Last Seen Blogs
arni256
Unbetitelt
shoio
Atsumu Is Daddy But Kagehina >>>>
midnightdonghyun
This night, This vibe
huskymuscle
Untitled
Text
#prolife
LIFE IS THE ONLY THING WORTH VOTING FOR. AND CASTRATION.
I come from an unappologetically Democratic family, generations worth. They are also Pro- Life to various degrees, as I believe this term means different things to different individuals. Black Uhuru for instance calls all abortion “first degree murder”.
Since I was 10 years old and I had some idea of what abortion was I thought it was wrong. I think that any unprompted violence or killing is wrong. At the same time I feel that the compassion and outreach of the vocal Pro-Life camp to mothers could be better. Similarly, I believe that the “Pro Choice” camp
that plays on the devastation of women who have been raped to justify their selfish regard for infants in the womb as their own property (same argument slave owners
used to justify slavery) have lacked the initiation of any hardcore policy for men who rape, even in the age of Me Too.
Democrats and Republicans alike have yet to propose a bill mandating the castration of rapists as a deterrent for what may be may arguably be a crime worse than murder.
It was not until recently that I retraced my own opinions on regime change wars, the pimping and taunting of insane leaders with nuclear arms, terrorism, capital punishment, and abortion to realize that my voting patterns ARE Pro Life. I will always vote for who I can see will protect the most lives specific to the office he
or she runs for. Truth be told I have only voted Republican once my life ( in an Illinois Gubernatorial race, go figure).
I remain against abortion and wasting any life. We do not live in a direct democracy so I cast my vote for the candidates who protect the most human and animal lives always.
In this presidential election I fully endorse Tulsi Gabbard for president. She is Pro Choice but the lives she will save in ending regime change wars is equally important. Besides, policies and opinions can change with our politicians, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. That is something we can all agree on.
-Jeff Winkowski
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81zr8LVvaiQ
1 note
·
View note
Text
book purchase?
Hi,
Milwaukee Public Library is interested in purchasing two copies of your book. Can we order through a local bookseller, like Boswell or do you have an online vendor?
Thanks,
MPL Acquisitions Department
1 note
·
View note
Text
LIFE IS THE ONLY THING WORTH VOTING FOR. AND CASTRATION.
I come from an unappologetically Democratic family, generations worth. They are also Pro- Life to various degrees, as I believe this term means different things to different individuals. Black Uhuru for instance calls all abortion “first degree murder”. Since I was 10 years old and I had some idea of what abortion was I thought it was wrong. I think that any unprompted violence or killing is wrong. At the same time I feel that the compassion and outreach of the vocal Pro-Life camp to mothers could be better. Similarly, I believe that the “Pro Choice” camp
that plays on the devastation of women who have been raped to justify their selfish regard for infants in the womb as their own property (same argument slave owners used to justify slavery) have lacked the initiation of any hardcore policy for men who rape, even in the age of Me Too. Democrats and Republicans alike have yet to propose a bill mandating the castration of rapists as a deterrent for what may be may arguably be a crime worse than murder.
It was not until recently that I retraced my own opinions on regime change wars, the pimping and taunting of insane leaders with nuclear arms, terrorism, capital punishment, and abortion to realize that my voting patterns ARE Pro Life. I will always vote for who I can see will protect the most lives specific to the office he or she runs for.
