power structure. They will be armed with books and art prints, tarot decks and astrology charts, prepared to bring the new order of Poetry Workshops, Expressive Arts seminars and forced aesthetic training into play. The targets will be interrogated with impossibly vague questions for which there are no answers.

The questioning itself will be the answer.

Targets will be constrained and forced to watch reruns of Gilligan’s Island and My Mother the Car. William Burroughs reading his work in an endless, monotonous, tape loop will become our background training will sound, never ending day in day out.

Poetry will be read to them over and over and over again until they shriek, beg for mercy and break down. We will show no mercy. What does not kill us makes us strong.

When they are broken we will rebuild them into better beings. Mainly with water color, clay sculpture and improv classes. They will please for mercy (or death), at first but then thanks to us, once the Macrame and knitting regimes are introduced, they will become pacified.

We will force them to wear outlandish fashion trends, force the men to dress in drag and wear makeup (which we will teach them how to apply), and make the women dress in appropriate formal evening and day casual wear that does not accent their breasts or rear ends. Girls will be taught how to run not like a girl, but like a human being. Boys will be taught how to cry in public, or else!

Finally the once effective political operatives, business lobbyists, generals and high placed bureaucrats will be assigned new roles as poets, philosophers, tarot card readers, astrologers, day care workers and after school program directors.

Once the revolution is achieved, peace will return to our nation and to all nations. The earth will resume its spin and stars will fill the sky in splendor and celebration at the return of the human species to its natural sanity. 🤩🥳🤪😍😁😁

May SHE (who is not perfect but tries very hard indeed and deserves a thank you card now and again), look down on us from her cosmic kitchen table and bless us with the good fortune to overcome our enemies.

I submit to you, my dear comrades and circus clowns, our plan.

Choose which side of the barricades you will be on.

Pack up your water color brushes and acrylics and tarot decks and prepare for Revolution!

btw, I’m shutting down my X (Twit) account because Elon Mollusk is a traitor to America, an Afrikaner racist and an enabler of fascism. But I don’t like what he looks like either and he fucked Amber when Johnny Depp was filming, so fuck him!
Find me: https://mastodon.social/invite/nhjRLzbQ
& @igorgoldkind.bsky.social


The Problem With American Women: The Commodification of Sexuality in American Culture

Of course I realize that this title was going to attract your attention.


But if you’re expecting a misogynistic rant about my failures to attract American women for sex, love and money while listing an arbitrary itinerary of American female failings (heads not flat enough on top to rest a beer on; always changing their minds from what I want to what THEY want; too busy working, taking care of children, cleaning the house, running errands and cooking to dress up in lingerie and give me a poll dance [double entendre intended]), then you will be sadly disappointed.


What James Thurber endearingly referred to the war between the sexes is a significantly different battlefield than in his age of single income affluence when women couldn’t own property without the consent of their husband or father or older brother.
Economically, socially, politically, psychologically and most importantly, sexually

My age grants me the memory of what there was before what there is now.
My adolescence coincided with the 70s, the decade in which the formant of social and technological changes of the 50s and 60s came to fruition into permanence in the 70s.


Readily available contraception, nascent computational technologies and the emancipation of the African American all spread ripples that were waves of change, like an asteroid had struck and plunged into the center of the collective, American cultural pool. African Americans and their other than colored allies, strode the lunch counters,school buses and schools that had been violently forbidden them.

The British adoption of the African American sound and its subsequent export back to America via the Beatles, the Stones and other blues based white boy bands infiltarted the American psyche.

Elvis Presley no longer played n*g**r music that stirred the white youth into sexual frenzy, but now was seen as performing classic Americana, to the extent that Richard Nixon invited him to the Whitehouse and made Elvis a federal cop.


Through the 70s I saw women becoming bus drivers, cops, doctors, lawyers, business women. I saw black faces on my colored TV. And the emancipation kept rippling. Homosexuality became Gay.

Mexicans became strikers, fighting for a decent wage.

Asians became Kung Fu fighters, although their star had to be David Carradine not Bruce Lee. Movies became the subversion of the times. Altman, Coppola, Scorsese, Woody Allen, et al chronicled the narrative of change and their audiences applauded in self-recognition.


But in many ways the change in over half the human population (51%) was most significant of all. As women regained their economic power through wider employment and enterprise opportunity coupled with their control over their reproductive rights, the right not to get pregnant from having sex, our society as a whole began to shift it’s world view.

The feminine became mainstream. Women were taken more and more seriously by men, not just as objects of desire and potential child bearing mates, but as agents of agency and volition all their own.

The masculine was being checked.


This however was no bed of emancipation roses.

With women gaining more social power, many men felt that the power of their patriarchy was under threat. Many men embraced the reality of neater, gentler, more considerate and nurturing values infecting the mainstream of alpha male dominance. But many more did not. As women gained prominence as agents of their own agency, many men began to begrudge the loss of their sex toys.


