so the sign is on the fence – “beware of dog” – but you decide to skip your happy a** in there anyway and get fxcked up.
who’s fault is that? yours or the dogs?
RIGHT – YOURS!!!
so why can’t people carry this same thought into their many relationships (romantic and otherwise)?
three times this week i’ve been confronted with this issue.
folks have entered into relationships knowing the dog was in the yard – but proceeded anyway.
then when bitten – they blame it on the dog.
(and we’re not talking in the sense that “all men are dogs” or any of that off-the-wall bullshit fed to weak women by the scorned masses. we’re talking in metaphor)
basically LADIES & gentlemen: when he or she tells you something – listen. if the actions disagree with their words, oh well. LISTEN TO THE WORDS. damn. save us all some time.
trust me: your friends are tired of giving you advice and you not listening.
every once in a while we must abandon all maturity and make fools of ourselves. at least catch a cartoon from time to time and smile at the unreal world.
i strapped on the rollerblades and hit the venice boardwalk. mostly for cardio but it felt good.
gonna do it often. probably not at venice, though.
if you’ve been keeping up with me long enough you’ll know where i keep God hidden.
he lives where water & sand meet.
trust me. go check him out.
so i went there and i found him, and we spoke and everything is everything he says.
i mean, he doesn’t really have a voice, but i imagine he speaks like aquarius rappers or in rhymes like cam’ron.
God is that dude. lol
“i know god personally. in fact, he lets me call him ‘me'” – saul williams.
so here is my conversation with god:
my cologne – boots – backpack all arrived and i’m hype as FXCK!!!
the cologne smells like god’s sweat and the boots are the SHXT!
i wish i could tell you what they were, but after stepping foot on santa monica tonight i see how influential my fashion can be.
felt like posting something old:
six months ago i imagined how your heart would beat when i put my ear there.
this isn’t how it’s supposed to sound.
i imagined every fifth beat would be skipped – just for the hell of it.
nothing special – except my head fits there – balanced.
at some point slightly after our first spades game (you flipping several cards up as you dealt) i decided i’d find a crack to slip through when you weren’t looking.
there are no new year resolutions in this year’s journal – on purpose.
i wanted to start this year with no expectations or bars to reach – giving you a head start.
three months ago i figured my head may be too big to fit
so i’d use my hand first.
slow my heart rate to keep the beast from conquering your heart.
i’d get it another way.
the pillow you offer on the cold nights when my apartment becomes too far to drive back to can remain on the bed where i’ve left several dreams and a few cloud-like configurations.
let’s eat whatever it is i cook and discuss sexual partners and why we’re each other’s exception.
let’s kiss between the periods and the first letters.
inhale the rest of my cologne when the commas get to be too much.
“how long you think we can do this?” – you ask.
“until one or the both of us can no longer believe in forever or fiction.” – i replied.
you rolled to your stomach and turned your head towards mine: “are you comfortable?”
i remained on my back – staring at the ceiling – silent – knowing your heart was now closer to me: “i’m good”
and i found my side of your bed.