Truth be told I have only voted Republican once in my life ( in an Illinois Gubernatorial race, go figure). I remain against abortion and wasting any life. We do not live in a direct democracy so I cast my vote for the candidates who protect the most human and animal lives always. In this presidential election I fully endorse Tulsi Gabbard for president. She is Pro Choice but the lives she will save in ending regime change wars is equally important. Besides, policies and opinions can change with our politicians, sometimes for better, sometimes for worse. That is something we can all agree on. -Jeff Winkowski
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=81zr8LVvaiQ
1 note
·
View note
Photo
Music, Fighting, and Philosophy. My podcast, FRIEND TO FRIEND IN THE END TIME: The Last Real Man, episode #2 https://anchor.fm/FRIENDtoFRIEND/episodes/Last-Real-Man-e32agv
#gita #RINGOFHONOR #DIY #PSYCHOLOGY #PHILOSOPHY #fisticarts #podcast #silasyoung (at Milwaukee, Wisconsin)
https://www.instagram.com/p/Bt4zix2n7YV/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1w0qsdg1olg1u
0 notes
Photo
Music, Fighting, and Philosophy. My podcast, FRIEND TO FRIEND IN THE END TIME: The Last Real Man, episode #2 https://anchor.fm/FRIENDtoFRIEND/episodes/Last-Real-Man-e32agv #gita #RINGOFHONOR #DIY #PSYCHOLOGY #PHILOSOPHY #fisticarts #podcast #silasyoung (at Milwaukee, Wisconsin) https://www.instagram.com/p/Bt4zix2n7YV/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=zaw7qrctbe7l
0 notes
Text
Check out my playlist on Amazon Music: Workout2
https://music.amazon.com/user-playlists/64efc1fae6de415a9b8073c22d9b7284sune?ref=dm_sh_2p8A5X90OKgG4Cd6IyWUNYADH
0 notes
Photo
GET HIH turned 2 today! Issue #1 demo copy of life, love, and regret from the Midwest to the Middle East are still available via Venmo . Merry Christmas GET-HIH WINKOWSKI23 @GMAIL.COM
1 note
·
View note
Audio
(Jeff Winkowski)
0 notes
Text
GASLIGHT
I have refrained from writing about my past or present love life on dingy blogs and certainly on social
media since these platforms are shitty forums to begin conversation.
Often we become abbreviated caricatures of who we want to be or how we want to be perceived.
But what is the best medium? A hard copy zine? An audoiobook? An autobiography would be nice had I the audience and the financial clout to do so.
Consider my life. My life is a story of some of the most beautiful, emotional, trans-formative, and devastating experiences that took in place in some of the most shitty or at least "unlikely" of places. I've heard bands as good as Led Zeppelin play in basements in rural Wisconsin. I've made fast friends for life at CBGB's, I've seen people healed of ailments and anxiety in the name of Christ in a VFW basement, and as a youth a caught a glimpse of heaven on earth with Nikki Rosenblum in the back of my dad's Dodge Charger.
One of my favorite jobs was a restaurant in a grandfathered building near Wrigley Field that still had hard wood floors in their their walkin fridge, and in their kitchen (oh, and they had rats). I've had some of the most intellectual conversations in the chair at Great Lakes Tattoo and the chair at Jose's Barber Shop.I teach math at a school that hasn't improved the decor since the 1980's but we give hundreds of inner city kids a good chance to thrive beyond the streets.
Yesterday, tears of love and humility filled up my eyes as my youngest son pointed to a brown industrial building in MKE puffing steam out from her stacks, and said,"Daddy,daddy, that's the cloud factory!"
My point is...this platform will do.
I have only been blocked on Facebook by one person: my wife.
I sat with my mom at a Starbucks and remembered a kid's birthday party my son was invited to. I tried to message my wife . Blocked.
What the fuck? I confronted her and she said, "I felt like you were harassing me." You see, occasionally I would post a picture of her looking happy and gorgeous or I would jot a few lines from a song I loved or a poem I wrote. I told her that if that is harassment then she married the wrong guy.
Call me Clarence Thomas.
I grew up in the 80's thinking of divorce as a yuppy thing, a Hollywood thing, or something you get when a man hits you and such. A "necessary evil", if you will. About half of my friends had dad's who were Viet Nam Vets, and none of my friends had parents who were divorced.
As I got older and met more people my perspective broadened of course, but it was just kind of ingrained in me that this marriage deal was serious and the one commitment you pledge to keep until death.
Conveniently the woman I married shared this point of view. She had already been married before but she was quite young and the guy smoked crack. Although friends and acquaintances warned me I was like, "everybody does stupid things. It's in the past."
Our marriage was a model one. We even counseled couples whose weddings I had officiated. We had family and non family members of all kinds over all the time. Yet we still were managing to make simple precious time for ourselves.
We both did stupid things financially, even morally (too much drinking). But there were probably only a handful of times between 2005 and 2015 when we would walk anywhere and not hold hands. I treasured every love note she sent me, every picture she drew for me, and every time she told me she loved me.
