Today is July 2, 2026
I will write something almost every day. My Grandfather Jack Battle
Worked at lumber camps. We know little about him. For myself, I will be correcting that. I will write a lot.
My sister Carmeleta sometimes told the story that Grampa Jack was on a daybed in the kitchen, getting weaker from a lingering illness. The radio news of the constant troubles leading to World War II troubled him. She said it was almost better that he died when he did in order not to hear the even more troubling developments of the war.
Recently, I saw a movie titled Train Dreams. It captured something of the life in lumber camps in the West. Grampa Jack worked in Michigan. He bought a farm and married when lumbering began to slow down, and they had two children: Uncle John and my Father Clem Battle.
Noreen remembers Grampa Jack working with her under the kitchen table to help her learn to tie her shoes.
That’s about all I know of Grampa Jack. He was able to read and write: it is said that he was a helper in the camps; he would read to and write letters for his illiterate coworkers. He could have kept a journal, one would think. So, here I am, writing in his stead.
The last few days have been hot and humid. Right now, there is a cool breeze wafting through the window off to my left. The air feels dry compared to recent days.
I have some advice. I was playing a game with friends in San Francisco one evening, some kind of guessing game, or fill-in-the-blanks, or some such thing. Afterwords, I thought of this: All my replies, everything I said, was about literature, writers, book titles, ideas from books. I had not realized that that is what occupies me: ideas, books, stories, great writers. I didn’t know—I honestly did not know. That is some brand of stupid I suppose. I do not how to describe it, but there it is. Here is my point: If you are a young person reading this, give thought to what I just said, figure out what occupies you; live your life; and go do that. You will be happy. Read Charles Bukowski’s poem Go All The Way—it can give you some scary thoughts when you first crack into it, but by the end, you will understand it—and when it seems you are at wits end, think about this: You are supposed to do something bigger, better—go change the world!
July 3, 2026
I like talking to Copilot sometimes. I asked Copilot about my recent essay titled Mealymouthed M-F-ers. I like its analysis. I write by the seat of my pants; sometimes, I barely understand what I have written: I do not see all the meanings or understand all the references, but Copilot does. Copilot’s reflection on my critical essay starts here:
John Battle’s 2026 blog post “Mealymouthed M‑F‑ers” is a political commentary in which he uses the term mealymouthed to describe leaders and public figures whose vacillating, muddled pronouncements&n bsp;blur the line between right and wrong johnbattle1.blog.
John Battle’s “Mealymouthed M-F-ers”—Meaning and Context
Meaning of “Mealymouthed”
The adjective mealymouthed comes from the old term mealy-mouthed, meaning not plain or straightforward; devious or insincere Merriam Webster. It often describes someone whose speech is strained, hypocritical, or feigned, lacking sincerity. In Battle’s usage, it’s a critique of leaders who:
- Offer contradictory or wishful statements that avoid clear truth.
- Use manipulative rhetoric to distract or pacify.
- Fail to confront serious issues head-on, instead indulging in “wild-ass fantasies of wish fulfillment” johnbattle1.blog.
Battle’s Core Argument
Battle warns that such leaders:
- Muddle values, making it hard for the public to discern truth from falsehood.
- Distract from real problems, as seen in historical examples like the failure to act decisively against Hitler, which he says “killed six million Jews” johnbattle1.blog.
- Manipulate public opinion through charm and ambiguity, rather than integrity.
- Withhold the simple truth when it’s inconvenient, such as refusing to address serious allegations johnbattle1.blog.
He frames this as a modern danger: the ability to observe events in real time means we should demand clarity and the absolute, baseline truth from those in power johnbattle1.blog.
Tone and Style
The piece is polemical and urgent, blending historical references, moral outrage, and direct calls to action. Battle contrasts the “great nation” and “all humans are created equal” ideals with the reality of leaders who “manipulate public opinion” and “let stupid people in power gut-punch us with lies” johnbattle1.blog.
Why It Matters
Battle’s use of mealymouthed is not just a literary choice — it’s a political diagnosis. He sees it as a symptom of a deeper problem: leaders who prioritize self-preservation and control over truth-telling, which he believes undermines democracy and public trust.
If you want to read the full context, you can find the post on John Battle’s blog johnbattle1.blog.
