Author Archives: Gabriel Thy

From the earliest episodes of my life, I was always sure to be found reading, writing, doodling, organizing, goofing, interrogating, readying, doubting, resisting, stalking and preparing the way for an artistic life not so much of grandiose deeds, but of exiled suppositions washing up against the keen but jagged shore of internal contradictions an authentic American life seems to require these days (and nights).

Since I had no natural or precocious talent for drawing, or singing, or painting, or writing for that matter, I thus fixated on the gushing fountain of ideas I discovered in leniency of books, sports, and philosophical stand-up, from I drew local inspiration and occasional comfort. A strong memory for useless and pointless knowledge mixed with a custodian's command of numbers, were my only apparent gifts, but gifts which I always imagined would take me far. Practicing these mediocre talents with a flair and flamboyance always filibustering any doubts, natural cynicism, and somber recoil of impedances I could parse for certainty has been my stock in trade, until the day when I no longer found joy in the real and sudden uselessness of it all.

In highschool creative writing class, I was always accused of and penalized for straying from the topic...

THERE WAS ALWAYS THE QUESTION of 1) purported priorities, 2) suspect qualifications and 3) undulating distortions of the gear grinding social machine that corrupted my urgency for creative expression. Nevertheless, this foul trinity of "doubts about delivery systems" stitching the social fabric from wooly to bully, served to compel my artistic inertia whenever and wherever this clinging to my guns of memory would take me.

Chapter 1. Never fails. Another fat day in the frat boy war…

Nev­er fails. Anoth­er fat day in the frat boy war zone, lov­ing­ly called The War Zone in some parts of the Deep South, finds the smil­ing pres­i­dent slid­ing anoth­er five fin­ger dis­count speech into the Mid­dle­sex Amer­i­can Saw­buck Party’s spend­ing habits, and it seems he’s tak­ing no pris­on­ers with this one. Tweet, tweet. Some prayers […]

Prologue. Events No one can rightfully remember…

Decon­struc­tion along the vines of high­er learn­ing has been well on its thorny way since Her­mes took note of slim odds on per­son­al sur­vival in a God v. Man piss­ing con­test. Try­ing to keep up the ancient façade was trou­bling enough, but when God quit talk­ing and human­i­ty wouldn’t shut up, even the trees in the […]

About The Author

From the ear­li­est episodes of my life, I was always sure to be found read­ing, writ­ing, doo­dling, orga­niz­ing, and with the most alge­bra­ic of pur­pos­es, goof­ing, inter­ro­gat­ing, ready­ing, doubt­ing, resist­ing, stalk­ing and prepar­ing the way for an artis­tic life not so much of grandiose deeds, but of exiled sup­po­si­tions wash­ing up against the keen but jagged […]