and this is my one hundredth posting. who knew i’d make it this far & get so many people say they read my blogs and enjoy them. it’s quite amazing. really. i think i’d rather be quoted than famous. #truestory.
dear readers and followers:
i know i say “thank you” and “i appreciate it” when you tell me how fond you are of my shxt – but i really mean it. it throws me for a loop that i can make such an impact. i love it. keep reading.
and i don’t know where to go from here.
not in life, ’cause that’s pretty much figured out – but with this posting.
so let’s free write for a few minutes.
i had a friend kill herself over some bullshit. and although she was a friend, i kinda saw it coming 15 years ago in match class. that wasn’t the fucked up part. the fucked up part was her son found her swinging with the wind chimes from the back porch. that was the sad part.
i’ve been at a writing block with a few of my screenplays. oh how easy it is to wrote ignorant tyler perry-like shxt and make the people laugh. but i want to kill all laugh tracks. i want to piss the people off. i want to go into their homes and insult them and make them angry enough to change. i’ll say shxt like:
-one day i’m going to buy the projects & immediately evict everyone able to work ANY job.
-i was 21 years-old when i realized welfare didn’t run in families like diabetes and black fathers. but it is passed down just as easy.
-lincoln can kiss my ass.
-illiteracy does not mean you cannot read. it means you cannot read on an appropriate level, you illiterate bastard.
-don’t get mad when they call you “nigger” if you’d rather discuss an ignorant rapper’s diamond teeth over race relations.
and shxt like that.
and my grandmother is going through a few things right now & i’m occupying my time loving and living. and through her i’m realizing why i don’t open myself up as much as i should. well, at least part of the reason.
aside from the ataraxia i’ve been diagnosed with, it also comes from me not wanting to be empathized with. (is that the word i’m looking for? i hope so) i hate that. the same reason i rarely invite folks to my shows, and to my debuts, and screenings. because i dislike the applause and what not. it’s cool, but keep it to a minimum.
and my birthday is this coming wednesday the 17th. a day older than i’ll be on tuesday, i guess. and i love it, though. mainly because i have friends who grow older and cry on birthdays over store brought cakes and ice cream and cry from their place of self loathing. they have nothing to show for their 25+ years.
but i have:
-degreed young man
-2 published books
-i own my own independent publishing press
-member of two of the greatest fraternities
-more friends in REAL LIFE than most people have on twitter
-the resources of jesus
-a cologne collection that makes me smell like God himself threw up on me
-a bunch of other shxt that slips my mind at 3:29 am.
so i look at this new number as another chance to work harder. last year i seemed to lap just about everyone, so i’m in no hurry to get too much done, but i will do it in a timely manner.
it’s already february and most of my friends still don’t have passports and i’m still not worried. i’m used to traveling alone. it forces me to meet new folks and have more fun and take more photos. woo!
where to next?
since deshaun snead handed me a copy of what became m favorite book: ‘the life and loves of mr. jiveass nigger’ by cecil brown, i’ve been NEEDING to go to copenhagen. so i will.
i’m thinking as soon as the weather there breaks.
get your fxcking passports, axxholes.
there aren’t many places i won’t go with you or many people i wouldn’t slam on their heads if you asked.
because when we’re old, i just want to sit across from you, eating something soft – talking about how good wheel of fortune used to be.
soft comforters and fluffy pillows have been put in place to ease the falls. and rules have been set to limit the experience. i’ve run through the alleys of tucson drank hot tea on the upper east side of new york city and swam in two of the world’s oceans. i know how and why people are people pass through life in a cozy, comfortable, stifling state.
it’s not for me.
i do not want, nor do i seek a comfortable life.
i buy old cars because i enjoy the bumps in the road.
i want to do more than breathe – reproduce – die.
i do not want to go gentle into that good night with smooth skin and no regrets.
i want to die cursing the sun from a park bench with bread crumbs in my left hand, and a walking cane in my right. i want to scream at those who walk by as drool falls from my lip.
i want them to say “look at that old man. that’s sad. he’s talking to himself.”
i will hear them and spit back:
“you are the ones who hated every moment you spent at your job. you are the ones who fueled the petty arguments with your husbands and wives. it was you broke your back to fulfill a dream you didn’t even conceive. you who softly whispered ‘no’ when your soul screamed ‘yes,’ are said. the wind wishes it was as free as i have become. the sun and i share secrets the night will never hear.”
and i will sit back on my bench and hope those sad folks will drop a dime into my cup.
so on this one hundredth posting, i want to raise a glass to the following:
-women who buy tampons with no applicators.
-people who wake up in the morning wishing they were dead & unemployed.
-those who dream – wake up – achieve – dream new dreams.
-those who have something to show for their age.
-those who refuse to apologize for their intentions.
-me & my friends.
-the idiots who’ve had their hearts broken & gave up on love
-@sunyblack who i may not spend my bday with again. maybe next year. (sigh). but she knows she’s necessary regardless of it.
side note: the children of the 90’s are starting to have kids. i’m killing the first baby with minaj, kardashian, gucci, vuitton, or wack ass puntuation attached to their name.
side note: i’m not happy all day every day – but i am happy everyday. (thanks @okholden)
and so i end with this: