JOSH CLARK






My name is Josh Clark. And I do what I do because I don't know what I'm doing. I was paralyzed at a young age due to an abstraction of perspective that we (humans, western, euro-descent) force unto our children. Whatcha wanna do when you grow up? Well I've never truly grown up. I've never had the answer. But I've been shaping the answer this whole time. I've got 30+ years invested into answering that question. I've discovered that what I'm doing is defining my own American dream. But it's my waking reality. So the juxtaposition between this fantastic dream world and the socioeconomic matrix of this society I've been born into is quite challenging. Throw on top conflicting (apparent) views created from privilege of white and male in a place steeped in the culture clash of American values. Anything south of the Mason Dixon and quite a few places otherwise gone unnoticed or mentioned. And you have the soup of the swamp I was raised. And it takes a very trained linguist to actually place my locality of birth and growth. I like to play a guessing game. I give them one guess. Which state am I from? Very few guess correctly. But the answer is simple. I'm from the Delta. Can I help ya? I know the delta. I know the fear and the joy. I know why the blues were born and I know why they are still felt to the day. And I also know the red travesty. Of how this swamp was drained. Not just of water but of red men. And blood was spilled. And it's still being spilled. But they are survivors. We have yet to see what happens to us whypipo. Politically I'm what's called a #silverspring. Ideals and planks from the Green and blue. Combined as colors flashing. Thanks fleetwood. Because the ones who claim to be able to bring us to the black, financially, have taken on the color red. And in business don't want to be in the red. But they pretend they're doing the best of things. Like draining swamps.... I'm so tired. I'm tired of grown adults telling us children are the future with one breath then switching cheek and telling us that they're not ready to hand over the reins?! Meanwhile, the dinosaur titty is dry... and we're all about to die.






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