Secede From the Union

            I really want to put the word ‘rant’ to rest, for my part.  I think I’ll stop using it and it’s rather self-deprecating for me to describe a tangential diatribe as a rant, or rather an exploratory soliloquy (A poem is, after all, a walk).   My thought process works as a network of tangents that are tributaries from certain engrained essences.  These ‘essences’ are truths that I believe at the core of my being, truths that emanate from some abstract sense of ‘good’.  (Tangent #1: mystical/post-modern Biblical interpretation)  Some people look to the Ten Commandments for a blueprint of their morality.  Those particular laws can be discovered without a biblical decree even.  Many people, just through the course of living, realize that they should not kill or steal, etc.  My thoughts about that are that one must also be a mystic to consider the implications of ‘thou shall not worship false idols’.  What does that mean?  Well, I believe that one must align themselves toward the universal essences and not superficial appearances.  Should the bible be taken as literal truth? (A question asked during a recent republican debate.)  Well, I would argue that a literal interpretation would be the act of worshipping a false idol.  Regardless of its holiness, it’s a book!  People argue over what it means, people interpret its passages poorly.  There is no divine objectivity involved in our interaction with this.   How does it pertain to my life and how does it benefit this community? 

            So, I’ve been collecting arguments and sound bites in my head recently, gathering mostly impressions and interpretations that have been pointing toward what I believe to be a big issue facing us as Americans.  We, every one of us, need to contemplate ‘change’ in this same mystical sense.  I ranted earlier about how change has t-boned the music industry and how its collapse is a direct result of its shortsightedness.  We are seeing health care failure here in

            I must admit that I am fascinated with the discussions going on about the future of music.  thebrotheregg just released our recent 7 song ep on a short run of cds and 12” vinyl on our own label and I have been trying for ages to figure out where we stand in the large glut of noise out there.  I’ve always loved the cult phenomena of music, that I can embrace something and make it my own and often the really significant things happening are way off radar.  More seismic bands don’t possess this self-discovery potential by this theory, the point either way, is for one to find one’s own self reflected in the values of music.  Anyhow, I’ve modeled my life after this cult thing.  I’ve known others who have, too.  But this idea was largely a part of my younger years when identities and allegiances were just forming and I was writing with pen on my jeans and Chucks the perfectly recreated moniker of the Misfits or the Subhumans (UK).  Anyhow, with the internet and all this availability of every factoid under the sun, those untarnished discoveries maybe don’t mean as much?  I don’t have to make a long pilgrimage to find obscure records any more, so I guess the phenomenon has changed a bit.  Likewise, with everyone listening to whatever, kids might not be growing up with this top 40 group think like they once did which has really unified previous generations.  Hell, ask anyone my age about Duran Duran or Thriller and they’ll probably have memories and feelings that are shared with everyone of that age.  Does that exist anymore?  Someone recently was talking about ‘Brass Monkey’ and instantly everyone in the room had the same though about the Beastie Boys because the Beastie Boys taught every seventh grader in

There was a commercial airing recently that I witnessed on TV, at a bar, with the sound off, and no closed-captioning.  Without the sound I’m not 100% sure, but the gist of it was that a fellow, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties was going to have his girl friend move into his apartment, but when she stepped foot in there, his pad was packed wall-to-wall with his record collection.  With the sound off, all I could interpret was her obvious displeasure in this, she crossed her arms and shook her head.  No, something was clearly going to have to change.  Well, this noble fellow obviously went out and got a turntable that loaded his record collection right into his computer and there was a brief part of the story showing him loading them one-by-one, the level meters were visible so you could tell what was going on, but the long-and-short of it was that the next time his girlfriend came by, the place was immaculate, no records to be found anywhere.  Where were they?  Stored on his ipod, naturally! 

            Well, I was initially like, what sort of message is this?! Screw these cultural bandits.  The ipod does not replace the turntable and mp3s are not automatically the new preferred music format.  I had questions.   But what is there to question?  Now, I did consider that maybe this fellow didn’t just get rid of his entire collection, but perhaps put it into storage.  That makes sense to me and is a little less sinister.  I can relate to the dilemma, certainly.  Anyone who has had a record collection and has had to move several times can attest to the pain of it all, lugging boxes upon boxes of vinyl from domicile to domicile.   But, I did have a revelation… as someone who hasn’t jumped on the ipod train yet, that perhaps that immaculate apartment depicted in the commercial was indeed a Jetson’s vision of the future, spotless minimalism.   I mean, if you are like me and you still have a wall full of cds, a library of sorts, you can’t help looking at it in wonder, knowing that so many people are carting their entire collection of music around with them in their pocket.  You just can’t help it !   Is the notion of just plain stuff the issue here?  Having stuff vs. not having stuff. 

