Anti Void

Joined July 2024

12 stories

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knowledge + experience
I didn’t get to go outside today because of the rain, I suppose I could have just walked on out there and have gotten soaked to the bone, it would have been fine, I would have survived — if I were all dried up and parched in a desert I would have welcomed the rain, desired it even — I guess it’s all about perspective…I wonder if I’ll ever actually be in a desert, like in my lifetime, I wonder if I’ll ever even be truly thirsty, or truly hungry for that matter — I’m thirsty for something, I know that, I can feel it, I think it’s knowledge, but it could be power too — imagine if we could get knowledge and power on tap like we do water, just fill up a glass whenever you feel like, add a little lemon wedge to it, a few ice cubes — a fresh chilled cup of power, a frosty glass of knowledge… I don’t want knowledge without experience, though — you want a story to go along with it, you always have to have something to say to people, adds mystique or excitement to your otherwise ordinary life commentary — enhances the whole comedy of self, so yeah, there you go, stay thirsty, tap the power, get knowledge + experience which equals story, and there you have it, the sense that you’re some kind of interesting person after all, well you are, aren’t you? I don’t know…I just don’t know…
By Anti Void about a year ago in Poets
what else do you want me to say?
the goddess holds her pineapple staff as she lets her children through the castle gates… Homer holds a game controller and the triangle button is sticky from extended play… the Classics are always lost on the younger ones as they find the newest good stuff on their own… why do noses get bigger and ears grow fuzzy when a human reaches elder form? chicken drumstick, chicken parm, no matter what the shape, it started out on a farm… why are there so many spinoffs of The Walking Dead? which one to watch, and which to skip? beats me… I took a cold shower today because the bathroom was hot as balls — I like drying off in a towel when no one’s home… the news tells us we must be on alert and be rid of all the spotted lantern flies, but don’t tell anyone — because I’m secretly on their side! Ha… no, I won’t squish it! I can’t even step on an ant! they work so hard after all… let them live their lives — live and let live is how I like to live, and if you think otherwise, well, man, you are a control freak and have some issues, seriously… what else do you want me to say?
By Anti Void about a year ago in Poets
brute force isn’t the way
there are problems that require physical strain and then there are the ones that require a little finesse… some predicaments are more involved than you think… there’s a complication to it that you just can’t see clearly because maybe you’re too close or too set in a certain way of thinking… this nearsightedness will be the downfall of you so step back, my friend, and view the whole scene for what it is— take it all in — see that forest, baby, and get off your damn tree! you can’t brute force your way through every problem to where you’re literally all effort and no sense… this can be a nice life, the resources are there — the help is there — busting your ass is pointless just for the sake of it — you have to be smart about it …all the effort in the world won’t change anything if there’s no logic or strategy to it… there’s trying and then there’s doing what’s right… let’s get ourselves cleaned up, you hear, let’s live a harmonious life — we owe it to ourselves…don’t we?
