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Articles by Sam Spinelli
Serpents
”you’ve changed” And isn’t that a good thing! Hashtag blessed The old you had some pieces to shed Some pieces to put to death Some pieces you never want to see again Did it hurt When you put in the work To shelf every piece of self That no longer served the you you wished to be? Did it hurt when you sloughed off those unwanted layers, Did it hurt when you twitched and shirked and wiggled your way out of that confinement Out of the skin that no longer fit?
Nerves, loose or spindled
All it takes is an unwanted thought to screw its way into my brain and leave a threaded hole If you look close, you’ll see little snarls of dendrite See how my neurons cosplay as cobwebs?
Woke
She hears him, howling beyond her door. She feels the room shake, as he batters the frame. She stumbles back, back, back— till her shoulders slam against the wall. Why would a New Deputy say please? She hears him again: “Police! I said lemme in you cunt!” Not that she has done anything illegal. Like most women, she has become an expert in the law— reading each new proclamation as soon as it goes live. She’s worn her cross and habit every time she’s gone outdoors.
I should never have taken this job
Please forgive typos and the rambling. I’m freakin out and im sorry if this doesn’t make any sense. Im so fuckifn scared I just wanna go home But I’m on duty waiting for the cops so I have time to type this up One of my responsibilities is kinda disgusting but I used to just do it anyway: cleaning up animal carcasses It's kinda morbid and sad, I know, but those remains need to be removed from public areas to keep the park nice and clean.
Chasing God through the underbrush
Do you even remember the last time you felt weightless? The last time you felt your spirit lifted by The Lord? When you went chasing God With your dead brother’s quill in your pocket?
I should diet
I’m kinda fat and I don’t want to be that But it is cold and lonely under this roof And there are ghostly sounds By the echoes of forks scraping porcelain And the soft whisper of butter scraped over warm toast But goddamn, it’s hard when spectral food hovers like a phantom At the corner of my eye To hell with control of the self Let me give in to all hungers Like a wolf in the dead of winter I am taken by the spirit of gluttony I gnash my teeth to devour it all I help myself to bowl after...
Fault lines
I had been so long without hope I wish you hadn’t shown me that glimmer Just to scrub it away It’s times like these where I remind myself All the things I don’t like about myself? What does it matter if I’m What does it matter if I am simply not enough? What does it matter if I’m repellant What does it matter if I’m me? So it’s about time I let go of that want What does it matter if I’m lonely?
How to prove reality isn’t an illusion or simulation
I put you in scare quotes in the title, to show my distrust of the concept of you, or rather my confusion. See, I’ve been reading about solipsism. It’s one of the more extreme branches of skepticism— taking several steps beyond “we can only know what we can prove with empirical testing and observation” and leaping into “we can’t even prove the physical world exists”. Solipsism is the philosophy that asserts that the ONLY THING that one can know for certain is one’s own self.
An elegy for my faith in humanity
I used to look at charity and love I used to look at non-violence And I used to look at gentleness And art and for its own sake Then I would think: It seemed to me Humankind was maneuvering past the crueler policies of We were rejecting “survival of the fittest” And choosing to be better than our hypothesized nature To let our kindness be generous, bold, even irrational, We were on the cusp Of the next great, evolutionary leap Whereby sticks and stones and other bone-hurters Could be laid...
Stolen by The Worldwide Dick Eater
And today I am done pleading the fifth Yes it’s true, though it might come as a shock: Corona really can shrink your damn cock! And this sort of loss can leave a fella feeling quite low I wish I couldn’t say “ believe me… I know” See, I caught covid, and I got real sick Then that virus ate an eighth of my dick It nibbled away an inch of my worm Like Yellowstone without old faithful I’ve still got the beans but I mourn for the beanpole Now im sure how you can see Why I’m here writing this...
Sorry to all the books I haven’t f___ed
I’m sorry for labeling so many books “Did Not F___”. I know Vocal is more for writing and my post is just a rant about reading and f___ing books rather than writing them, but we’re all book lovers here so I hope it fits! For what it’s worth I used to make a point of f___ing every book I cracked open. But eventually, I started to realize some books were just really plain— they were too boring to fully enjoy so they weren’t truly worth f___ing.
Up On the Rooftop
”Jimmy, I promise! It’s the only way to see him! And just imagine how impressed he’ll be if he sees you waiting by the chimney!” The littler boy looks up at the ladder. Then he shifts to look up at his older brother. “I dunno Tommy. When dad was working on the gutters he said I couldn’t help because I am too little.” Tommy gives him a nudge. “That was last year little man-- and dad's not here! You’ve grown a lot since then. Wait... You’re not scared are you?