            I just recently purchased a USB turntable for my computer.  This was a fine investment on my part, I must say.  No regrets, none what-so-ever.  I run it through my pro audio monitors and it sounds golden.  I’m a lot happier too, as a sentient being who has found himself, perhaps again, as a music fan.  As a music fan, I grew up with records and I looked at that gatefold of Michael Jackson with the tiger for eons.  I stared at the intricate adolescent artwork on the Misfits record, “Earth A.D.” for hours and days, etc, etc..  and many other personal stories about self-discovery through music.  So, naturally, it was frustrating when my main source of music retail in

            This is a typical tirade, I know that quite well.  I wanted to talk about records, vinyl, as if I were starting this new political party or something.   Sending out an awareness of sorts and creating a larger context in which this issue rests.    Naturally, cans of worms and Pandora’s boxes are continually being opened in my head as I write so it’s cool, man.  I wanted to also mention that I was annoyed about my own cynicism regarding all the myspace stuff and all the self-promotion that is running amok from every band and everyone with a guitar who has an album out and wants you to hear it.  It’s a glut of stuff and it’s so unsexy in my mind that bands need to pimp themselves because it defies the glory of being a rock star, that you shouldn’t have to pimp yourself, that the world should just worship and worship some more!  BUT:  I had an epiphany about it all that made me feel really good about everything and took a tremendous burden off my shoulders (because I bear the weight of the world on my shoulders as do many other neurotics).  So, I’ll write another entry about that because I’ve been reading a lot of blogs lately about where music is going because that’s my current thing.  Like, a lot of writers are considering what the future will look like and as far as the transition from what’s going on now with music to what will be going on just five years from now, it will require a certain amount of creativity just to imagine!  Who the hell knows.  But, there are certain things that are positive and some of them hit me like a hammer and I didn’t have the feel cynical any more about the state of things and I could relax and not be Chicken Little for five minutes or so.  Don’t worry, everything will be all right.     