If women were less and less beholden to men for their economic and social status, then why should they continue sleeping with them or bearing their children?


So with the positive social changes came the desire to maintain control over what was being lost. What was being lost was the masculine dominance and control over the feminine. In response, men began to alienate themselves from the very people that they loved and wanted to be close to. The perceived loss of power trumped (pun intended), the loss of intimacy.


This was manifested by the explosion of the porn industry in the mid to late 1970s.
If women no longer submitted their sexuality, their reproductive volitions to men, then men needed to extract what it was that they thought they desired in women: their image, their sexuality, their allure.

Americans are the most effective industrializers of human commodities since Nazi Germany created their factories of death.
Capitalism has always been about two things: the assignation of value to market demand and second, the exploitation of labour for the sake of “surplus value” i.e. money, Capital.

Capitalism means money, the value of which supersedes all other human values as the ultimate measure of humanity.

.
In true American Consumer Capitalist fashion, America created the porn industry on an industrial scale, hiring women in the thousands to perform to male ideals, to submit to masculine desires.

Men, having lost the intimacy of their gender dynamic could now afford to “buy” the fulfillment of their assumed entitlement, their deserved desires. Even before the internet, (which ultimately bankrupted the porn industry by making imagery, the sound and motion of performative sex free), porn pervaded every corner of male culture.

If you are a woman or don’t know this already, you need to understand that every man you have every met or will meet, including your partner, your father, your uncle and your sons have masturbated to pornography until climax.


This is a fact, not merely my opinion.


There are no men who don’t use porn as a tool of literal self relief.


The problem of course congeals because porn is not sex; or rather it is feigned sex, performative sex. The actors who are hired to expose themselves, to engage in the myriad of soft to hard core scenarios that are delivered as commodities, don’t necessarily enjoy what they are doing. They’re doing it for the money, not the pleasure.


Of course, as in any acting, some performers are more fully immersed in their roles than others but the fact remains that without money, there would be no porn.

Pornography is the ultimate commodification of human beings.


I write this not as a Puritan (who have their own sexual problems). I write this as a partaker (seldom and less and less), but nonetheless a user of pornography.


I have watched pornography with women who claim, at least to me, that they enjoy it. But mainly they say that they enjoy my enjoyment of it. The more turned on I am the more turned on she is: and that’s the crux of the dilema.

Pornography is NOT sexuality, it’s not sex; it’s fake sex.

When fake sex begins to replace real sex we begin to lose our discernment of humanity on an emotional, visceral level.


There is no way I can make love, have sex with a woman without completely surrendering to my empathy for who she is as a human being. I want to use her for my own gratification, yes; but I equally want her to use me for her gratification. I desire her to desire me. The more she desires me,, the more desire I feel for her.


In pornography, fake sex, all the desire is one way.


There’s the object, commodified, paid for and thus acquired and then there’s the recipient of the product’s desire, who has paid for its delivery.
There’s no collaboration, there’s no carnal dialogue, no exchange and no empathy.
There’s no sex, really.

It’s Important at this Juncture to Address the Metaphysics of Sex and Sexuality.

The sexual act, when engaged in, is one of the most powerful psychological/emotional and physical behaviors that human being experience. Speaking phenomenologically, as a participant (rather than an observer), the human body undergoes dramatic physiological and chemical variance when sexually aroused and when engaging (again, NOT observing; ENGAGING) in sex.

Biochemically, the body’s hormones trigger a radical change to the body chemistry and psychological experience and behavior of the participants. When we are aroused it feels as if another force is acting through us. We lose our inhibitions and surrender to our senses. We are consumed by our desires for another’s body.

We become more in and connected to the moment of our gratification.

We become simultaneously emotionally charged and emotionally vulnerable. When we are with someone we trust, someone we have affection for, our emotions are hightened and stimulated into a state of adoration.

It is no coincidence that we culturally refer (across all cultures, by the way), to the sexual act as ‘Making Love’. Because it is precisely Love that we are experiencing during this hightened state of transcendental arousal.

Moreover, our senses become dilated, our focus dissipates into a primarily sensory experience. Our sense of time alters, even space appears to contract to the realm within reach of our senses.

As we reach orgasm we lose our normal sense of self and can experience the melding of one into two and then into one. Most of all, we experience pleasure and ultimately ecstasy.

On an experiential level, good sex is psychedelic, reminding the body and mind of our natural lack of separation from the place and time we are in and who we are with. The spiritual value of good sex is better explored by the Hindus and the concepts of Tantric sex which really amounts to treating sex as a meditative activity, an active Yoga of mind, Spirit and mind.
In vino veritas.
Good sex is curative.
It relieves us of our daily suffering we have grown numb to. It relieves anxiety and fear, it grounds us in our own bodies and minds. But most of all, it connects us to another (or others) through a transcendence of our senses into a higher state of awareness.