Getting Lost in the Lost City of Tryon
There’s a spot in the woods near here, where the adelgid seems to thrive. Those woolly little bastards munch and chew and suck the sap, until Proud Hemlocks die. There’s beauty there, on that littlest of mountain peaks! A bone-laden pellet dropped to the floor beneath the struggling trees means Brother Owl has had a feast! And beneath the feathered canopy, Tall Hemlock’s babies cling to an eroding westward face. The dirt there is full with needles and moss, and each stride feels soft as lace.
To the letter
“Hear ye, hear ye…!” He really went all out this time. I mean, no one expected Albert to wear the full outfit that early into the celebrations. It was six in the morning, and he was right in the dead center of Antonville, right underneath the bunting and the flags, standing by the statue of the town founder (not important right now, but you know the place is called Antonville, so…), and he did not even have a microphone or bullhorn. But I heard him.
At Auction, Rules Must Be Followed
The large, loud woman leers at the man on the auction block. She fans herself with her bidding paddle, her hair is wet with sweat. She brushes a damp, blonde curl out of her bloated face. She points aggressively: “That twiggy boy, with the narrow nose and the long brown hair. I like 'em weak. Love to hear 'em squeak." Some of the women crowded around the auction block whoop and whistle.
With Whatever Tools at Your Disposal
”No soliciting, federal code 34b. Maximum penalty.” The old man gestures to the area where he knows the sign is posted. He fixes his rheumy eyes in a cold glare— towards the blur of a man standing before him. His voice is like rust and rough cut lumber: “You are accessing a private, restricted property without prior authorization, and I will be pressing charges. As the rightful owner of this property I am issuing a lawful command: leave. Now.
Nuked
He sits there in opulence, hating them. All of them. Not just the Blacks who don't know their place, and the gays and the lunatic left, and the useless women like Ilhan and AOC who are delusional enough to think that what they have to say somehow matters, not just them... But the whole fucking world. Even those who worship him. Sometimes he hates them most of all, because he knows that for all their supposed deference and respect, the truth is they are simply taken by fear.
Broken and Driven
And in so doing I have embraced my own damnation. I know, on a cognitive level, I am the greatest hero humanity has ever known. But in my soul that I am also our greatest villain.... Public opinion will not favor me. I will go down in history as the worst monster humanity has ever produced, and I will deserve it. The Rwandan genocide saw the brutal extermination of almost 1 million Tutsi's-- in a mere 100 days.
Hernia, insomnia, and a limerent fugue
I have not been able to I clasped my palms over my eyes To block out all light And lay myself down again I managed to forget about the But my deeper aches were not dulled! In the darkness they were sharpened: Protruding through the tissue of my thoughts What of my constant guilt?
The Devourer of Villages
There are several "Founding Fathers" celebrated in American history, but none more famous and mythologized than our very first terrorist-in-chief: George Washington. This is the story of his shining, compulsively honest spirit. Once upon a simpler time, back in the 1738, there was an American boy named George. George was sweet and innocent and just as boyish as any other rascal. He had plump, rosey cheeks that were always quick to smile.
Alone in the dark
He wakes to profound silence and total darkness. His head hurts: splitting pain behind his eye sockets. His temples throb with his every heartbeat. Considering how bad each pulse hurts, he’s surprised he can’t actually hear it beating like a bass drum…. But the silence is deep. A bad enough migraine, to overwhelm his senses and temporarily shut them down. He holds one clammy hand to his forehead and moans.
A Brief Nightmare
Trying to make real art the best I can, never Ai! Help me write better! Critical feedback is welcome :)
Indifferent Stars In Different Skies
All the stars are out And blow it across the moon I gaze up at the ripples And discover I have been swimming in pale water My mind is stretched and kneaded like putty Is this how it feels to be high?
A letter, my counter offer
To the filthy, sniveling weasels whom it may concern, I read your proposed settlement and I find it Makes earnest offer of a festering turd such as this— All done up with grift wrap and a bow?
Cheers
Tina, I’m so honored to be your maid of honor! I was actually proud of you for asking me. But I thought: since you gave up on our weight loss routine, you might feel weird about pictures together. But you didn’t let that stop you! Really, that’s a testament to how beautiful you are, on the inside. You have like zero vanity! Everyone else frets over their looks, but not you. Love you so much for that. It’s probably also why your husband chose you.
The Cultist
”Dude! My dad is pissing me of so bad lately. You’ll never believe where I just came from.” The boy picks up a flat, smooth stone and slices it through the air with a flick of his wrist. It hits a wave at an angle and skips sideways. His friend answers with a shrug. “Yeah. Dads are like that man. What’s yours done now?” The boy frowns and then he chuckles. “He is always doing some cringe bullshit. But this time it’s worse than the usual. Much worse.” He picks up another stone. “You know what he's like.