Right now, I am recovering from a serious flu bug. I think at some point it even morphed into something else entirely which happened to be a really bad cold, but the initial flu stage was quite horrible. If you are living out here in Portland, perhaps you yourself, or someone you know has had this flu thing and can relate to what I’m saying here, I have no doubt of that. I’ve heard testimony from so many that can corroborate on the details and characteristics of this malady. In any case, I’m at least experiencing enough personal physical energy at this point to actually write something, or just do something. This flu thing killed any ability I may have had to do anything and it kept me out of commission for, so far, five and a half days. Unbelievable.
First: the fluctuating body temperature. I think, actually, that my awareness to this flu condition manifested itself in one initial and sudden spasm of cold shivers that was like a writhing irrationally of frigid convulsions, Crucible style. I needed to be held down with a belt shoved in my mouth to prevent myself from gnawing my own lip off with passionate… coldness. Following this, at some point, I woke up drenched in sweat. This back and forth between the two went on for days. Nightmare. At some point it became a terrible cold, like several days later.
Now, there’s a lot of people around going through this and I don’t mean to take time out of everyone’s busy lives to sit here and complain about being sick, poor me. This one just seemed a bit more extreme than anything I have caught while living in the Pacific Northwest. Well, there was that horrible bug in Olympia that sent me to the emergency room to get re-hydrated by IV. That was pretty bad.
No, this one was nasty enough in its own way and it proudly proclaimed itself. It was fascinating to hear about all the other people in every aspect of my life that had just gone through the same thing and had described it in exactly the same way. And the duration that it lasted, down to every little descriptive detail, was the same. Initially, I wanted to blame myself because I perhaps forgot to knock on wood after bragging about how sometimes I enjoy a few good sick days, to you know, really relax. Take care of myself for a change with pampering and justifiable sloth? Some days off where one rents mountains of bad movies or reads an entire book cover to cover. An occasional desire to be sick, if the timing is right and the opportunity for unmolested convalescence exists can sometimes depressurize anything resembling generalized anxiety, or temporarily relax the modern mania. I don’t know what I’m really saying here. Only that a little cold seemed almost romantic to me about a week ago or so, and my initial understanding is that I had posed a challenge somewhere in divinity and that the last week of misery was the reality check for that. On this occasion, I should have properly accented my naive desire for sick apathy with a good knocking on wood. There is nothing cool about being sick. We should be thankful for our good health when we have it.
Aside from feeling that I had somehow jinxed myself into achieving an exaggerated sickness, I also couldn’t help acknowledging the wisdom behind some of the various fevered visions of the past week. This erratic body temperature business I cannot explain scientifically and I did not bother doing much research to see what was actually going on so I will apply my usual impressionism to the experience. It felt crazy, for one. I experienced a kaleidoscope of different thoughts and emotions, which filled out this crazy feeling. I was even able to fit some current events type issues into it, like global warming for example. The economy is another, actually. Both the earth and the economy both have these delicate ecosystems. I wonder if Ecology and Economy are related in that manner. If I would just get off my ass and reach for my Google, I could provide more etymological proof that these words were indeed derived from the same origin. But really, it’s actually more fun right now to voice and preserve the wisdom of complete naïveté, which I earlier briefly mentioned as ‘impressionism’. I guess it would be the opposite of being and ‘expert’ of something. Being an impressionist for the functioning world of today might mean just trusting your impressions of things, maybe going with your gut instincts or acknowledging that all you know about a particular something is the oogy feeling it left you with. In any case, the Economy and the Earth. Be you a fiscal conservative or a ecoenvironmentalist, you can relate to this idea of a delicate network, both of which can be easily disturbed, create a ripple effect, a domino effect, a wildfire effect, a whatever you want to call it effect. Anyhow, our bodies operate on a carefully climate controlled economy of health. I felt as though I had spent too much time cutting down my own Brazilian rainforests at the smoky rock brothels of Portland, or at some hours, walking in the cold rain, I have achieved and surpassed peak oil. Yes, well I must admit the profundity of my sweat lodge experience is severely lacking, but when one becomes intoxicated with fever, these realizations of balance and harmony in the body, and onward to describe the balance of the universe, are wholly felt. The outcome: I must really take better care of myself and additionally, I really must get out there more and live life to it’s fullest. Ha!
The other thing that (must have) set in along the chills and sweats highway was my old friend, paranoia. I don’t really know what to actually call it, at this late hour. Paranoia mixed a bit with anger, or just restlessness at being cooped up inside all week, or just frustrated, whateva. It started to seem at some interval, that the citizens of this fine city, including myself, might have been dusted with an experimental pathogen. I considered calling the Center for Disease Control on the off-chance that no one ever acknowledged the obvious that was staring us all in the face: That all of us who are suddenly and strangely, and similarly with sickness, may be victims of a terrorist biological attack? Maybe now that we’re thinking about global warming, and actually experiencing these catastrophes on earth at this present time, that the delicate ecosystem might be now officially completely out of balance, like if the earth’s temperature were somehow just one degree different or one tiny species of bug dies off and everything get’s thrown out of whack. Maybe suddenly we all start getting sick because the moon is 2 inches closer to us and it manifests in a constant state of nausea that we start to experience. Or maybe that ozone hole is causing our guts to microwave.
But anyhow, by all accounts, many people are reporting a recovery from this flu thing, even me a bit (this still remains a feverish rant is my alibi). My bug was a bit different because it morphed into a cold numerous days later and I actually believe that I got sick twice or rather that I had two different bugs one right after the other. Things were starting to look pretty grim there at various points. One would hope that with proper sleep and cold meds and orange juice, the flu would be gone quite soon. So, when four/five days later you’re still waking up in a pool of sweat, a deluge of sweat, a gargantuan underground moon lake of SWEAT, it becomes natural to worry a bit. Like I said, there’s also additional aggrivants like paranoia and the so far unmentioned, depression, that complicate the situation and make it a bizarre solitary prison sentence, especially after day three. That we could also be victims of exposure to some bizarre government experiment, or terrorist poisoning might still be on the table but that would be a matter involving some serious national security. Enjoy your health, brethren!