We'd say "I love you" whether I was leaving for the grocery store, she was getting on a plane, or I was going to work. It was a lifestyle of love we created and I truly meant it every time I expressed it to her.
So in early 2016 when she wanted a divorce after a few months of refrain from physical and verbal affection (which I thought might just be a stage) I was in shock. My world view was shaken. Reality was questioned. What was illusion?
What was real?
Am I a horrible person?
Is there another guy?
My head swam and the one accolade I give myself is I that held a job. Even being a waiter and a bartender was extremely hard as I was so upset that my focus on every drink I poured was a conscious and concerted effort. I had to detach.
She never gave me nor our counselor a concrete reason as to why she wanted a divorce. She did say, "I'm just over it." What the fuck?Are we 16? Also, "I feel like I've been awakened." Pray tell.
During our last session of marriage counseling the counselor pleaded for one reason why she wanted a divorce, "I don't feel safe with Jeff." To this the counselor responded, "that's all?" She had to be referring to some type of financial safety ( which doesn't exist) since I was so vocally critical of men who hit or even swore at women.
In Fall of 2015, the first sign of our union unraveling was when arguing about money ended in her crying, "I want nice things".
I felt bad. I said I'd get her the money for nice things. I've always been good at hustling. But she wanted a plan. That's all well and good but the truth is that she also wanted to see me more and unfortunately I did not know how to double my income just like that and not be working more.
By law (at least in WI) people do not need a reason to divorce. It's simple.
You do however need a reason to tell your parents and friend so you can go be free or get the new boyfriend or whatever your motivation is. In our case, she had nothing on me and never will.
I never or smoked, did drugs, and never was abusive, I served a a deacon in a church, and I never lied to her. So what was so bad about me? Why does she look at me with disgust? Why does she freeze up when I hug her? It makes no sense at all. So I started to believe her bullshit. "Maybe I am a loser."
I thought about a lot of things way too much! Maybe I was right to feel wrong when I was a little nervous kid and wondered why I was more interested in fashion than football. I felt alone. In ten years I had lost touch with many friends as I was focused on my family.
Suddenly I was in a living Hell.
Once, in early 2016 I took her shoe shopping in Chicago and brought our two children along. Yes, I'm a sadist. Our eldest boy was a the peak of this hitting stage he was going through. He hit me about 150 times that day and after dropping an occasional line from Mr. Rogers or Christ I started getting pissed. Besides there is no fun or food in women's shoe stores. At the car, after punch 151, I picked
my son up by his jacket and screamed in his face with the tone of my old football coach, "You do not ever hit your daddy!"
The next day she said that this was the last straw and considered my actions abusive. All bullshit. But she knew my sensitivity and how much I loved my kids. So even though we both knew she was full of shit it still bothered me. She knew how to get to me.
Now she could try to use my temper against me. Heaven forbid we include anger in the spectrum of emotions.
We were quickly divorced and I spent a lot of money on my lawyer because I needed someone to look at my situation objectively.
Somewhere inside her was a girl I knew, who loved me for me, who was in trouble and I wanted to help. I couldn't stop my hamster wheel of thoughts.
Weeks after the divorce, coincidentally she sent me a text that she was engaged to a guy she met at her work while we were married.
The speed, lack of transition and sneakiness was all so very confusing to me. What to speak of for my children? To be honest, they are more resilient than I. And I will never disrespect their mother before them.
I have been spending too much time alone and at home in books the last couple years. But the time has come to wear my heart on my sleeve again. To have hope. To not give a fuck what anyone thinks or says because I have nothing to hide and every word I say is true. The truth sets us free.
More than that I have things to offer my self, my kids, and the world. I'm an upstart. I'm a messenger.