Sex is the LSD anyone can take any time and still go to work the next day (or same afternoon).

Sex is so good for us, for everyone that of course, like LSD they had to make it illegal!


Or if not strictly illegal, controlled by the church, by the state and by the inhibitions of guilt and shame that were taught to us. Taught? Brainwashed, more exactly!


All of us have been abused into associating sex with shame.

Because nature wants us to fuck, urgently, imperatively; and nature must by every and any means, be controlled.

Good Sex is the key to the survival of our species. The primeval drive to procreate is so powerful that it even supersedes the mind’s normal self awareness of causality and consequence. We don’t give a fuck, we just want to fuck and that is where the social context steps in.

Such a strong, spiritual nay metaphysical, force that affects every aspect of the human’s being really can’t be controlled. One’s sex drive can be regulated, restrained even, but ultimately the force prevails or the subject becomes ill.

Sexuality has always threatened organized society precisely because everyone knows it can’t really be controlled.

The Bonono chimpanzees of Africa, our closest biological relatives on the planet spend most of their day fucking, when they’re not eating. Bononos fuck everyone, males fuck males, females fucks females, fathers fuck their daughter, sons fuck their mothers. A tribe of Bononos are a virtual ongoing orgy. Even when they’re not fucking, Bononos will engage is mass masturbation behavior especially when feeling anxious or fearful of predators.

This is what nature provides and what nature wants.

Now humans, on the other hand, have developed complex social labyrinths determining status and pedigree based mainly on language and power.

So the less Bonono and more human people became, the greater the need to control sexual behavior. Taboos evolved. Some pragmatic, such as the incest taboo; but others less so, like the pervading Victorian era myth that good women didn’t want to have sex.

With the advent of the so-called Sexual Revolution facilitated by the mass availability of the pill, as well as the misunderstanding of the anthropologist Margaret Mead’s study of the sexual habits of Polynesian people, sex once again began to assume its default position within human behavior. So ofcourse, the powers-that-be needed to exercise firmer control over what cannot ultimately be controlled.

The tragedy of the Human Comedy is that we always try to control what cannot be and should not be controlled.

Capitalism in its neurotic quest to commodify everything, conquered sex by commodifying it. By deconstructing the blessed act into it’s sensory components that could be sold piecemeal. Like a corporate takeover that strip mines a successful company for its assets. American Capitalism pornographies sexuality, made it an observer’s obsession rather than a participants spiritual celebration.

By disarming the subjective participant into an observer, our modern society is able to regulate our sexuality, determin fresh taboos and grant licence to what was previously prohibited as long as it can be sold for profit.

Thus homosexuality was allowed to be Gay.

Because Capitalism is an international conspiracy to dehumanize our species, the commodification of our sexuality is not contrained to American shores. It’s just much worse and more intense here.


American women especially, have been subjected to the most abusive dimension of this dehumanization. I speak from the personal experience of having lived in half a dozen mainly European cultures, having married an English woman and courted many a non American woman. (Well not MANY, but enough to draw an accurate comparison).

The American woman, having more recently reached a level of economic, ediucative and social emancipation (but still not paid the same amount for the same job as her male counterpart), determined to seize the reins of her own sexuality. And compared to the early 20th century, have seemingly succeeded in doing so.

Reproductive rights and women’s sexual health are currently political issues for the presidential election.
The great Sigmund Freud made his reputation and foundation of Psychoanalysis based on treating bourgeois (upper middle class) women for the affliction of “Hysteria”.

Hysteria was a common diagnosis in the early part of the 20th century and medical doctors all through Europe received the wives of welathy industrialists to cure them of this mass affliction. Brutal practices such as ECT and even lobotomies were applied to “cure” these poor, afflicted women.

The symptoms of Hysteria were depression, listlessness and non submissive behaviors. If a woman argued, then she might be suffering from Hysteria and rushed to an institution to be cured.

But one of the foremost symptoms of Hysteria as reported by the husbands of these unfortunate women of the time was seeking sexual attentions from their partners.


Yes!

Wanting to have sex with her husband, to surrender to that primal state of natural human being, was considered at one time a sure tell sign of hysteria and thus remedied by electric shock, ice water plunges and even lobotomy!

As I write this I shudder at the mere thought of the extremes of human cruelty and callous indifference.

Fortunately, Freud’s approach was to actually listen to his women patients and when he wasn’t prescribing them cocaine, he wrote down their words, their confessions into his famous case histories that eventually were the foundation of his “talking cure” and theories of child sexuality.

His daughter Anna Freud furthered her father’s paradigm-shifting approach and founded the field of Child Psychology, studying and reporting the effects of sexuality on our natures and happiness as adult individuals.

Freud famously posed the question “What do women want?” and ultimately through years of interviews and research, answered his own question.

What we all want, Good Sex!

So what’s the problem with American women?