By Anti Void about a year ago in Poets
hijacked attention
oh my god leave me alone please, just let the air cleanse itself of sound… my attention is not to be hijacked at your every whim… I’d like to have an afternoon of nothingness, of some kind of internal bliss, of sacred unperturbed ness my thoughts, they gurgle — I need Pepto for my brain… it’s the sound outside clashing with the curse of your incessant cries, your barrage of foolishly petulant whys and the chorus of hate-filled diatribes… I can’t take it it’s too much nonsense for me to process, a flood of obnoxious streams (no, sludge) of heavy consciousness, somehow housed outside your dense and impenetrable skull… I need a fence, no a wall, or a barrier, a shield, something to protect my mind, to prevent the theft, this constant larceny of my attention
By Anti Void about a year ago in Poets
lool at his face
and what are you going to do about my boyfriend’s pimple? he hasn’t had a zit like that on his face in twenty years — he spends one night on your filthy-ass sheets and now he’s got a damn pimple the size of Rhode Island on his cheek! so what are you gonna do about that, huh? we spend so much money on this damn place, and we’ve been coming here for years, and fucking Taylor Swift, and my mom and my grandpa and my freakin’ little brothers all spent less money than me on their rooms, which were totally nice and had just as great a view of the beach, and, like, what do I get? I mean, our room wasn’t even as good as theirs, I feel like, and there was some kind of gross food on the ground near the bed, like peppermints covered in saliva, or I don’t know — my boyfriend said it looked like old stale apple jacks, maybe… and oh my god the ice bucket — there was like a cup of yellow rancid lemonade or some shit, I mean for all I know it could have been a literal cup of piss — was it piss? huh? did one of your guests piss in a plastic disposable cup and leave it in the ice bucket inside our closet, huh?? yes, we’d like to talk to the manager — oh, and there were like bugs everywhere, like all kinds of flying insects — and this slow meandering fly that just wouldn’t quit — it didn’t even leave the room when I opened the patio door! and come on, just-like, mosquitos everywhere, and Taylor Swift, and come to think of it, the freakin’ thing on my boyfriend’s face — it could be like a giant bug bite, you know, maybe one of your big ass hotel bugs bit him hard on the cheek, and it’s like not even a zit at all! but like some kind of epic bug bite… I used like half my concealer on him trying to cover it up so he wouldn’t seem like a freak and go to dinner looking like the toxic avenger — you think they’re gonna serve him 50 dollar spaghetti bolognese with a zit like that on his face?? huh? I mean what are you gonna do for us? can we get a free night, a discount? Taylor Swift? some kind of reimbursement of fees or something!? come on… look at his face
By Anti Void about a year ago in Poets
grimy books and filthy dvds
sticky covers and dog-eared pages, I wonder how many nasty hands touched this thing before me, this borrowed tome, this library loan, like, what even is this stain? I don’t like that it looks sorta orange like Cheeto dust, or look here, this brown spot, maybe it’s barbecue sauce? and these random off-color splotches of grease — okay, I just gotta read a little more, get a little deeper to the unsullied pages at the center, where the plot gets thicker, the pages get cleaner — after all, most punks who start books don’t really finish them, these grimy books, ughhh and ickkk, these fucking pages are making me sick… I can’t think too much about it, okay it’s nice when you get a sort of new-ish hardcover, but the soft covers, forget it — it’s nacho city, tattered and shitty… but what can I say, I’m broke now and I’ve already spent like half my life’s earned income at Barnes & Noble — can’t be doing that shit no more… and these lovely library books, THEY ARE FREE, my thirst for literature must be quenched somehow — so I revel in these dirty, disgusting, filthy but amazing books — shared amongst the unwashed masses, the anonymously literate collective of this weird little city where I find myself living right now…. thank god! thank god for The Library, that’s right, that’s a lower case ‘g’ and an upper case ‘L’, hallelujah for Free Media! who needs a streaming platform that won’t even let you share passwords when you have anything you want on unlimited inter-library loan! OK maybe some of this shit is a little lower-definition because it’s like old format, you know — DVDs don’t look so great no more on HD TVs, but come on, the director’s commentaries alone make up for it, don’t they? don’t they???? ha, yeah, well here’s my card, lady — I know I got like ten things checked out already and like half of them are past due, and yes, I’m checking out more, but you guys got rid of late fees, not me … what is this, Blockbuster back in 2003? that shit is music to my ears… do I want a brand new bookmark with that? hellll yesss I do! lay it on me, please, oh library lady, lay it on me…
By Anti Void about a year ago in Poets
literature = everything
books in a bin so many in the queue can’t read them as fast as I buy ’em and yet I still want more wanna borrow more want to smell them more want to feel their lovely weight in my hand… some days you want a light skinny one — finish it in a week other days I want some meat, some heft to get the biceps going to keep me lost for months… certain ones feel better than others — texture matters but not as much as the richness of character or the elegance of plot I like voice, first person flame but third is good too… give me all of it to make my piles, my stacks! upon completion I brag! like anyone even cares haha like it matters worth a damn who even reads, right? you do well, you better if you’re here then you know it this literature thing is everything
By Anti Void about a year ago in BookClub
I have trouble fitting in.
