I think God prefers men to women. What I mean is he loves men more than he does women. If you look at it from all points of view, I'm right, partly because it's just so gosh darn obvious but mostly because I'm a man. I mean just look at all this evidence...
Men / Women
Men have penises / Women don't.
Men were created first / Women weren't
Men can be messiahs / Women can't.
Men can join all-mens clubs / Women can pout....outside!
Men can be Kings / Women can't (They have to settle for "queen" LMFAO)
Men can be tall / Women shouldn't
A man should be "a man" / A woman should know better
"All men are created equal." / *Not Applicable*
I really could go on but I think my point is well made.
BTW, for all you feminist pursuing "a womans right to choose", you've got it all wrong. What you should be advocating is "a man's right to choose for his woman". Now if you adopt that as a platform, I guarantee you, you'll all be taken a lot more seriously.
PS: Yes, this is how I spend Sunday evenings.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
My American Family
Aunty Reggie
My Aunt Reggie can't stand Africans...you know, "those Africans". It has to be "those Africans" because...well...she's African and I suppose she can stand herself.
Uncle G
My Uncle G. will pass off anyones story as his own, even yours, and he'll tell it right back to you:
Spook E: Hey Uncle G. Did you hear about the fire at my school?
Uncle G: No I didn't.
Spook E: It burned down our cafeteria. Turned out the fire was started by disgruntled students. They said they had had just about enough of the under cooked beef patties.
Uncle G: That's why they burned the place down?
Spook E: Yep.
Uncle G: What a bunch of idiots.
...3 days later...
Uncle G: Hey Spook E. Did you hear about the fire at your school?
Spook E: umm... I think I told...
Uncle G: Can you believe these students burnt down their own cafeteria?
Spooke E: Well...yes and I think I told...
Uncle G: These idiots complained about under cooked beef patties and guess what they do?
Spooke E: They burn the cafete....
Uncle G: They burn the cafeteria down. What a bunch of fools you call classmates. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it.
Spook E: Yea, me too.
My Aunt Reggie can't stand Africans...you know, "those Africans". It has to be "those Africans" because...well...she's African and I suppose she can stand herself.
Uncle G
My Uncle G. will pass off anyones story as his own, even yours, and he'll tell it right back to you:
Spook E: Hey Uncle G. Did you hear about the fire at my school?
Uncle G: No I didn't.
Spook E: It burned down our cafeteria. Turned out the fire was started by disgruntled students. They said they had had just about enough of the under cooked beef patties.
Uncle G: That's why they burned the place down?
Spook E: Yep.
Uncle G: What a bunch of idiots.
...3 days later...
Uncle G: Hey Spook E. Did you hear about the fire at your school?
Spook E: umm... I think I told...
Uncle G: Can you believe these students burnt down their own cafeteria?
Spooke E: Well...yes and I think I told...
Uncle G: These idiots complained about under cooked beef patties and guess what they do?
Spooke E: They burn the cafete....
Uncle G: They burn the cafeteria down. What a bunch of fools you call classmates. I'm surprised you didn't hear about it.
Spook E: Yea, me too.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Things That Bug Me: Post 1
I'm starting a new series of posts called "Things That Bug Me". Everyday when I walk out of the door of my living quarters, I find a host of little thing that just irk me. An example is Mr. K who lives right accross the street from me.
Mr. K is a good neighbor; He's friendly, helpful, considerate (a rarity where I live) and really an all-around good guy. But what gets me, what really bites about Mr. K is this: every morning, right when I'm in my PJ's eating my bowl of Honey-nut Cheerios, Mr. K is out in his little garden of eden, doing garden work. It's like a morning ritual. Today he's mulching, tomorrow he's got new shrubs linning his drive-way, the next day he's got a cute little hand-shovel digging away at roots and picking at dead leaves.
It's not the niose that annoys me, truth is, he hardly makes any. What really gets around to my scrotum and plucks the hairs off it is just the predictability of it. Every morning it's the same thing over and over and over. He's got the best front yard on the block, worthy of the gardens of Versailles... Heck forget the block, I'll bet my beat-up '96 Saturn that he's got the best looking yard in the entire community....and just so you know I'm not fucking around, I'll throw in 6 months insurance for that Saturn and this new squeegee-bucket combo I got at Home Depot the other day. Walmart had the same thing for twice the price but I'm smart, I shop around so you'll be getting good bang for your bet.