They have been co-opted into the business of sex to the extent that they have begun to commodify their own sexuality and sell it to men. Not as prostitutes, although there are plenty of both male and female versions of this. No, they have begun to deconstruct their own sexualities as components to be observed, not loved, not actually fucked, but seen to be sexual..

They have harnessed the sexualities of alienated lonely, pathetic men into a market force that they can supply. Only Fans is just the latest example of this. American women have countered the tyranny of the patriarchal gaze by consciously manipulating it for their material gain. Emancipation has become self-slavery.

Sex is now a power struggle as to who dominates who, commercially, transactionally.


Instead of connectivity, of intimacy and shared sensualities, sex for the American woman has become transactional. ‘What do I get out of it?’, is as strong a calling as nature’s pull. Stronger in the form of manifesting neurotic behaviors such as manipulation, salesmanship, intentional confusion and chaotic communications.

Since sex is now a transaction, the only question becomes who gains the most?. Pleasure and fulfillment are secondary considerations. Intimacy, even Love, a fairy tale you grow out of to join the “real world”

Surely this is true of European women as well, I hear someone saying.


Yes, but not so much so in my experience.
English, French, Italian and Spanish women are no more promiscous than their American counterparts. However, in general European women know what they want, know who they want and don’t want it from and are much more comfortable in their sexuality as well as expressing it than American women are.

American women seem at times to be almost afraid of their own sexuality, afraid of losing control, of surrendering to lust. This is by no means healthy!

Whereas Europeans just don’t make that big a deal out of it. They enjoy sex because they know it’s good for them and if it doesn’t work out, c’est la vie; there’s always other experiences with better partners down the line.

In Europe sex is treated more like a fine meal.


Necessary for healthy living and worthy of enjoyment. Bad sex, like a bad meal is to be avoided and hopefully not repeated. But you don’t know until you try it, right? Just taste a little, you might like it.


Good sex, like a good meal is literally a divine experience, a jubilant celebration of the senses (btw, anything accompanied by the right wine is a ticket to paradise).


I have enjoyed meals in Paris bistros, Greek tavernas, Italian Tratorias thate can only be described in transcendetnal terms.

Likewise I have loved, made love to, had love with women of Europe that will adhere to my memory like a childhood. Respectful, tender loving moments that will never escape me.


Unfortunately, outside of the adolescent fumblings of highschool and early college, I have yet to experience the same level of encounter here in my native land. I attribute my failure to connect as an aspect of Capitalist culture. I cannot bridge the transactional nature of American sexuality; to me it all seems like a verision of pornography or even prostitution to me; an impression which has been reinforced most recently when a woman friend of mine suggested I hire a professional sex worker to share intimacy with.

I was genuinely shocked as if it had been a male friend, I could have understood his clumsy solution. This friend knew me and yet her choice of assistance was to suggest I buy the services of a sex. I am MUCH TOO CHEAP, to ever consider this as a practical option. Besides why wouldn’t the woman PAY ME, for my « services »?

My friend was a well intended American woman, a peer who seriously suggested that my path to sexual fulfillment could be purchased and transacted rather than pursued or danced for.

I can only conclude that the sexuality of the American woman has been seriously compromised by a cultural and societal appartus constructed by men but now reinforced by women. This apparatus generates sexual neurosis and ultimately dehumanizes and devalues the most powerful and wonderful experience people can give each other.

So What’s Your Solution, Sherlock?

Well, not cocaine.


Far be it for me to prescribe remedies for societal ills; even my arrogance has limits!


I would fall back on conversation. People need to start talking about sex a lot more, especially to the people we want to have sex with.

A lot more.

The social rituals are still too complex. When I first met my future wife, we had sex the same night we met because we were both attracted to each other and trusted each other enough to act on our desires. My beautiful daughter Olivia is a product of unbridled, unihibited sexuality as she was and continues to be the best thing in my life.

Men, being stupider than women, need to be less coy and less aggressive at the same time. We need to learn to ask for what we want without acting like petulant children when refused. We need to cultivate a taste for the sensual, not just the sex; everything surrounding and leading up to and following the act, not just the act itself. We need to learn how to be better lovers, not technically but emotionally.

Remember you men reading these words, the number one cause of female mortality in the US, more than disease, more than accidents is men. So just keep in mind that women have just cause to be wary of us.

And women: you lovely, lovely, horrific creatures must learn how to celebrate your sexuality, not as a tit for tat transaction, but as something for yourself. Something you enjoy in itself for it’s own sake, not for status and/or material gain. Women must learn to be joyful participants, equal partners in the sensual dance of lust and desire.


Learn how to clearly signal what you want from a man. Remember, men are stupider than you are, so make sure your signals are clear and obvious. SPELL IT OUT that you want to fuck when you want to. Protect yourself, of course, but when you trust a man and trust your own desires, surrender to the power of your libido.

You have nothing to lose but your inhibition and your neurosis.