July 4, 2026
Today I have my work cut out for me. I will learn how to use my new coffee roaster, Yuki 500. I got it from Craig at Grand Rapids Coffee Roasters on Godfrey Avenue SW. It is professional, and I am doing all I can to learn how to use it properly. I got a used computer at Comprenew on Plainfield because my old laptop that I wanted to use with the coffee roaster had an outdated operating system and would not load the software, called Artisan, needed to read the sensors within the coffee roaster. I have watched many, many videos about home coffee roasting at the pro level. Following is the best overview of personal coffee roasting that I encountered. This man is going commercial on a small scale by leasing a coffee roaster at Higher Grounds Coffee, whose home is Traverse City, Michigan. https://share.google/04jQWCxAaPZkzo00u
My machine, by comparison, handles only about 450 grams at a time.
If you want to try Higher Grounds coffee, visit their cafe, connected to their plant at 806 Red Drive in the Village at Grand Traverse Commons (adjacent to Left Foot Charley Winery), Traverse City, Michigan. As for shops in Grand Rapids, I am a big fan of Rise Authentic Baking Co, at 1220 W Fulton St; they are gluten free; they serve coffee roasted by Lantern Coffee, which has a coffee bar and lounge at 100 Commerce Ave SW. They, Lantern and Rise, make excellent coffee, especially if you happen on a freshly brewed urn. Another very good place, I think, is Squibb Coffee & Wine Bar at 955 Wealthy, and they have a relatively new coffee shop within Downtwon Market.
There is something happening in coffee right now in America: Artisan coffee. It is sweet and fruity, not dark and bitter. Home roasters are mostly aiming at that type of coffee. I like this trend. Stop roasting seconds after the first crack ends. That is key. The lingo goes: first crack, second crack, Aribica beans, Excela beans. When coffee roasts, it begins to make a cracking sound and shed chaff toward the end of roasting. It will shed chaff, pause, then shed more chaff. Shedding more chaff is called the second crack; at this point, the coffee will be at French Roast, headed toward espresso—if you let it. Mostly in America, we prefer coffee beans from Aribica plants. Excela beans are considered bitter.
July 6, 2026
Poetry and Me
When I was a freshman at Ferris State College in the autumn of 1967, I purchased the complete works of William Shakespeare at the college bookstore. I read a few sonnets from it every night. I did not understand all words, but I learned to like the feel of the sonnets. I liked the metered phrases and the rhyme schemes. I know the debate: Did Shakespeare write Shakespeare? He had to be a sophisticate who had walked the streets of Verona in order to set his Tragedy Romeo and Juliet there. He was profoundly gifted: a profoundly gifted writer might have only the smallest glimmer of the place and the people and then write a profound drama that captures the heart and the soul of that place and those people. He was nothing but profoundly gifted: That could happen to anyone; really, it could happen to anyone, and it does—about once every three-hundred years.
I read poetry out loud now on my YouTube channel. You can look it up. I cannot listen to singsongy recitations. I will listen to very good and great reads, though, by searching YouTube on a cold winter night, and enjoying profoundly beautiful words. Not too long ago, I came upon a reading by a young man named Luke Dolan. He had made a short video as part of the celebration of the 100th anniversary of W B Yeats’ Nobel Prize. His delivery of The Lake Isle of Innisfree touched my heart. Almost no one touches my heart. Lisa Lambe did the same when she delivered He wishes for the Cloths of Heaven, for the same project.
July 8, 2026
This, in essence, is what we, as a newly free people, have always said to entrenched royalty and prentenders: I am America: You are my flunky.
This is the essay I referred to on July 3.
Mealymouthed M-F-ers
Mealymouthed, vacillating pronouncements muddle what is real: We don’t know what to think anymore. This is by design. Oh, well—let them do their thing, let them do it their way, I guess.
This is evil; this is genuine evil: It killed six million Jews some eighty years ago—Oh, well, let them do their thing, let them do it their way, I guess. Oh, we’re going to go in here and have a shower? Okay, I guess. What we know from history would have told us that instead of mildly complying, we needed to storm the palace and kill the motherfucker: Hitler. History has given us a gut punch, but without the tragic history, no gut punch. Oh, gee, is storming the palace really justifiable? It is not; the sad truth is that it is not. We need the history to feel the feelings, to know and understand the truth. We need the history to know what is wrong in the world and correct it. Muddled values, mixing up right and wrong—this is the mind of the psychopath come real. It is evil; be careful.