I know it's such a small thing to get pissed about and I know you probably think I'm jealous or something and maybe I am just a little bit jealous, but I mean come on. He's even got small twinkling lights all around the perfectly sculpted evergreen midget tree on his lawn. That's just the ultimate in douche-baggery. WTF! You know what I really think it is? He's just trying to make the rest of us look bad. The rest of block may not know what his plans are but I bet they're diabolical. He's like Martha Stewart, you just know she's a bitch behind the scenes, you just know it. It's a gut feeling and I'm all about gut feelings. I know one day he's going to call up some T.V. show that awards America's most perfect front yard and they're going to turn up with cameras and everything to show America our shoddy street. They'll say goddamit, this is a shit-hole but wait, over there, number 23, now that's a diamond amongst the fucking rough and he'll win a million dollars to buy more cute little shrubs and perfect gardenia's and snapdragons and fucking delphimiums. Ugh, I hate him.
Anyways, that's what I'm starting, a new series of posts about things like: Mr. K's perfect garden and his garden habits, that really sting my balls. If you have little things that annoy you, I'd like to know about them in the comments. You don't have to have a completely rational reason to explain why they annoy you, just the plain fact that such and such pisses you off, is good enough. If you want to blog about it instead, put a link to your blog in the comments. Could be fun ya know.
Word Of the Day: Misandrist (miss AND rist)
You've heard of mysogynist, well, here's the other side of the coin. A misandrist is a man-hater.
I know I'm not a misandrist because I love men in everyway love can be manifested. Yup!
Friday, December 21, 2007
My Uncle, the immigrant
Uncle G: Pulls up a chair and sits at the head of his dinning table, sets his old leather attache case down on the table and unlocks it, his face contorted in the kind of severe seriousness I notice only on immigrants. The folds I see now on his face, I see only when he reads the electric bill or the phone bill or any kind of bill as though the demand for immediate payment were something grave and tragic. He digs in that box for something important, dutifully setting aside documents and files, parting old pay-stubs from dated certificates; sometimes discovering, on his way down, lost nuggets of important or nostalgic things: an old picture of a deceased relative loosens his brow and he calls me over for show and tell. "Oh I am so happy I found this" he proclaims like he had never stopped looking for it. And after he has sworn to never lose it again, he nestles it right back in the spot from which he had just salvaged it.
On he goes, digging deeper, through old receipts from purchases long forgotten that have grown and settled in the shadows of that box like dust; and yet this man, who has never found a scrap of paper too small to be trashed, or a stain of something white, too faint, to be rubbed off, will inter these scraps of useless miscellanea right back in that box, after his search is complete. Some dirt are just worth saving.
He finds it, his phone-book. Tonight, like every other night, he will unwind from an honest-immigrants days struggle by enjoying the only work of literature he will ever write. Bound in weathered brown leather, this book no bigger than the span of his hands comforts him in ways his Americanized kids were doomed to fail from the start. Once upon a time my uncle tells me, "just after I came to this country at 23, I had my first son. My mother told me he'd be like a brother to me since I was such a young father. Now look at him, doo-rag and braided hair, hip-hop music and over-sized pants. This is not my brother; He is nothing like me."
He identifies with every immigrants struggle as though they were those of his own family; "look at what they do to my brother," he says of the Malaysian security guard at work, who is too sick to work but too poor to quit. "If they fire him, I will leave" he says, more a curse than a threat. For over 20 years he has worked for the state government as an accountant, and aquired for himself what many consider emblems of the American dream: A car, a house, health insurance, a retirement plan; and yet his alliance lies more with an immigrant stuck in the ghettos of Newark, New Jersey than with his suburbian middle class American neighbor.
The foundations of that alliance lie in the pages of that book and with each new name entered, it confirms for my uncle that the alliance is growing. Every call made, strenghtens it and comforts him.
He hits the speaker button on the phone and dials...
Uncle G: Hello
Ms. Ama: Hi, who is this?
Uncle G: Ama, it's me, G.
Ms. Ama: Oh hey, how are you doing.
Unce G: I'm ok. How are you?
Ms. Ama: could be better
Uncle G: How are the kids
Ms. Ama: Fine. Just fine.