Life and Love,
Jeff Winkowski
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
MKE Alternative Left Presents: "History, Hooligans, and Hardcore Walking Tour": 04/22/2017
In the 1990's there was no nucleus of counter culture better suited and more centrally situated than that of the North Ave. Water Tower Park and the blocks we'd walk on the way to Prospect, Farwell,and Oakland Avenues which had all we needed from records, books,films, and zines to live music, punk paraphernalia, and vegetarian food from Beans and Barley, Seventh Day Adventist free picnics, and later at Comet Cafe. Historically, Milwaukee has had an underwhelming skyline as most of the wealthy industrialists chose to go against the grain of Milwaukee's socialist fabric and invest heavily in their personal estates. In a strange twist of fate, many of these mansions have become businesses or museums of interior design for the greater good. Many in this neighborhood. Most of these homes were built by the well off Germans who wanted to reflect the feel of the prosperous industrial and mercantile classes back home. They did a good job until WWI came around and the German renaissance style was swiftly replaced by a strong modernist influence in architecture. Regardless of style, these often avant gard masterpieces were of no contribution for the people if MKE but just for each family's personal glory. It was up to small business owners to create cafes, theatres, record stores and boutiques and to maintain the neighborhood's more historic buildings with a progressive fervor perhaps inherited by the likes of mayors Berger, and Zeidler. While I may have been part of the glory days of the neighborhood between 1991 and 1999, seeds of progress had been planted well before I was born. My hope is that though the walking tour these places and the stories I share will not be forgotten and that new seeds will be planted and scattered elsewhere in this city, providing us with a long standing culture and an extended soundtrack that is made in Milwaukee. The tour begins at 11a.m. on 4/22/2017 at Water Tower Park. The cost of the tour is a suggested $20 donation which covers your limited edition circa 1990's map done by cartographer Erik Frankhouse as well as a copy of my new zine, "Get Hih", my reflections and some previously published work executed while living at the Sydney Hih building. Walk Among Us. Be Well, Jeff Winkowski Spring 2017.
#walkingtour#modernism#punk#1990s#Milwaukee#hardcore#skinhead#graffiti#germania#rape#veganfood#midwest#historical society#record store day#zines#zinesters#fonzie#polishboy
0 notes
Photo
After The Unicorn Closed, The Globe East was the place to be!
1 note
·
View note
Photo
MKE 1990's HISTORY OF THE ALTERNATIVE LEFT/HARDCORE WALKING TOUR. TBT #GETTINGSTOKED #alternativeleft #jeffwinkowski #MILWAUKEE #bardzo #compoundred #loomis #dis #asanas #victoryrecords #krsna #walkingtours #low #brianwilson #spraypaint #flipside #orientaldrugs
#loomis#walkingtours#brianwilson#orientaldrugs#flipside#jeffwinkowski#asanas#victoryrecords#alternativeleft#bardzo#krsna#low#compoundred#milwaukee#spraypaint#gettingstoked#dis
0 notes
Text
Chapter 2, Young, Poor, and Jewish In my initial year at UWM I took two semesters of Biblical Hebrew language under Dr. Bernard Grossfield. Some of that era of the tongue translated to contemporary conversational Hebrew which I was able to use in my daily dialogue with an elderly Palestinian coworker. I went on in the Religious Studies program to study with Rabbi Dana Evan Kaplan who I became friends with. At the time he was writing a book called, American Reform Judaism: An Introduction ( Rutgers University Press) which was to become highly esteemed in academic circles. I never wanted to move from Milwaukee but I knew it was time to travel. I narrowed my destinations down to India and Israel. Israel won out. I met Dana for lunch at Shaharazad restaurant to talk about it. He thought it was a great idea and cool that I had no plans and just a few loose contacts in The Holy Land. At the time I had very little money. Dana told me exactly what to do. "Go to the old city. People are going to ask you if you are Jewish. Just tell them your mother is Jewish. You know more about Judaism than most Jews." "But I have tattoos. I don't even look Jewish." "I didn't say you were a good Jew" I knew he was right. I needed to turn this head knowledge into experiential knowledge. Without doing so there would be no insight into first hand experience as a Jew. This was education and investigative journalism at once. The more I gave whole heartedly of myself as a Jew, the more I knew about being a Jew, and the more of a Jew I became. Believe your own bullshit. Dana told me some very specific things that came to manifest in Israel. For example, I would meet a guy at The Wall named Jeff Seidel who would ask if I would like a place to stay and I could stay with a religious family and study with them. This came to pass and so did some other interesting things. My first stop was in Tel Aviv where I'd to stay