Hi, sorry to be gone for so long.  That writing orgy took a lot out of me but it was very healthy and warrants a description of the experience but perhaps later.  In a nutshell, I felt this intense compulsion to participate in this  writing “contest” to write a huge bulk of stuff and I did it.  Yay!  The fact is though, 50,000 words ain’t a hell-of-a-lot and I did a superfast  calculation of a random novel, Angels and Demons and my mathless approximation came to about 175,000 words so I’m thinking that a couple more month-long binges might be in order.   Did I learn a lot of things?  Hell, yes I did.  I would recommend this task to anyone but maybe not.  It stands to reason that if you keep writing and writing you will likely learn something about yourself.  Also, learning something about yourself requires getting through some major murk.  I was actually convinced by the end that I hadn’t learned anything about myself and that I still can’t think straight about story lines that may exist in some physical place and that every character portrayed was just me.  Me in a dress, me in highschool, me as a nasty villain.  Such is, I believe, a similar way of looking at dream analysis.  I mean, all those characters are likely YOU, but when writing a book, they all have to have unique characteristics, etc.  Also, to write, you have to pay attention on a daily basis and be grounded in REALITY (should always be used in quotes) in order to notice the little ‘isms about life.  So, that right there is a quick synopsis of that experience.  It also explains how horrified I’ve been about doing a blog that I suspected nobody reads because 1. I previously had no idea about blogs WHAT-SO-EVER, and 2.  I currently have no idea about them.   In the recent months though, I have discovered some blogs that are very informative and I realize that finding a good blog can be a great resource to a person individually as they can in some ways, live vicariously through the various links and recommendations found there.  Like, you can find out about all sorts of new bands, hilarious cat pictures, and amazing information of all sorts.  Sorry to talk about what everybody already knows but it’s new to me.  This right here is Wordpress (that’s the program that this blog runs off of ) and it’s totally free to use and that is pretty damn revolutionary, if you ask me.  

Revolution:

This is something that I believe to be a very important concept.  I don’t mean marching down the street with the heads of certain a-holes on a stick… I’m talking about the shift of power over to the people.  Blogs are a perfect expression of that.  I’m learning why in new ways every day… awes!  In addition, I play in a band.  We musicians can now shift the power away from the greedy, corrupt industry that benefits us in NO WAY.  Well, maybe if we were Modest Mouse or something we wouldn’t be so jaded, but what the H?  We’re thebrotheregg and everytime someone buys one of our cds from CD baby, they’re not buying some crap at Sam Goody at the mall.  We also have mp3s, which are amazingly revolutionary.  For example, we have our new album up for FREE on a new profile site http://www.virb.com/thebrotheregg.   Hell, I run this site called “Secede from the

Anyhow, I just wanted to put something up here because the last entry was way-back-when.  This site deserves to be more, but I’m not sure what.  It’s not a political blog, per se.    Just something human, maybe.    Anyhow, thanks for reading and PLEASE FEEL FREE TO DROP A LINE of some sort.  Like, if anyone out there knows how to make these things look more kick ass, I’d sure like to know!   We’re on a quest here.  It’s a new year.   On the road to

National Novel Writing Month!  Well, November is National Novel writing Month and I must say somewhere in the back of my head this idea has been incubating and it’s likely that this challenge must be met with wild dogs and horse tranquilizers!  What: Writing one novel in 30 days, starting promptly November 1st, ending the 30th…. 50,000 words. An effort * shared * by those participating, a community of sorts… folks doing the improbable. The idea is to start AND FINISH a novel and to summarize this challenge, it’s to give a back seat to one’s inner editor that might make such a feat impossible. Our delusions of quality and purpose are TOTALLY(!) standing in the way of unadulterated doing and as this time quickly approaches I believe the challenge is eating me alive and I must do it! A novel must be written. If you haven’t heard of this contest, NaNoWriMo ( http://www.nanowrimo.org/ ) , and you are crazy enough to spend the month of November in full writing immersion, I suggest checking it out now. I just found a used copy of the companion book for the contest, No Plot? No Problem. Seeing as how plot might interfere with the act of getting the words on the paper, so-to-speak, plot will be forced to take a backseat. I think community is very important for such a conquest , so hopefully I can help drag some of my friends into this… They have the motto “…word count is king” I’ve been doing away with the inner editor lately anyway, see the recent Gomads recordings!

Creativity

will be needed to solve global problems.  Long live the creative class.  