Uncle G: Well just called to see how you were doing
Ms. Ama: Ok
Uncle G: Ok then, Bye.
He hangs up. Waits a minute and dials another number
Uncle G: Hey OC, its G
OC: Oh hey! How are you.
Uncle G: Staying strong man. You?
OC: I'm well, just the weather. Hows the weather there?
Uncle G: 35 and overcast... oh well I'll survive. Just called to say hello
OC: Thanks man.
Uncle G: Speak to you soon ok?
OC: Ok
Uncle G: Bye
He gets up to drink some water and settles right back in his chair. Flips the pages of the phone book and dials again
Uncle G: Hey Judith, its G
Judith: How are you, it's been so long
Uncle G: I know how are you doing?
Judith: Good. Good. What about you?
Uncle G: I'm ok, just called to see how you're hanging?
Judith: I'm ok, healthy thank God
Uncle G: That's good. That's Good to hear. Well thats really all I called about
Judith: Oh thank you. Talk to you soon
Uncle G: Bye
He flips some more pages when the phone rings. This time he opts for the reciever.
Uncle G: Hello?
Friend: ......
Uncle G: Oh KC. Whats up man? Its been so long
Friend: ......
Uncle G: I know, I know, its 35 and cloudy here. Thats America and their winter.
Friend: .....
Uncle G: Yeah, well its good to hear from you
Friend: ......
Uncle G: Thanks for calling
Friend: .......
Uncle G: Bye
He hangs up, smiles and declares more to himself than me, "thank God he called. Saves me the trouble of calling him" and continues to flip his book. He will call 7 more and recieve several calls before reading his bible and turning in for night.
Word of the day: Quotidian (kwo TID ee en)
This one means "occurring everyday" or something "commonly occurring" or "commonplace". I say: I wish this was a quotidian blog but I get so lazy about writing everytime I think of it. And even worse I have "completion-anxiety" which means, before I get started, I fear I won't finish so I opt out of starting altogether. Kinda kooky, I know but, thats me.
On he goes, digging deeper, through old receipts from purchases long forgotten that have grown and settled in the shadows of that box like dust; and yet this man, who has never found a scrap of paper too small to be trashed, or a stain of something white, too faint, to be rubbed off, will inter these scraps of useless miscellanea right back in that box, after his search is complete. Some dirt are just worth saving.
He finds it, his phone-book. Tonight, like every other night, he will unwind from an honest-immigrants days struggle by enjoying the only work of literature he will ever write. Bound in weathered brown leather, this book no bigger than the span of his hands comforts him in ways his Americanized kids were doomed to fail from the start. Once upon a time my uncle tells me, "just after I came to this country at 23, I had my first son. My mother told me he'd be like a brother to me since I was such a young father. Now look at him, doo-rag and braided hair, hip-hop music and over-sized pants. This is not my brother; He is nothing like me."
He identifies with every immigrants struggle as though they were those of his own family; "look at what they do to my brother," he says of the Malaysian security guard at work, who is too sick to work but too poor to quit. "If they fire him, I will leave" he says, more a curse than a threat. For over 20 years he has worked for the state government as an accountant, and aquired for himself what many consider emblems of the American dream: A car, a house, health insurance, a retirement plan; and yet his alliance lies more with an immigrant stuck in the ghettos of Newark, New Jersey than with his suburbian middle class American neighbor.
The foundations of that alliance lie in the pages of that book and with each new name entered, it confirms for my uncle that the alliance is growing. Every call made, strenghtens it and comforts him.
He hits the speaker button on the phone and dials...
Uncle G: Hello
Ms. Ama: Hi, who is this?
Uncle G: Ama, it's me, G.
Ms. Ama: Oh hey, how are you doing.
Unce G: I'm ok. How are you?
Ms. Ama: could be better
Uncle G: How are the kids
Ms. Ama: Fine. Just fine.
Uncle G: Well just called to see how you were doing
Ms. Ama: Ok
Uncle G: Ok then, Bye.
He hangs up. Waits a minute and dials another number
Uncle G: Hey OC, its G
OC: Oh hey! How are you.
Uncle G: Staying strong man. You?
OC: I'm well, just the weather. Hows the weather there?
Uncle G: 35 and overcast... oh well I'll survive. Just called to say hello
OC: Thanks man.
Uncle G: Speak to you soon ok?
