Janitorial Confessions

09/12/2023

03/12/2023

I am against this—I am against all of this. I will not become them. I am against the characterization of life as a cloaca—a void of p**s and s**t intermingled in hate. I have to overcome this—I must overcome this. 

27/11/2023

Remember.

You killed yourself last night. Rumor was some bad things started to happen after your marriage dissolved. I lived in that same fog for a while and worried I might become just another apparition of that myopic world where you can't tell what's happening because you can't see past tip of your nose. A divorce is one of those situations where the blind leads the blind—at least, that's how it felt to me. It's an equivalent exchange of negatives—dark hand upon dark hand.

It's kind of vulgar to even speak of one's death like this. I feel gross, but I wanted to say something.

You meant a lot to my friends and me. We're all really sad to see you go, but it was your choice, and we abide in the silent space where your body used to be.

All our love.

We’ll miss you.

25/11/2023

I’m watching. I’m watching you struggle against yourself. Something in you wants to be seen. Something in you wants to be known. You suspect whatever it is will set you free. You suspect it is God’s dream for your life—the one you can’t seem to wake up to.

Oh, Struggler! Oh, Struggler
Of flesh and thorn!
To this wretched world
Must thee be born
Day after day thoust transform thy sin
And see the world as it could have been

Someone is out there waiting for you to tell them you love them.

23/11/2023

Happy Thanksgiving! 🦃

19/11/2023

Janitorial Confessions is back, baby!

18/11/2023

And it's beautiful.

18/10/2023

My current read.

03/10/2023

Today is my birthday. I am ever grateful for y’all’s continued love and support. This page has grown into something I never imagined.

I humbly ask for your prayers for the continued growth of the page and that people find the germ of their convalescence in my work.

This is me at my second birthday party. I don't think I remember this day, but I remember when the house looked like this. It seems like whatever gift I opened here was clothes. I'm sure mom snapped this picture before I started crying. I always cried when I was gifted clothes. I didn't yet understand the value of a good pair of pants and how lovely such gifts were. I just wanted toys.

It was 1990. The residue of the cigarette sepia stained everything. My grandpa was the only one in the house that smoked. He was relegated to a half bath/toilet closet to carry out his habit. He never smoked outside his hole, but everything he touched turned yellow-brown over time. He was like a white trash King Midas. He was probably at the party.

I like this picture only because it reminds me of my son.

We are beings in and across time. I will not forsake the past.

03/10/2023

Something About Yesterday's Ghost

Part One: Diners

"You got it?" he says nervously. "Yeah, Spaghetti, I got it." He seems more anxious than usual. "Y'all still drink your s**t black?" the waitress asks. "Yes, ma'am," we say in twin-like synchronization.

"Rig, listen," he says tiredly, "I'm really nervous about this case. S**t ain't right, man. A mother and her two-year-old boy go missing in broad daylight in Ash Hollow after she gets a muffin down at The Glade. She turns the corner down Southgate to get to her car—poof!—gone! She's found three days later strung up like Christmas in the rec basketball court four blocks away, disemboweled, liver removed. The boy is found 33 feet away to the inch in a stone circle with rocks sourced 200 miles away from the Cardinal Basin—alive but sedated." "Did Toxicology get back to you?" I ask. "S**t no!" he says, slamming his fist on the table. "Occult Ops don't talk to anyone without Commissioner Rose's approval. Damn pig!"

"Here you go! Two eggplant parms with extra parm, babes." "Thank you, Lucy," I say, waving my hand. "Rig," says Spaghetti under his breath, "you ever think about talking to her? I see the way she looks at you. It's been, what, six years now? You gotta put yourself out there again, man." "S**t, man," I say, picking up my fork, "I don't know. Maybe when we ain't got ritual murder playing out in the streets. I ain't had a good night's rest in weeks. The doctor prescribes only ten benzos at a time, and I gotta see him in the office for him to cut me another script. I'm a bird without a song—I ain't fit for a girl as nice as Lucy." "Look!" Spaghetti says, slamming his fist to the table again, "if you don't give her your number before we leave outta here, I will s**t my pants! I don't give a damn!—what the hell are we gonna do with you, Rigatoni?

I reach into my pocket and partially pull out the small copper dahlia found during our sweep of the crime scene. I can't help but think the killer wanted us to find it. Commissioner Rose and his lackeys passed right over it. I pocketed it while they were bagging the body. It's better with us than languishing in the evidence locker.

What could it mean?

29/09/2023

Hello everyone,

I wanted to update you on the monetization issue I mentioned earlier this week. I'm pleased to inform you that page monetization has been restored, and we're back in business. Upon review, it was determined that there were no violations.

As a result, I've decided to take a few days off to work on some exciting new ideas for the page, as well as the other page I manage. I've gone through significant psychological and spiritual changes, and I'm looking forward to giving the page a fresh new direction and patina.

I am also considering renaming the page for several reasons: I won't be a janitor forever. It's hard for me to separate my online persona, my vocation, etc., from my authentic self (whatever that is) and the aims of my work—it just creates a weird feedback loop in my brain that I don't like. I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter.

26/09/2023

I've reached that point where I may need to explore making a backup page or something along those lines. The page has been demonetized, which isn't a big deal because I've only made 25 dollars in the three months I've been monetized. However, I am concerned about the page being zucced in light of this. It seems to be a common enough occurrence and a reality for many pages. I am in correspondence with a Facebook representative to clarify this issue and how to proceed.

Some images I use for the image/meme poetry might be the issue, as I have sourced images from TV shows and cartoons such as Semseme Street and Hey Arnold. The community standards are myopic and hard to understand when it comes to such things. I’ll keep y’all posted.

23/09/2023

My circle of loved ones past and present—everything feels like worship. My conversion is inevitable. God is good.