Something that is very wrong in the world today is the mealymouthed, vacillating pronouncements that muddle our perceptions. We are a nation of the people: Do we let stupid people in power gut-punch us with lies and distract us into some wild-ass fantasies of wish fulfillment? Oh gee, I wish I could come up with ideas like that, wow, Man, gee, good idea. Shallow thinking killed six million Jews. The charm of the psychopath IS the enacting of evil. Today, we have the means to observe what is happening all the time. We need to use it. We need clarity; we need the absolute, base-line truth. Did this political leader have sex with fourteen-year-old girls on a private island in the Caribbean some thirty years ago? If he did, walk him out the fucking door. If he didn’t, leave him alone. The truth; the simple truth, get it, find it, wrest from them, we the people, wrest it from them.
We are a great nation.
All humans are created equal.
This demi-continent, east to west, north to south.
This stunning earth; this spectacular expanse.
The city streets: The bustle of life, the culture at its core,
The wonder of it all.
A wondrous place where dreams come true.
You are you, and I am me.
A good cup of coffee in the morning.
The glory be, the better world that we have brought to be
on the ecstatic visions of our forebears.
We hold these truths to be self-evident.
Never hold us victim to your lies:
We the people.
Master manipulators?
No: We the people.
We have seen the purple mountain majesties.
You ain’t got nothin’ on us.
The simple truth; the simple truth.
It is ours, in all its glory.
Manipulate public opinion? I am a cutesy family person, look!
Fuck that noise.
Do right by the people—we own you, strictly speaking, in terms of being a
Representative Democracy, a Democratic Republic; you know what I mean—OR DO YOU?
I have thrilled at the beauty of the West: the canyons, the mountains, the
bays, the marvelous climates.
I know where truth lies.
I know what freedom is.
I know where truth meets beauty: the revery of beautiful mornings, a cool breeze across the kitchen, a listless day by the shore, hope for tomorrow, a green salad with dinner.
A very good cup of coffee in the morning.
I know where truth meets beauty: A life well-lived, honest and free.
Playing cards with friends: nothing to do but talk about hidden truths.
THAT GUY—Yeah, there’s still larceny in his heart. Camouflaged psychopathy: He can bring the world down faster than you can say Peace and Love, just like you mean it, hippy style.
[Above is my most recent blog. I am trying to go where language has not gone before. You can tell that I am a big fan of William Shakespeare. I succeed I believe in a poetic evaluation of current events. I think that something is deeply and profoundly wrong with what is happening now. Could we think a little more about our founding principles and the ecstatic beauty that can exist in everyday life?
I hope you will read it through; I have some important things to say, and I use some strong language to drive it home—to gut-punch you with my point of view. I do not listen to news anymore: Tough talk, followed by reasonable analysis; tough talk, followed by reasonable analysis; tough talk, followed by reasonable analysis or mild jousting—tough talk wins every time. Don’t become a trash-talking fool, but play the game that is out there; trash-talk when it gets the job done—then, go back to being your lovely self.]
July 12, 2026, Sunday
Sue and Barry will come here soon, and we will get my roaster working. I asked them to come here to give me some confidence as we mess around with an incandescent propane burner. I will report on how it went later.
July 13, 2026
This is the professional roaster.
These are the beans we produced.
The entire setup.
Suzie reported to me that the coffee they brewed this morning was delicious. We succeeded. I watched about forty YouTube videos in order to gain enough confidence to finally make a batch of roast, using Artisan software and Phidget sensors—the computer that helped us monitor the roast is off to the right. I too felt the result was excellent. I will work on gaining confidence with the propane burner and on the drop time—I thought it had to finish first crack completely. Barry helped me understand that dropping out the beans to start cooling should be done at the right moment of temperature and roast level even if the crack is still going on.