Dear friend, I often look at other people’s lives and feel weird that I seem to be standing still while they race toward a finish line I didn’t even know existed. I don’t go to parties. I’m never invited to political events. Or events in general, usually. I don’t know how to schmooze or make contacts or be in a group-chat or a discord (I don’t even what that is) or secret peer group. Most of my friends are just people who haven’t given up on me in spite of myself. Sometimes I wish I could send out a note to them to tell them that I love them even though I haven’t spoken to them in months or even years. I wonder if they know how much they mean to me in spite of the anxiety that makes me hide away so often? I wonder if they know about the long imaginary talks we have in my head?
By Anti Void about a year ago in Art
die trying, die walking
am I getting too old to be the thing I want to be am I taking too long to prove I’ve got what it takes at what point do you stop and say, well there you go, that’s just how it’s gonna be… do I pack it in and call it a fucking day? or do I die walking, die trying, meet the grave with a sort of grandeur stamped into the grooves of my frozen face you tell me… what difference does it make if I’m thirty-eight and find myself unsure about what to say when I’m asked what I do at a party or some other bullshit social event… what difference does it make, if you don’t see it, don’t get it, don’t recognize the value in a leap of faith even full-grown men have the right to shoot for the stars that’s not merely a children’s game I will not discourage you, so don’t look at me like that, like you think it’s too damn late… dreaming isn’t for the young, it’s for everyone— don’t tell me yearning is for those who don’t know any better, because you’re wrong! you don’t need to be born after 2002 to be under the impression that this world can ever get any better than this counterfeit stage we’ve turned it into — any life can change at any time! the best years don’t always have to be seen from behind… so do me a favor, and just look away move your haughty gaze to another direction because I don’t care what you think… I like being this way I like seeing the grey it’s a beautiful thing to cruise into maturity, into the abyss of uncertainty with the outlook of a fresh soul… so I don’t know about you but I’ll die trying, I’ll die walking
By Anti Void about a year ago in Poets
borrow to learn
If you have to borrow to learn — borrow to earn, then tomorrow’s your turn to pay for the knowledge that should’ve been free.
By Anti Void about a year ago in Poets
different kind of strengths
leave these skilled thinkers to their own devices, I say — leave them to their talents… there are different kinds of strengths, so why do we value certain kinds while we diminish others? being able to put up with a ton of shit and keep moving forward, that’s its own kind of aptitude — that’s its own kind of strength… you can work and become stronger at things, you can improve yourself at any time, at any stage, but don’t fret, don’t let the world tell you how you don’t measure up… the people out there, they only pay attention to a few types of skills, they only value certain kinds of intelligence, certain kinds of force, but don’t let anyone tell you how weak you are… everyone deserves more than making the best out of a bad situation, how bout actually giving a damn, and telling people they can have a good situation… life isn’t about settling for the tolerable… but I know, some people just aren’t in a place to fight for something different, maybe their current state of affairs is too stifling, too enfeebling… how bout you hover over the truth a little bit, and pay closer attention to what is going on I don’t want to disintegrate and neither do you, but there’s an absurdity to the way life is now that I think is lost on a lot of people — listen, they will do all they can to nullify you so, don’t let that happen
By Anti Void about a year ago in Poets
if all you saw was soul
If all you saw was soul, there’d be far fewer mix-ups No one would care if there was a hair out of place or a blemish on a face If all you saw was soul, we’d trust a little better, feel a little deeper You might even be a better sleeper We’d ignore the petty and the inconsequential — physical things that deceive the eyes You wouldn’t care what society and culture and intellect had to say If all you saw was soul, there’d be fewer clouds in your way Only sun and love, honor and heart That’s what we’d be speaking of instead of ‘she’s too this’ and ‘he’s too that’, or ‘you’re too thin’ or ‘they’re too fat’ No ‘Jill’s too tall’ or ‘Jack’s too short’ You’d never think to say, ‘Oh, I’ll never let so-and-so through my door’ Now, I’m not talking some dualist shit or some religious blah, blah, blah I’m talkin’ soul as the inner core the truth of who you are If all you saw was soul then, let’s face it, you’d never ask for more
By Anti Void about a year ago in Poets