Michael Brown


I walk into the room and see them and
smile and put down my bag and say
“Hey” and they frown and they say
“Did ya’ hear?” and I shake my head and
wait—

I know before they say it—something in the back of me,
like an SMH tweet I read the next morning about “Progress”
and Rodney King on a monitor half the size of the table
when Jenny asks “Why they do that, teacher?”
and I’m already into the middle of the week—
after the 10 freeway’s been shut down and Aaron says
“They need to take the protest to people who don’t want to hear it!”

Trying to find the right poem for another class—
I read Donald Glover’s tweets about being a “big white rapper”
and I laugh and think that’s the perfect one:

For someone who laughs and bumps students around him after Billy Elliot kisses a boy, until an older girl in the theater shouts 
that he’s “out of control” and we know her idea of “control”
is the same as ours without saying it.

For Ahman, I think.

I copy and paste the piece into MS Word and think about what they will say all the way down Wilshire into the Language School, where Jenny tells us what she thinks of America and back across Rossmore to the performing arts college where they sit with their backs to me—

and I wonder if I make any difference at all when Jenny says she is “a feared” when she walks to the subway at night and “America is no freedom” and Colby asks me “Why?” and Aaron says “I don’t know why they expected it to be any different?” and

I just say “maybe” and “I don’t know” and “Mmm” because my heart pounds the same rhythm it always has—ever since 1984 when that man refused to cut my hair and I understood difference wasn’t inside me, but something I was told based on who was looking—when the wound was passed without knowing better than to ignore it—

Ffffth Kkkolock: Prologue

I woke up. It was too hot. I went back to bed. These are three sentences about life in the 21st Century posted to a social media site. They will be analyzed in binary code by a distant alien race many centuries from now. The first scientist to examine the note is curious what a "bed" is. He/she -- for it's anatomy is not gender specific -- cross-references the word "bed" with other relevances and decides incorrectly that it means "bobsled." This creates a minor debate between another colleague -- for the sake of this tale let's call it M. -- who believes that a "bobsled" is actually "bobsled," because M accessed some more code and pieced together snippets of the Disney film "Cool Runnings" as proof.
         Now, our original scientist -- let's call he/she Proletariat #1, believed that "bed" was "bobsled" because of a hidden hope that the original message did indeed involve bobsleds. Proletariat #1, unbeknownst to M, had seen his/her assemblage of snippets of "Cool Runnings" and liked the image of an unknown entity waking up and going back to sleep in a bobsled. This was considered amusing.
            M did not find this type of scientific data misalignment to be humorous. In fact, such jokes were not part of the cultural make-up of their species. Most -- let's call them Khadaffis - Khadiffis were absolutely no fun and spent most of their adult lives studying scientific data or having intercourse with one another. The latter was considered a job, so no enjoyment was ever derived. Also, since each Khadiffi had both male and female organs intercourse between other Khadiffis was redundant, so most acts took place between data collection to conserve time and energy for additional data collection.
            Naturally, the Khadiffi population was sizable. There were over a trillion Khadiffis living on a series of planets closest to what human scientists would call the Andromeda Strain, but have not been identified by name, so let's make things easy and use the Khadiffi term for the word "planet," which can be roughly pronounced as "Ffffth Kkkolock" just to throw in an actual word once in a while into this story to confuse future Khadiffis who might be reading this and offer them a moment's pause as they decipher...
            The Khadiffi on Ffffth Kkkolock had discovered Google by accident during a data mining experiment with a sonar device that was supposed to obtain information on mountain ranges in the American Midwest. They were quite surprised by the vast stores of code -- miles upon miles of it. Once M's ancestors had pieced together Google as a number, they had made it a population goal along with a data collection aspiration. It was actually offered as a type of proverb that can be translated roughly as: "Khadiffis need to procreate to reach a Google population, as they decipher all of Google to be considered true scientists."
            This is all based on my rough approximation, so the proverb doesn't necessarily make sense to us, but it made absolute sense to Khadiffis. You see, it was a mathematical game: if X is the number of aliens produced, as well as the size and name of the data translated, then the production of aliens to match the production of translation would make Khadiffis "successful" and "better than other" living beings throughout this and other galaxies.
            I know what you're thinking, "Why would anyone want such a marker of success?" Well, every culture is different. Here, in the 21st Century, many human beings consider "success" to be earning a certain amount of wealth or being seen by others on television or online videos. This would be preposterous to a Khadiffi, and naturally, they would be just as dumbfounded as you might be as what is considered "successful" in their culture. If you spent some time on Ffffth Kkkkolock, you may or may not agree with what the Khadiffi deemed as a goal for their species, but if you wanted to live alongside them, you had to actually go along with success as a concept, because, otherwise the system would collapse.
            Likewise, the human system needs its believers for consumer culture. This is also why many of you might be wondering why one of our own would attempt to travel to Ffffth Kkkkolock and retrieve any of this information in this first place. I, for one, am with you. I have no idea why anyone would care about distant alien cultures. I, myself, am consumed by human trappings, because I have been raised so well to love all things human. I love Big Macs, Kentucky Fried Chicken, women, strollers, headphones, Apple and apples, clotheslines, and other things human.
            I am, in essence, much like other humans on Earth. However, there is a slight difference -- and this is where our tale may receives its twist -- I am not entirely human. I was placed here by the Khadiffi people as an experiment close to 38 Earth years ago. My main objective, which was programmed into me around the age of 12 years old, was to radically oppose the social systems in which I operated, until I would be able to achieve "success" in Earth terms for my resistance but also my existence, and ultimately fulfill a Khadiffi prophecy that there would be one genetically engineered "human" who would be "human successful," but also achieve the ultimate "Khadiffi success" by creating his own code that would then be translated many thousands of years later on Ffffth Kkkkolock and reveal the ultimate truth of all existence for all things -- inanimate and animate -- everywhere.
            This is that starry-eyed story. It shall be told in approximately 300 pages and include drawings, videos, hyperlinks, strange translations, Khadiffi history and poetry, and eventually, and, most importantly, lead, when pieced together, to the ultimate truth to existence, so that Khadiffis can once again rejoice and find another pastime besides data collection, or likewise, humans can give up "success" for something less successful.