Unofficial Challenge: Black History Celebration
Hello fellow writers. I've had this challenge waiting in my drafts for most of the month. But I held off on publishing it, until now. I'm deliberately making this challenge public in the final hours of Black History Month, and extending the run time through the next month because I want to emphasize that Black History is all year. As a pretty much average white guy, I know I've got plenty to learn about Black History.
Three-stranded braid of failing Cs: Christianity, Capitalism, Consumerism
Invented by Charles Dickens back in the 1840's as the name for his deplorably wealthy antagonist in the story "A Christmas Carol". Now, in modern English, a Scrooge is a miserly, greedy " person" who deprioritizes actual people in order to better fixate on money. Those scare quotes were deliberate. I'm not saying filthy rich pigs aren't technically people too.
Zero Grace
Zero grace… Sometimes it’s just hard For me to say thanks When it’s charity and support?
The Proposal
“There’s something I’ve been w-w-wanting to ask you for a v-very long time.” He drops to one knee and gazes up at her— the crack of half-smile on his lips and the threat of a tear in his eye. His smile widens and now the tear is real. It shimmers and then spills and falls down his cheek. He laughs. “G-God! I’ve b-been dreaming of asking this question for years. But now we’re here, I don’t know how to s-s-say it. You do that to me you know. Even still. I mean hell! I’m… I’m… I’m… shit.
Warming up, round 3
And the park is so cold There is ice clinging to the hairs in my nose And I’m tired of this shi(f)t, Can’t lock the lodge until the last party blows We’ve still got three hellish hours to go Part of me hopes the party people are having fun, I mean it! No joke But the other part of me wants them to gtfo Because the leather of my boots Numbness is resting against my veins I’ve gotta get out of these boots I’ve gotta drain these bitches and let them dry There’s a legacy of frozen toes in the...
Warming up, Round 2
How’d it get there? More than that, they feel every breeze They were made for working And I have worked them like dirt So now, they are more I should buy new ones, I suppose I should by new ones, To replace these frictionless hazards I now wear And what’s more, they stink Trudging through icy dogshit’ll do that Shame on me for tracking it indoors But who will rub my nose in it? Must I do everything myself?
On Call
Trying to make human art the best I can, never Ai! Help me write better! Critical feedback is welcome :)
A Moron’s Guide to Freezing your Balls Off
You wanna feel cold to the bone?
On and on: The Static Object
He wakes before the sun and regrets it. He’s not even sure what woke him. The house is quiet as ever. He looks at the window. There’s a layer of frost where the condensation from his breath has frozen into crystal. Scratches the frost with his thumbnail. How is that he wakes up every morning more tired than when he went to bed? There aren’t any birds calling outside, it’s too cold for that. He would have preferred to stay asleep.
The Pfister sisters and other God-blessed heroes
"Humanity! Their damnable greed! Get Michael. And Raphael." "You moving up the End Times? It's kinda short notice, but I think we can pull it together. Want me to rally Death, Famine, War, and Conquest?" "No, Gabriel. Not yet. Leave the Horsemen be. You and the other archangels are going to make a few Annunciations." Albert Johnson groans. He does not want to be lucid. He hates it... He pulls weakly against his restraints then groans at the lead researcher who looms over him.
Letter to the Lonely
This is a message to those who are ALONE: Studies indicate that social isolation poses a legitimate risk to YOUR physical and mental health If you feel isolated this news may read as cause for alarm You may not be as lonely as you think you are Some of your loneliness may be contrived That is to say: artificial Now, it’s true that we Homo sapiens are social creatures We fail to thrive if we are put in isolation So if you are yearning for Those feelings can be They may manifest in many ways...
Survivor’s Guilt
“ What was it actually like Before?” “You know, Mom. Just Before. When we were hiding under that bridge and you held me close and told me not to make a peep. I was listening to those people walking by above us. Other than you and Dad, I'd never been close enough to another person to actually hear their words and that one man’s voice was so loud. I heard him say to someone else in their group, something about how what they were doing would have been unthinkable Before. What did he mean, unthinkable?
What 3 Hybrid Physical Therapists and Strength Coaches Want You to Know About Pain, Exercise, & Movement
If there’s one thing the media (social media in particular) has taught us, it’s that everyone has an opinion on everything. It’s become frighteningly easy for people with a limited understanding of a topic to disseminate their opinions on that topic to large audiences. We need look no further than the likes of Dr. Oz, whose masquerade of a TV show has been shown to follow scientific evidence less than half the time.
Should You Fear Lumbar Flexion?
This article is a complete guide to lumbar flexion in lifting. We'll cover neutral vs. flexion, research on how dangerous (or not) flexion really is, and how to educate your clients on safe practices. It’s common to hear phrases like “that’s how I slipped a disc,” “doing that caused me to throw my back out,” and “lifting like that you’re going to blow a disc” in the gym. These illustrate some of the existing fear-induced beliefs about the spine and lumbar flexion.
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