Learn how to fuck with gusto, with tenderness, with celebration. Embrace the moment you can step out of your daily concerns and like wild Bonono chipanzees be animals for a night (or a day, or an afternoon or the entire weekend).

Celebrate the Body Electric!
And have no expectations. Sex happens in the moment not in the anxiety of the future nor the nostalgia of the past. Keep your emotional baggage to the size where it can fit comfortably in the overhead locker of you flight. Then buckle up and fly baby, fly!

I guarantee that you will be happier, healthier and free from the constraints and manipulations of commodification. You will become your better self by embracing what is most precious about being human.

Have a divine meal of an other, feast on the sensuous pleasures you can unfurl from within your own sacred being and discover within an other.

Don’t feel guilt or shame or poker-player gaming, feel joy, scream out loud, laugh, cry and be free.

For what it’s worth that’s my advice.
I leave you not with my words but that of Patti Smith’s:


“Love is an Angel Disguised as Lust”

thanks for reading and have A Great Flying Fuck!



Splashing Out Cold Water


Banned From Facebook, Again…

What can I say?

The month of January was silent due to my having accused a local mask-denier of demonstrating “a lethal stupidity”. 30 day suspension for “bullying’. I assume based on her complaint that I was telling her not to spread misinformation.


My latest trespass, again for another 30 days (first 7, until I appealed the decision), was for taking issue with a Trump supporter on one of Alexandra Cortez’s threads.

The woman was claiming that AOC had made up her account. A Portuguese participant commented in AOC’s defense whereupon the virulent QAnon proponent told the Portuguese national that he was a foreigner and to mind his own business, going back to his own country. I immediately responded in his defence by inviting him as my guest, to comment on anything he wanted to in the land of freedom of speech and then chastised the woman to stop being an ignorant American.

She complained that I was nationally slandering her for being an American manifestation of supreme ignorance. I was again suspended from using Facebook for 30 days, 27 more.

My appeals have been well reasoned and completely ignored.

I am awaiting the moral judgement of the algorithmic overlords by which human employees make decisions at Face Book. Repeatedly, I have been censured and censored for challenging misinformed comments that Facebook itself, if it contained one iota of the moral standard it claims to hold, should have caught in the first place!


If challenging and taking issue with those who question the legitimacy of the election, the validity of the pandemic or its remedies and continue to spout dangerous, Trump inspired, racist and and anti vax madness goes against Facebook’s Community Standards then those standards and their deployment are in serious need of actual public review and scrutiny.

In the meantime, I shall wallow in the righteousness of my exile.
Dostoievski won’t be drinking alone tonight in the Facebook Gulag.





Take a look at my new book and get yourself a Free review copy!
https://takeadeepbreath.one


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COMING SOON! The Cure for Pandemania

Take a Deep Breath – Living With Uncertainty 

A book of poetry and art, fables and philosophies aimed at the pandemic of crisis anxiety so many are facing.

In uncertain times people turn to uncertain means.  This is a book of poetry and art, of fables and philosophies aimed at  the pandemic  of  crisis anxiety so many of us are going through right now in our daily lives and in our inner spaces. We are all of us and each us in this together. 

The sciences but also the arts do provide remedies.  The ancient Egyptians wrote curative words on fragments of papyrus to feed their burnt ashes to the afflicted. Lacking morphine, Walt Whitman read verses to fallen soldiers on the battlefields of the first Civil War.  

At their best, the right words are more than therapeutic, they can be  curative. Take a Deep Breath  emulates this ritual here in administering remedies for living in these times of crisis, in living with uncertainty. 


The Nazis Changed Their Uniforms

My paternal grandfather Mordecai Goldkind (Morris) was a Polish Jewish immigrant from outside Lodz. He came to the US via Ellis Island fleeing the Czar’s Cossacks first working on the New Jersey shipyards and then opening a successful shoe-maker’s shop in ’30s Brooklyn.

My father grew up listening to Hitler’s speeches on the radio as every other Jew living in America at the time did. When he turned 17, he enlisted.
There was no choice in the matter.

My grandmother’s heart broke packing her son away to boot camp but even she knew that there was no choice. The Nazis were coming after us and we had to stop them or die trying.
The war crippled my father.
Emotionally, psychologically.
I know now that he had to kill other men, German men at close hand.
I knew that speaking fluent German he loved the German people and their culture. I know that killing another man killed part of himself.

He told me that he survived by giving up the idea that he would.
The story of what happened after his return includes the story of his son, my life. My father was broken by that war fighting the fascists in Europe so that we would not have to fight them here in America.
There was no choice.

When I was a boy and my grandparents came to visit or we visited them, my grandfather Mordechai would talk about Israel but he and my father would sometimes talk about the Nazis. I remember my grandfather pointing his finger at me in the middle of my silent witness of their conversation:

“Igor, don’t you ever fool yourself into thinking that we beat the Nazis and they all went away. They never go away. They wait for the right time and then they just change their uniforms.”