OC: Ok
Uncle G: Bye
He gets up to drink some water and settles right back in his chair. Flips the pages of the phone book and dials again
Uncle G: Hey Judith, its G
Judith: How are you, it's been so long
Uncle G: I know how are you doing?
Judith: Good. Good. What about you?
Uncle G: I'm ok, just called to see how you're hanging?
Judith: I'm ok, healthy thank God
Uncle G: That's good. That's Good to hear. Well thats really all I called about
Judith: Oh thank you. Talk to you soon
Uncle G: Bye
He flips some more pages when the phone rings. This time he opts for the reciever.
Uncle G: Hello?
Friend: ......
Uncle G: Oh KC. Whats up man? Its been so long
Friend: ......
Uncle G: I know, I know, its 35 and cloudy here. Thats America and their winter.
Friend: .....
Uncle G: Yeah, well its good to hear from you
Friend: ......
Uncle G: Thanks for calling
Friend: .......
Uncle G: Bye
He hangs up, smiles and declares more to himself than me, "thank God he called. Saves me the trouble of calling him" and continues to flip his book. He will call 7 more and recieve several calls before reading his bible and turning in for night.
Word of the day: Quotidian (kwo TID ee en)
This one means "occurring everyday" or something "commonly occurring" or "commonplace". I say: I wish this was a quotidian blog but I get so lazy about writing everytime I think of it. And even worse I have "completion-anxiety" which means, before I get started, I fear I won't finish so I opt out of starting altogether. Kinda kooky, I know but, thats me.
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
It's been 2, maybe 3 days since the last post and I'm still in a mad rage. Well maybe it's a little less than a rage, maybe I'm a little bugged, and I'm probably not mad at all. But before you go on thinking I'm a nut and all for still bitching about $54, some spittle and a courtdate...and restroom users, let me just say I'm well aware of the kids in Somalia with no water to drink, sipping thier own piss to soothe their parched throats and I remember this guy who had this (click after lunch, not before) happen to him. Poor thing. But you see, I can't suffer less because of them...it's like this:
Lets say you're walking to work, on payday, on a bright summer morning, just after you found out you won the lottery and after you've just had the best sex ever. You had stepped out of your million dollar metropolitan home that morning, kissed your "prefect 10" goodbye and seen your 2.3 kids off to school - everyone healthy, everyone happy. Yeah, you're having a really great all-american life when you turn the corner into the new street that was named after you, because you're such a great dude, stubbing your toe on the monument erected in your honor. You don't think of all those poor souls jumping off the 105th floor of the World Trade Center, and say to yourself, "life could be worse". NO! You say "FUCK fuckity fucking fuck" all the way to work and when you get there, the first thing you do before examining the old cancer-ridden hag who just suffered her 3rd coronary in a week is put your foot up, take your shoes off and examine that toe closely. And lets just say it's a little blue, whaddaya do? You curse some more and ask Mindy, your supermodel personal assistant to get some ice for your stubbed toe, thats what you do. Then you have Moe (PhD, Yale), your other personal assistant call up Dr. Diablo, averaging 6.9 botched operations since he started 6 weeks ago to look into the old cancer-ridden hag with the coronary streak. Maybe he'll have better luck ending her streak, maybe not, but "maybe" is a good enough chance for you because fuck it, you're taking the day off. Your toe hurts like crazy.
So yeah, I can't suffer less because of anyones tragedies, I can only suffer more.
Word of the day: Before I give the word of the day, a little on the last "word of the day" -soingee. Can you believe I heard someone use that word? I was watching a reality t.v. cooking show called "Top Chef" and one of the chefs used it. I was stunned at first and a little proud of myself for understanding what the **magniloquent** fucker was going on about. Then I wanted to head-butt his mouth. That is one annoying word. So, because I love you all so much and wouldn't want anyone to enter into any harm, wear a mouth-piece before using that word please.
OK, so todays word is: Pastiche (pah STEESH). (1) the word descibes an artistic work that openly imitates, often satirically, the works of other artists. (2) can also mean a hodgepodge or a collection of mismatched parts.
PS: **magniloquent**...found this one when I was looking for a word to replace 'pretentious'. It made more sense in the context in which I was speaking.