with a punk rocker I met in a punk chat room. Our connection was a n anarchist punk band whose 1994 record I had by some Jewish Israeli's called Nekhei Na'atza AKA Renounce Judaism. Like a lot of American punk bands, I thought they were fast and thought provoking but if they believed in what they politically espoused they were painting with some broad strokes. To a large degree it was just another shock tactic, one that got them recognition in Israel and on talk shows where religious Jews tried to "deprogram" them. Believe it or not, pre-911 Israel didn't have a lot else going on as far as a hardcore scene.When I arrived the guys at the squat treated me like I was some sort of ambassador. They really rolled out the cat haired red carpet for me. These guys were so crusty one dude's deadlock fell off. I got up from the chair at the kitchen table after my NesCafe and my butt had a mustache. Their record collections were really small and they were stoked to get some presents I had for them them from the States like the new Shelter, a Sensefield/Jimmy Eat World split 7", EVEL (from Milwaukee), and the Destroy LA 7" from Pressure. They liked the Pressure 7" right away and were pretty open to the other music as well. After taking a walk one of the guys took me aside and told me seriously that that the world would be a better place if the US were blown off the face of the Earth. He wanted me to meet with this guy who he said was the king of the punks in Tel Aviv. I wasn't interested. There was a lot of partying going on that night in the streets because The Maccabees professional basketball team ( part of the European league) just won a big championship title. I slept for a few hours then sneaked out with all my stuff. I slept on a jungle gym and wound up getting this rash called "wrestlers back" from that or the squat: a bunch of gross boils all over my back. I was low on money from the start so I decided to walk to Jerusalem and hitch hike if need be as I heard it was safe to do so. I calculated in my mind that it was only 40 miles which was way off. But the major roads were lined with grapefruit trees and orange groves. I didn't want to steal so I was eating warm, sun drenched oranges and grapefruit that fell off the trees. I hitched a ride in a van after the first 15 miles and got into an argument in Hebrew with the driver. It seems hitch hiking in Israel is safe because you are expected to pay. I told him I wasn't going to pay him one shekel since we were going to the same place. He was pissed but didn't kick me out. The kids in the back seat were cool. An orthodox family, one of the young boys asked if I liked Tu Pac. No matter where I seemed to go on this journey Palestinian and Israeli kids seemed to share a love and excitement for Tu Pac. When I got dropped off I found a grocer and bought a bottle of water. I started walking toward sights I'd seen in books: the mosque with the gold dome (which holds the slab of rock Abraham was going to sacrifice Isaac on), The Wall. A conservative guy with a yarmulke, white shirt, and black pants was coming home from work to his apartment and asked me in a New York accent if I was lost. I told him I wanted to get to The Wall before sundown as it was Friday. He invited me up to their apartment where I got to meet his young wife and baby son who I got to hold and play with. He prayed over me and gave me a yarmulke which was not real effective because I had a shaved head. It turned out he knew my friend Raphael's relatives in New York and our mothers were both from Sheboygan. He showed me a a haunting photo of his mom's dad visiting his home town in Latvia that was totally reduced to rubble by the Nazi's. I'm not sure why the guy felt compelled to return. My mother's family is Lithuanian, from that same region of the Europe I knew next to nothing about at the time. The couple sent me on my way with a bag of groceries, mostly native oranges and Israeli chocolates. I was so happy to have food. When I got to the wall it was as predicted I met Jeff Siedel. I wanted to go pray but he wanted to talk to me about the Chicago Blackhawks who were not doing so well at the time. There were so many cute girls there. I looked kind of awful, like a sun burnt skinhead. But the girls were all really sweet and nice to me. Most of them wore long conservative dresses. A few of them kept asking me about my tattoos. There was a group of men praying with some old scrolls. This guy with a beard who was about my dad's age asked if I was married. I told him no. "Well maybe you just haven't met the right girl." "Yeah, well that's the whole trick isn't it." These people were OG. Seidel wrote a name and address on a piece of paper for me of an elderly man and woman who I would have dinner with and stay with. I got to the apartment which reminded me of a clean early 20th century apartment in NYC except cobble stone streets below, less sirens, and more sounds of people praying and singing. The meal itself took hours. I turned down the boiled chicken that was sitting out for three