Was I 6, 7?
I don’t know.
All I recall was the deep bootprint of my father and his father warning me down the generational ladder to be vigilante. To watch for the signs. That the Nazis do not go away. That oppression, power, cruelty and inhumanity does not evaporate. That they linger waiting patiently for the right time to put their new uniforms on.

Now is that time.
I can see the MAGA uniforms.
I can see the detention camps, the forced hysterectomies, the torture by negligence of thousands of children.
Can’t you?

I can see the exploitation of a pandemic for deliberate eugenic population control under the mask of ‘herd immunity’.
Can’t you?

I can see dissidents and protestors being criminalized and imprisoned for 10 years for defacing a statue.
I see our civil rights being teargassed into the ground.
Can’t you?

I can see the violent racism on the streets, the white power fanatic infiltrating lawful protests to vandalize, destroy and cast blame on the citizen protestors.
Can’t you?

I can see the police getting more and more aggressive, shooting more and more unarmed citizens, jailing more and more dissidents like in Russia or China.
Can’t you?

I can see America’s future as a giant, fat man’s golf shoe stomping on the face of freedom and justice forever.
Can’t you?

Can’t you do something?
Vote Biden/Harris 2020
There’s really no choice.


What He Said She Said (v2)



She said Hii!
I said hello
She said let’s go for a drink.
I said sure.
She asked ‘what are you having’?
I said, whatever you want.
She said, thank you for thinking of me first.
I said your pleasure is all mine.

Later she sent me a text.
‘Have you ever tried phone sex’?
She said.
I said ‘Sure’.
She said how about now?
I said I need to go home.
She said she did too,
She sends me a naked picture of herself.

Are you hard”? She asks
‘Sure’, I said.
“I want you to fuck me”, She said.
‘Shall I come over’? I say.
“No”, she said. 
“Let’s meet and fuck tomorrow. 
But for right now, just this moment 
Can you just talk to me”?
‘Sure, ‘I said.

Right now I just want you to tell me how you’d like to fuck me.
‘Do you want me to come over,’ I said again.
“No,” she said, 
“Don’t come over 
Just talk to me and make me cum.
I just love the sound of your voice”.
‘Sure’, I said. And she did.
‘Are we still getting together tomorrow by the fountain in the park’?
I asked, after a while.
‘Of course’, she said.
‘Great’, I said.

The next morning she sent me a message:
“I’m sorry but your age is something 
I just can’t get past, 
I’m not meeting you next to the fountain, I’m sorry.
You’re just too old and I shouldn’t have let things go so far

I just can’t get past that; your age”
‘Sure’, I said. 
‘Neither can I without fatal results’.
She did not laugh
“I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel” She said.
‘That’s how you feel’, I said.
Later that morning I died my hair black

and left dark stains in the sink.


Notes from a Facebook Exile

Once again the ghostly powers of Facebook have judged me and found me wanting.

Or wanting of the veneer of non threatening, amiable posts. Nothing that would offend a Humming Bird of nerve endings. A Calvinist shaking in their boots. I’m not a Facebook post, you don’t have to like me!

My grave offence was to post a photograph of the great American poet Allen Ginsberg standing naked on a Moroccan beach. The original naked poet; metaphor and literal combined into one. His words, not his images were deemed obscene way back in the last century. There was a public trial and unlike Socrates, Ginsberg (and City Lights, the publisher) were both found not guilty of obscenity. Howl was deemed a work of art and protected under the first amendment. Why doesn’t Facebook abide by the first amendment instead of hiding like a coward behind their Emerald City curtain of Community Standards?

And why don’t Americans know their own history?

I had the opportunity to meet and talk with Allen Ginsberg during my Freshman year, when he had come to do a reading and lead a group meditation paying his dreadful table accordion. Was I 17 or 18? I was studying Heidegger and Charles Olsen, the Action Poet; Kandinsky’s New York roommate right round 1959 thereabouts, when the photo of Ginsberg on the Beach was taken. But I knew all of his work, inside and out. I was never gay but Ginsberg made me want to be!

I had stopped Allen in an outdoor corridor lined by lawn between two campus buildings. I was armed with my copy of the first edition City Lights Kaddish epic that I had found by blissful chance in the long gone used intelligentia bookstore at the corner of College and El Cajon Blvd, in San Diego, over a lifetime ago.

Allen looked at my book and gladly signed it. “I haven’t seen a first edition of these in years!” I told Allen about the used book store in San Diego where I had gone through all of his poetry and Kerouac and Cassidy’s First Third and Dylan’s Tarantula, Alan Watts, D.T. Suzuki’s 3 volume Essays on Zen, all bought and consumed at this temple to beatitude at the cross roads of the world. I didn’t tell him how in high school we used to climb to the top of Cowell Mountain and howl the words to Howl at the valley unfolding beneath us. We didn’t know what hungry junkies were quite yet, but it sounded good and it was real. As real as the suburbs of San Diego can ever be.