Lets say you're walking to work, on payday, on a bright summer morning, just after you found out you won the lottery and after you've just had the best sex ever. You had stepped out of your million dollar metropolitan home that morning, kissed your "prefect 10" goodbye and seen your 2.3 kids off to school - everyone healthy, everyone happy. Yeah, you're having a really great all-american life when you turn the corner into the new street that was named after you, because you're such a great dude, stubbing your toe on the monument erected in your honor. You don't think of all those poor souls jumping off the 105th floor of the World Trade Center, and say to yourself, "life could be worse". NO! You say "FUCK fuckity fucking fuck" all the way to work and when you get there, the first thing you do before examining the old cancer-ridden hag who just suffered her 3rd coronary in a week is put your foot up, take your shoes off and examine that toe closely. And lets just say it's a little blue, whaddaya do? You curse some more and ask Mindy, your supermodel personal assistant to get some ice for your stubbed toe, thats what you do. Then you have Moe (PhD, Yale), your other personal assistant call up Dr. Diablo, averaging 6.9 botched operations since he started 6 weeks ago to look into the old cancer-ridden hag with the coronary streak. Maybe he'll have better luck ending her streak, maybe not, but "maybe" is a good enough chance for you because fuck it, you're taking the day off. Your toe hurts like crazy.
So yeah, I can't suffer less because of anyones tragedies, I can only suffer more.
Word of the day: Before I give the word of the day, a little on the last "word of the day" -soingee. Can you believe I heard someone use that word? I was watching a reality t.v. cooking show called "Top Chef" and one of the chefs used it. I was stunned at first and a little proud of myself for understanding what the **magniloquent** fucker was going on about. Then I wanted to head-butt his mouth. That is one annoying word. So, because I love you all so much and wouldn't want anyone to enter into any harm, wear a mouth-piece before using that word please.
OK, so todays word is: Pastiche (pah STEESH). (1) the word descibes an artistic work that openly imitates, often satirically, the works of other artists. (2) can also mean a hodgepodge or a collection of mismatched parts.
PS: **magniloquent**...found this one when I was looking for a word to replace 'pretentious'. It made more sense in the context in which I was speaking.
Saturday, December 8, 2007
I'm in an irritable mood.
Reason?
A) 2 traffic tickets: one for a dead head-light ($54.00), the other for not having a valid insurance card (court appearance required).
B) The cop who stopped me showered my face in spit. It came like a fucking deluge with every sentence. I hate him. I hope he dies...in great pain...with green pus oozing out of his urethra...and I hope vultures pluck his testicles out...and feed it to their young...and I also wish him many other horrid things which I cannot name right now but will dream about, in glorious gory detail, tonight.
C) I'm coming down with a sore throat. I get these every year, always at the start of winter. Sore throats suck. They really suck...a lot.
D) Some woman just asked me for directions to the restroom. I knew where it was but I said I didn't.
Why?
Because I'm in an irritable mood and when I'm in an irritable mood, I hate giving out directions to people who want to take a leak in a "restroom".
What the fuck is it with people asking to use the "restroom" like they're going to take a nap in there. NO! You, my dear lady, will not be resting in the restroom. You will be using a toilet. So why don't you ask for the fucking TOILETS! And that goes for all you "bathroom" users too. There are no bathrooms in public places. You're not going in there to take a bath, you're going in to use the fucking TOILET. Ugh, I'm so irritated.
I know you'll say there's nothing wrong with using the word "restroom" because in so and so dictionary, "restrooms" are well defined, perfectly usable modern words. And you'll say, "well, even Noah fucking Webster said so". To bloody hell with Noah fucking Webster. I'm sick of people saying they're going to use the "restroom" or "bathrooms" as though if they said toilet, I may think they're going to take a shit and pass out in a laughing fit. What the fuck. We all shit. We piss first and then settle in for a nice shit. Thats what humans do; we fuck, eat and shit. Damn I'm SO IRRITATED.
And get this, the other day, some girl at work was telling me about some party she'd attended over the weekend. She got to the interesting part and this is how it began: "... and I walked into the bedroom and omigosh, there was a...oh dear, I don't know how to say this,...it was...you know...a... oh dear...how do I say this...ok, I'm going to spell it out for you...OK? OK, here it is...I walked into the bedroom and there was a....D-I-L-D-O".