?: (why do you keep hitting yourself… 

maybe need to take a vow of poverty…      

      poverty of

the  

soul. …stop hitting yourself)

otherwise you and me and a dog named Ghee will 

quit. 

A thought, a drink,  a thing to think

 about               -or- out loud may-bee you freeto dis-a-gree. 

To locate your own self with latitude and longitudes.

and

This brass ring thing,  it

leaves behind you with a finger of green stuff

where the ring was. 

I’m not really into politics anyway. I suppose if the shit’s going down then the shit’s going down. Is the shit going down? Who the ‘ell knows. I’m glad for those recent postings, sophomoric, as they are, sophomoric, as I am, a solid purge. Perhaps from a cocoon, a butterfly I become, one who’s parents were equal butterfly and dragon. Where is the train headed? It’s making rhythmic train sound along the way, great for a train song, in the blues form. How long does the butterfly live and what does it eat? I’ll have to read up on it, research how to live.. Where doth the train goith for weren’t it a submarine? It weren’t a tank for sure that. Perhaps we shall spend the day seeking a certain cleanliness of our surroundings before peace can even be asked hello.

With windows and roofs and wall barriers privatizing me from you, I peek. Gives off an old-timey musk everywhere does. The best minute of the day is spent giving thanks. Thanks for allowing me.

Well, sorry to drudge up this old image… Someone sent it to me recently. I’m sure we’ve all seen it before, no big deal. Maybe, if you haven’t well, here ya go. I’m an idealist at heart, with the tendency to see a macroscopic motif in a small statement or image. Yes, well this could be a viable new American Flag.. With Photoshop and all that I’m sure we could have it printed on something flag-like. Anyhow, I wanted to post it up here and give some finality to a rather directionless series of rants that aimlessly expose the fallibility of the human momentum by summarizing everything in one image, for my own therapy, principally.

I do not lay claim to liberalism or allegiance to the Democratic Party. I am using this Internet as what it should be used for, that we commoners, invisible in our daily movements, could express opinions that matter in that we are not on a payroll and are not calculating careers in media or politics. That we are victims of these things and our viewpoint is balanced in its bias, is the proclamation of this entry. I desire this image to be an epitaph to this directionless frustration, that socially and politically we do not size up to our ideals of freedom and that we are indeed moving backwards as a civilized and thoughtful people. Once again, for my own sense of finality, I desire to sum up this chaotic position with this aging photo of our president. There is a sense that a redefinition of A-list words most holy to our citizenry… Freedom, America, democracy.. have been openly mocked by these fellows. Once I make these statements, I feel they are codified and there is no further need to reiterate them. The assessment has been made, the facts internalized, the human life, the pursuit of happiness moves on…

I would like to point out that it is now July of 2007. I am reading in the news how all sorts of supporters of war, certain policy against terror, and inventors of such half-assed justifications are suddenly claiming loyalty turnabout, after a universe of sensibility has descended on all of us and this small faction of hold-outs have refused every word of it.. until now, that these people are allowed to be public in their change of heart is pathetic in its purest form. And this sort of people call themselves leaders, who’s utter lack of creativity, forethought, and leadership at crucial intervals, can be translated to nothing less than a liability to all of us, the electorate, the citizenry. They want to ‘distance themselves from the president’ before the next election or whateverthefuck. This affliction has not only insanitized politicians, but most of America has eaten this crap up too, only now contributing to this unprecedented disapproval rating many of have read about. It’s perfectly fashionable to have unfavorable viewpoints now.. Less likely of being labeled a terrorist sympathizer. Anyhow, I digress. This is a funeral service. Show some respect for the dead. Dead ideas, beaten to death and having their corpses urinated on. Being an idealist means making thoughtful decisions at every step. Don’t throw empty bud light cans in the redwoods. Turn off the fuckin’ tv. Don’t be such a tool. Don’t hit someone who contradicts your viewpoint. Don’t think so little of yourself.

One of the aspects of freedom that is hardly discussed is that it is free to give away. Anyway, enjoy the image of then governor King George the Fuck telling you what he really thinks of you, and what all the people off camera think of you. Yes, I have a sense of humor and know it was done in good fun when the cameras and lighting were being tested, that perhaps even he has a sense of humor. But, like I said, I’m willing to inflate this to the macroscopic that this ought to be our new flag so at least we aren’t fooling ourselves. Besides, red, white, and blue are bad colors together, maybe the fact that their opposites shows how radically differing viewpoints can coexist within flag defined borders, how these colors merely tolerate each other but don’t mix in any way. Tolerance being the utter lowest form of acceptance one step above lynchin’. Tolerance vs. errr, uh, what word would be used to describe a less cynical embrace of diversity..? I don’t know… not getting paid to figure this stuff out.