In the past present, Allen handed me my book, more of a pamphlet, back and looked me up and down and smiled. It was a genuine smile and not the least bit lecherous considering what he said next.
“Would you like to come up to my room, it’s just over graduate housing? I can show you some poem books you haven’t seen. I knew what he meant but I was so stunned dumb by the proposition (Allen Ginsberg!). I stuttered something still trying to make up my mind before I spoke. But alas, fear of the unknown vanquished my curiousity or perhaps it was my vanity to be loved by a star that was defeated.

Nonetheless I must of said something because we went on our merry ways, my thanking him a little too profusely and the back of his bald head bobbing down the corridor.

So when I posted the photo a young Allen standing nude on a Morrocan beach, I kind of felt like I had earned the right to share his image, naked and vulnerable for the sake of a poetry reading which it was more than certain that someone would recite a Ginsberg-eque poem.

The Philistines may have conquered the machines but not me as of yet.

Allen Ginsberg 1959
The Eye Has It

Facebook is Anti-Culture

Facebook is Anti-Culture

I’ve started this post after returning from a 60-day ban from Posting, Liking, Communicating, Joining, or Connecting with anyone else in the Facebook Community.

Censorship, the suppression of words, images, or ideas that are “offensive,” happens whenever some people succeed in imposing their personal political or moral values on others. Censorship can be carried out by the government as well as private pressure groups. ~ The ACLU

What Was My Crime?

My posting one of my own published poems from my book Is She Available? that had been posted in Facebook at least thrice before without repercussion. and is currently available in dozens of libraries and bookstores throughout California and soon to be released in the UK. The visual interpretation of a love poem by the Designer/photographer and internationally renown artist/typographer Rian Hughes entitled:

I Missed Your Scent in Paris

Although his image was a black and white stylized photograph of a woman where if you squinted and looked real close you could make out the shadow of half a nipple showing, (which is exactly what a Facebook employee would have had to have done in order to render judgement that Tian and my work contravened Facebook’s community standards.

Words by Igor Goldkind – Image by Rian Hughes
Censored by Facebook

The Poem and Rian’s photo interpretation of the poem were not obscene, disgusting nor gratuitously offensive in any way. Unless of course, you consider the human body in itself to be obscene, in which case I strongly suggest you seek therapeutic help as you clearly entertain unhealthy, self-hating, anti-social thoughts.

Instead, if not the poem, then certainly the photograph of the semi-nude woman is a work of art. It is obvious to anyone who reads and looks that it had no other intention. Not being able to distinguish between pornography and erotic art is one of the great threats Facebook’s dumbed down lack of discernment poses to the thriving of a culture.
––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
Art is the science of culture. Both are experiment–driven.
Igor Goldkind
–––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––
As community-oriented and community-sounding Facebook professes to be (in its language and self-justifications of its censorship), Facebook is the enemy of culture. As well as the enemy of the community of humanity that shares the values that a free society comes hand in hand with expression free from censorship; as long as the expression poses no harm. Otherwise, it is not a free community.

“To destroy a people, first destroy their culture. 
~ Mario Torero

What is it exactly about the half shadow image of a woman’s left nipples poses a threat to anyone? The last time I checked, a woman’s nipple is the source of nourishment for all of us, male and female at one time or another.

To censor the image of a human nipple is to censor the truth of what it means to be human. How can I prove this? Look for yourself! Apart from a minority of our fellow hairless apes who have lost them in accidents or horrific burns, we ALL OF US HAVE NIPPLES! It is the truth of who we are and as an artist, as a poet, I am only interested in the truth of who we are. Not the twisted Calvinist attempt at reversioning a reality where angels never fart and genies have no belly-buttons.

We Must Protect You From Yourself

I know for a fact that genies do have belly-buttons, I’ve seen them with my own eyes! And as far as angel farts go, they smell better than your own.

Article 10 of the United Nations Human Rights Act protects our right to hold our own opinions and to express them freely without government or private interference.

This includes the right to express our views aloud (for example through public protest and demonstrations) or through:

• published articles, books or leaflets
• television or radio broadcasting
• the internet and social media
• AND WORKS OF ART
• The law also protects our freedom to freely receive 
information from other people.

The US The Supreme Court has interpreted the First Amendment’s protection of artistic expression very broadly. It extends not only to books, theatrical works and paintings but also to posters, television, music videos and comic books and personal social media pages including FACEBOOK — whatever the human creative impulse produces.

The right not to be censored by an arbitrarily superimposed moral hypocrisy of a minority…. is articulated in the Human Rights Act signed by the US as treaty and thus bound by US federal law in 1964. In the late 1960s and 1970s, the United States renewed its commitment to the international human rights system by signing, though not yet ratifying, several major human rights treaties.