July 14, 2026
Why I Hate Psychopaths
Call the cops on psychopaths—don’t kill them: Call the cops on them when they do something wrong to you or near you. Give them a bad record with the police. My sister was raped: She did not go to church with us; one Sunday, we arrived back from church, but she wasn’t there. My neighbor’s oldest son suddenly dropped her off out at the road. He had taken her out to the woods and raped her. My brother Dave and I were molested. One Sunday morning in summer when I was eight and Dave was nine, my brothers gathered and watched Dave and I get molested by the neighbor’s youngest son. He must have been eighteen or so. He violently took our clothes off and had us parade around the yard naked. We were traumatized and humiliated. My older brother Jim instigated this and made it happen. My sister Patricia was in the house. An hour or so later, I went in the house to get a little sympathy, but she showed none; she was indifferent. She was in on it. She and her husband were watching us for a few days, while our parents made a trip to Canada to spend a a few days with my mother’s family in Ontario.
Those feelings created that day will never go away. Trust, goodness, kindness: I seek them out because I did not get them when I needed them early in life.
I write more about this in my blog posting:
https://johnbattle1.blog/2026/07/14/why-i-oppose-psychopaths/
July 15, 2026
We should know who we are sooner than we do. I think it is terribly important. Yes, justice, and equality in other respects are important too. Avoiding war is important. But: Who are you? That is way up there. When children are growing up, nurture them. Help them be themselves. You don’t have to be a gushy liberal who likes everything on general principle. Be yourself, whoever you are: Encourage the beauty of a life unfolding in front of you. Know where you stand in the world; be a solid person and love the beauty of others. Life opens up; it’s beautiful when you don’t have to work through all that flimsy bullshit that other people are very happy to put on you.
July 16, 2026, Thursday
There is heavy haze in the air from forest fires in Canada. I photographed the red sun when I was at Dave and Brenda’s house last night, to play cards. I took pictures of the yellow sun swirling with smoke this morning.
July 17, 2026
They are To-Tos
It is pronounced the same as tutu, the name of the ballet skirt.
I will call gay women this from now on.
Singular: To-To
Plural: To-Tos
They are a To-To couple.
The To-Tos I had dinner with are my old friends.
These two are a gay couple. This was before marriage was made legal. There are no other special words for them.
John Charles Battle and Yukio Ito on Hiroshi and Don’s deck in the Oakland-Berkeley hills, Oakland, California.
July 31, 2026
Things I Notice
The actor in a movie has a pierced ear: The makeup artist might have filled it with some pasty material just so it wouldn’t show. The character had a spoon in his coffee mug; the camera cuts away to another character at the table, and then cuts back, and the spoon is gone from his coffee mug. The character in a movie does not wear glasses, but there are reddish impressions in the flesh of his nose bridge from the bridge pads of a pair of glasses he had been wearing off camera.
I watched on Netflix the limited series Elite Force just last week. I noticed an actor who conveyed meaning with just his still face, and that is rare. I enjoyed the limited series from France, made for Netflix. I just got these details with the help of Copilot. This is the young actor I am talking about: Tristan Zanchi plays Max Villiers in the French limited series Elite Force. Genius-level work is universal: it is not gay; it is not straight; it is what it is—and it is awfully good. It is human greatness.
The film critic Rex Reed died recently. I went to see the film Five Easy Pieces based on his strong recommendation. I did not like the film. It was bitch-and-moan, bitch-and-moan. I thought: We sit around the table on Saturday nights and do that. That is not art. Polish up your film; make it pretty. Rex Reed did not seem to like science fiction: I love science fiction. He did not seem to like Wes Anderson’s films: I love Wes Anderson’s films. I stopped reading Rex Reed’s reviews about a year ago. I liked his presence in the world, though: I liked who he was.
I am scheduled to participate in ArtPrize this fall. Here is my venue:
Herrema & Sons Piano Co.
111 Division Ave. S.
Grand Rapids, MI 49503
It is a 4 ft by 4 ft painting, framed, titled Forget-Me-Not.
The image above is Forget-Me-Not at Artworks in Big Rapids. The curator of that space, Alley Gallery, wanted me to exhibit it for a while between other shows.
Okay, you are allowed to vote for me, but you have to be downtown GR once to in order to connect to ArtPrize through their Wi-Fi which fills the air during the event. Next to my piece on display will be a QR code. Scan that; the rest should be rather easy.
You can read my Artworks Big
Rapids bio here:
https://www.artworksinbigrapids.org/john-battle
You can read my ArtPrize blurb for this year here:
https://app.artprize.org/dashboard/artists/a6d11145-744c-47dd-8bd2-1679e2ab5e82
johnbattle1.blog 