            That is the end of the prologue. Our story will begin in six Earth minutes and is often written as 00:06:00 in digital time on watches and Khadiffis' favorite Earth program "The Blacklist."

Mark White interviews Darrah Belle, Hannah Elizabeth Pierce, and myself about Zombie Bounty Hunter M.D. Then Whodini entertains us all by letting himself get stapled by the ladies. Click the link to listen and watch the podcast.

LINK: http://www.skidrowstudios.com/darkmark/2014-10-03/38198/dark-mark-show-zombie-sideshow-pirooz-kalayeh-darrah-dejour-hannah-elizabeth-pierce-whodini-1692

Loren Goodman's Top 500 Songs: 301-310

Loren Goodman began curating his top 500 songs in 2008. This installment includes Al Green, Dolly Parton, 2NE1, and more.


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Loren Goodman's Top 500 Song: 311-320

Loren Goodman began curating his top 500 songs in 2008. He offers an installment here on Shikow when he feels it's right.

To learn more about Loren's work, you can visit here or here.

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Viral Leak: Possibly H7N9!!

This is real! I repeat REAL!! I know all you haters think we made this shit up, but there are real mutations happening near Palmdale. We were driving up to shoot some stuff for another company when we heard about this sewage leak up near 14 North right before Lancaster.

From what we've found on the Internet, this is real. You can look here and here. Both have journal reports about how Avian Influenza A may have started the condition.

Some are saying that it is associated with the virus in the frost those scientists found. Personally, I think it has to do with fracking. The Earth has a way of fighting back, ya know?

We're going to head up there again to get more footage. I'll post videos here.