Including the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Racial Discrimination (ICERD), the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights (ICCPR), and the INTERNATIONAL COVENANT ON ECONOMIC, SOCIAL AND CULTURAL RIGHTS (ICESCR).

Liberty, Freedom & Justice
But Not From Facebook

These are the laws of the land that FACEBOOK has violated in unceremoniously and without warning censoring my work. Judgement without respite and only the cosmetics of appeal.

Facebook is not a community in any shape or form as long as its private owners impose their narrow, petty, puerile, and juvenile morals on us without listening to everyone, not just the complainers, who make up that community. That includes us good for nothing, when-are-you-going-to-get-a-real-job? artists.

There is no one to talk to at Facebook. No one to appeal to; no one to reason with and no one that takes responsibility for its actions. Human beings wrote the algorithms, built the servers and the browsers to increase the human bandwidth, not to distance us from ourselves!

There is no reason to fear the takeover of robots, algorithmic judgements and machines, for we have already surrendered.

Please repost this in part or in full on your wall and please share with your friends across all social media. Maybe Facebook will recall what it means to be a human with nipples one day and stop emulating the machines (who have no nipples).

Thank you,

Igor Goldkind
Still Human & Nippled

PS You think that I’m overreacting? Just another crazy, good for nothing artist making pointless noise? The Modigliani nude, the Picasso, the Rubens and all fell foul of Facebook and are all pictured as depicted after being defaced by Facebook in the name of their hypothetical Community Standards.


Being Banned From Facebook for No Bloody Good Reason: The Moral Failings of a Computational Society.

In vino veritas.

I write this mainly for my regular readers who may be concerned about my apparent absence from FB.   I’ve always used FB as a fencing ground and now I’ve been fenced out, temporarily, for 3 days.

My account has been public for the last 5 years because I always fully intended to provoke,  and attract engagement particularly from those that find offence or challenge here or just take exception to my posts.

But mainly, I use this platform to hone my writing skills in real time.

It’s a form of art activism, Artivism.

Bringing the origins of my work; the emotions, the outrages, the political anger and the moral dismay I feel directly to confront on their walls, in their replies and in their faces, those who are morally failing.

Who do I mean are morally failing?

Well, anyone who still says they support the treasonous weasel in the White House, is a start.  But more generally Americans who should be more French than they’re English but unfortunately share more with the English propensity for worshipping dogs and traumatising their children.

The present generation of “youf”; be they white, black, Chicano, Native, Vietnamese, Gay, Chinese, Transitioning, Korean, Japanese, Indian, African, Middle Eastern (and every combination of the above), have more in common with each other than they will ever have with any of their previous generations.

Revolution needn’t be violent they just need to turn things around.

But to the point in question, I have not been in touch because I have been barred from both Facebook and Messenger for not following community guidelines, poor dears.  Except that I am as much a part of that community as anyone. Not of an algorithm that flags random posts to FB ‘s appointed moral custodians.

My crime against the community?

Reposting the profile photo of a woman’s breast dripping with red wine into a crystal goblet.  In fact, her nipple is obscured as it is drenched in wine.

You can see it for yourself here below.

What is the algorithm’s crime?  Well nothing, it just follows and acts on long lists of tedious commands; executed in the blink of time

No mind, I’ve been a naughty, naughty boy and my shrilling mother will not allow me to save the human race from amnesia.

I can’t stop the algorithm from making a moral judgement that supersedes mine, or any human’s.  I can’t have a quick word with the algorithm or anyone at FB to teach them what a juxtaposition of symbols that create an allusion to the truth.

Such as the sweet wine depicted being the mirror of the sweet mother’s milk as is symbolically conveyed by the nude breast.  You cannot make that visual allusion with a bra.

It doesn’t work.

The breast must appear as nude as it is to the baby that seeks its nourishment.  Sweet breast milk, sweet primal nourishment, sweet wine that I sip in the middle of my night to remind myself that I was once a child, protected and loved by my mother.

As were you.

Algorithms have no mothers.  And those who are the masters of those algorithms long ago put their mothers out of their eye’s way, in homes.

Please Share,
Everything.

In vino veritas.

In vino veritas.


My Alley Cat

My Alley Cat

I didn’t get her name.
It was a hot and wet Saturday night;
So I left the screen door wide open
Hoping for a change in the weather.

37871328_10156753268077755_5708384850646401024_o.jpg

She strolled in like the queen of Sheeba riding a breeze.
Her inspection was on schedule.
She allowed me to imagine that it was my company she was after.
Earnestly engaging my eyes with her face.

Which she put close to mine and stared into my eyes.
As if she were the only soul left on earth who still loved me.
All the while she scanned the kitchen floor out of the corner of her feline eye,
I became fascinated by her calm, steady gaze.

Once having assessed my meagre, modest, means
She walked straight back out the door she had walked through.
And out of my life again.
Leaving me to gaze at the space she had deliberately left behind.