I’m no martyr on this matter but the first time I saw George Bush on Tv, talking and realized that he was running for President, there was an audible gasp of horror. If you didn’t feel that same gasp, at roughly that same time, you really ought to rethink yourself. I just got lucky this time, admittedly. Perhaps my upbringing, perhaps I had been bullied enough times in grade school to know the face of pure belligerent evil, is where I earned an advantage. But this man was voted into the highest office of our land not once, but TWICE by some small portion of the population that actually voted. A sad thing for all of us, and for those of us “flip-flopping” on their allegiance to this man only now… take a sad, sad, inward look. This is a disgraceful and soulless act. You’d be better off following him all the way down, to perish in historical credibility together.

If you’re walking around and you unknowingly have spinach wedged between your teeth, it is your true friends that will make you aware of it.. Your real friends will recognize that the benefits gained by sparing you any potential embarrassment far outweigh the discomfort experienced initiating this awkward conversation about spinach… thanks man.
Well, America has spinach in its teeth right now. I mean, realistically, we have more than that. We have a rich history of brutality, racism, and corruption. I would have a difficult time becoming a drunken flag-waver as a result of this baggage. I’d like to somehow communicate which America I’m flag-waving about, and herein lies a problem. It would be difficult to convey this complex national identity crisis on a bumper sticker. I have to admit that writing in a blog means that Homeland Security will flag this column for it’s potentialities. But I have to say to those officials, we intend no anti-American activity here, just to have the unpleasant conversation that we collectively have spinach in our teeth… Because we’re friends and we care.

The previous posting on this site, something about maybe America can’t actually be saved… I’ve been thinking a bit about that one. I haven’t reread it but I do want to proclaim that some of these initial posts are to be geared toward a certain sort of exorcism. This idea that “venting” is in some way therapeutic I will reject for purposes of exorcising a negative tone from this website. Venting, for the nurturing of this manifesto and it’s attempt at post-cynicism, will be regarded as a misappropriation of creative energy and a symptom of an internal constipation, and by venting I mean belligerent and petty expressions of perceptual weakness, and basic negativity without hint of a redemptive resolution. The question is, how do we use our anger, what do we do with it? If not by gradual frustrated release, how might a conscientious citizen react honorably to such horrible and degrading circumstances that mar our history and national identity? Well, perhaps by celebrating some sort of ‘detachment’ we might obtain some clarity. Now, I am not proposing abandonment and emotional withdrawal because this will be regarded as not particularly healthy for our progression toward religifying freedom and liberty. Healthy detachment is discussed extensively in eastern thinking.. Detachment is about Awareness (with a capital “A”), perhaps it is more about Clarity (with a capital “C”) . One observes a stream of changing moods that confuse subjectivity and objectivity in one’s own mind. One observes drifting and floating perceptions that are both not of the here-and-now, and are additionally preventing what one might discover as Truth with a capital “T” in a state of everyday illumination. Anyhow, as I explore the idea of secession, these ideas appear and I realize that we might become more effective at resisting and rejecting these negative aspects that co-define us if we become more open and express eternal commitment to the core essences housed in the loftiest penthouses of our humanity.

So, by ‘Maybe America can’t be Saved’, maybe I’m saying that in sorrow I sometimes feel that we’re losing the identity war to an American darkness that prospers in it’s persistant envelopment, and we are willfully allowing a shallow idiocy to define who we are as people, and to brutally rewrite our history. But, as not to be guilty of venting, it is for the purposes of awareness that we make this distinction between the multiple Americas and define what is really at stake in this war of identity. It is for us to choose. Some of the states of this union are choosing to ‘apologize’ for the occurrence of human slavery that their states participated in, leading to a civil war. Written here are baby steps who’s origin exists in the recognition of a foul history and their adolescence exists in the acknowledgement of a dark emptiness that has been ignored for far too long, and their full maturation will manifest in a new template of politics and a new resolve for an American identity that can truly lead the world by example.