hours. But the wine was delicious. I was really poor at reading from the prayer books in Hebrew but they were patient with me, like loving grandparents. I asked the man why in earlier times miracles occurred like parting of the red sea. People, as he explained were more in touch with nature, with God then. Even the most depraved person had a sense of reverence for that which could not be explained. Today we credit meteorology as a logical science, more believable than God even while fifty percent of people complain about the weather man getting shit wrong half the time. Perfect Deity, developing science. When it came time to bid farewell the next day I wanted to give the matriarch a hug but there seemed to be some rule against it. But I got a strong sense of love from them and some solid handshakes. They even gave me money. I hit the streets and saw the sights. The hottest chicks around were the Israeli Army girls. All these girls were my age and wore grunge styled army fatigues and held Uzis that were attached to a strap that went around there necks. I guess I have a little Ted Nugent in me. I don't know why but if you put a gun on an already hot girl she becomes totally hot. It's a weird phenomenon. I'm weird. I figured I may as well do something positive with my time. I saw a sign that said "Emergency Clinic" in English then something in Arabic outside the City's Jewish quarter. I had just gotten a CPR and first Aid certification from the American Red Cross before I came over. Maybe they could use some help with all the fighting. I didn't see any bloodshed but there was a really high tension in the air as Jews interacted cordially yet cautiously with Palestinians and vice versa. I can imagine it was a similar "in the air tonight" feeling prevalent during the American years of segregation down south. I saw some Arab kids playing with guns, hiding around the corner and shooting at one another. I wondered how long before they would be carrying guns for real. The thought bummed me out. I got to the clinic and it appeared to be run by Muslims because I didn't see anybody there except some shoes on what looked like a Moroccan rug. Out of nowhere two guy ran out of the clinic in white robes pointing Uzis at me. The head guy from the clinic (I was later lead to assume) walked up to me with a Chinese AK and pointed it at my forehead. Realizing I didn't speak their native tongue the head honcho asked what the fuck I was doing there. I told him I was just seeing if they needed any help. It was confusing to him. He grabbed my wrist and asked me what the Hebrew tattoo meant on it. I told him it was one of the Hebrew words for meditation from the Bible. Ironically I got it done in NYC by Tee Schwartz , a skinhead from Milwaukee. Honcho told his buddies to go back in the clinic and started talking to me about meditation. He said his brother was into meditation. He told me to be more careful because he was about to shoot me. It was all good. To be honest, I did not feel scared for one second. I was on Holy ground. One of my last stops that day was at the Garden of Gethsemane, where Jesus was betrayed by Judas Iscariot. I saw Reggie White from the Green Bay Packers there which was awesome and I got my picture taken with him. Nobody else knew who he was. A few Israeli soldiers thought I was getting my picture taken with him because he was a black giant. They told me there was an even bigger black guy there a few days earlier. What the hell is wrong with these people? It's Reggie White! Seeing him made me homesick. I was already missing Milwaukee, my apartment, and my 13" TV set. I was leaving Jerusalem with more money I had arrived with on account of the nice people I met. I got a shuttle to Tel Aviv and flew to Amsterdam, then home.
0 notes
Text
Another Ottophile! Bless you dear!
Numinous
I learnt of a word fairly recently that has been important to me for longer than I’ve actually known of its existence. Numinous is an adjective usually attached to experiences in which a person feels to be in communion with something wholly other. The numinous has both an element of fear and fascination. It can be peaceful, tranquil and deep, or vibrant and resonant, or violent and erupting, or transporting and full of intoxicated frenzy and ecstasy. It might occur when you see an overwhelming piece of architecture, or the aurora borealis, or perhaps when you hear an absolutely inspired piece of music. I remember a psychology lecturer once described this exact feeling, but gave it the name of ‘peak experience’. It essentially is those moments which make you say 'wow’, and mean it, completely.
The numinous usually has spiritual and religious connotations because so often these feelings are given the name of God. But that’s all it is really, just a name. I feel these intense moments of awe and fascination just as much as a religious person would, but I don’t attribute them to the hand of God. To be overwhelmed by the world is a sign of our humanity, and that doesn’t make it any less amazing.
26 notes
·
View notes