What the hell! She spelled it out and turned pink afterwards. I wished I could've pulled out a giant phallus and smacked her silly with it for wasting my life like that. With all that build up, I thought there was something even grander in the damn bedroom, like a midget getting beat down by another midget with a gigantic dildo. Now that's a fitting crescendo.
I'm stopping. I'm damn irritated and I think it's starting to show.
PS: Today's word is "soignee" pronounced (swan YAY). It's ESOTERIC and sounds pretentious so I guess I'll have to use it. It means fashionable or elegantly sophisticated and well-groomed. I'm certainly not soignee, I need a haircut badly and Britney Spears is not soignee either, she needs hair badly. Hmm...Is Paris Hilton soignee? What about Hillary? She's got the "elegantly sophisticated" down but I'm not so sure about the "fashionable" bit.
PSS: see how I worked in "esoteric" in that last graph. Ain't I smart?
Reason?
A) 2 traffic tickets: one for a dead head-light ($54.00), the other for not having a valid insurance card (court appearance required).
B) The cop who stopped me showered my face in spit. It came like a fucking deluge with every sentence. I hate him. I hope he dies...in great pain...with green pus oozing out of his urethra...and I hope vultures pluck his testicles out...and feed it to their young...and I also wish him many other horrid things which I cannot name right now but will dream about, in glorious gory detail, tonight.
C) I'm coming down with a sore throat. I get these every year, always at the start of winter. Sore throats suck. They really suck...a lot.
D) Some woman just asked me for directions to the restroom. I knew where it was but I said I didn't.
Why?
Because I'm in an irritable mood and when I'm in an irritable mood, I hate giving out directions to people who want to take a leak in a "restroom".
What the fuck is it with people asking to use the "restroom" like they're going to take a nap in there. NO! You, my dear lady, will not be resting in the restroom. You will be using a toilet. So why don't you ask for the fucking TOILETS! And that goes for all you "bathroom" users too. There are no bathrooms in public places. You're not going in there to take a bath, you're going in to use the fucking TOILET. Ugh, I'm so irritated.
I know you'll say there's nothing wrong with using the word "restroom" because in so and so dictionary, "restrooms" are well defined, perfectly usable modern words. And you'll say, "well, even Noah fucking Webster said so". To bloody hell with Noah fucking Webster. I'm sick of people saying they're going to use the "restroom" or "bathrooms" as though if they said toilet, I may think they're going to take a shit and pass out in a laughing fit. What the fuck. We all shit. We piss first and then settle in for a nice shit. Thats what humans do; we fuck, eat and shit. Damn I'm SO IRRITATED.
And get this, the other day, some girl at work was telling me about some party she'd attended over the weekend. She got to the interesting part and this is how it began: "... and I walked into the bedroom and omigosh, there was a...oh dear, I don't know how to say this,...it was...you know...a... oh dear...how do I say this...ok, I'm going to spell it out for you...OK? OK, here it is...I walked into the bedroom and there was a....D-I-L-D-O".
What the hell! She spelled it out and turned pink afterwards. I wished I could've pulled out a giant phallus and smacked her silly with it for wasting my life like that. With all that build up, I thought there was something even grander in the damn bedroom, like a midget getting beat down by another midget with a gigantic dildo. Now that's a fitting crescendo.
I'm stopping. I'm damn irritated and I think it's starting to show.
PS: Today's word is "soignee" pronounced (swan YAY). It's ESOTERIC and sounds pretentious so I guess I'll have to use it. It means fashionable or elegantly sophisticated and well-groomed. I'm certainly not soignee, I need a haircut badly and Britney Spears is not soignee either, she needs hair badly. Hmm...Is Paris Hilton soignee? What about Hillary? She's got the "elegantly sophisticated" down but I'm not so sure about the "fashionable" bit.
PSS: see how I worked in "esoteric" in that last graph. Ain't I smart?
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Shh. I'm trying to not speak to you
I'm a bad conversationalist. Yesterday, on my way back from work, I sat next to this guy on the bus. It was a public bus filled, as is usually the case, with mostly blue-collar workers. I find blue collar workers to be quite the chatty bunch. This guy was of the working class, I could tell. He had the garb down to a damn tee. He wore two jackets, a beat-up brown scull cap with matching, equally ratty, brown scarf, and black nylon pants that looked like they'd been washed non-stop since the turn of the century. It was cold but he looked strangely over dressed.
He told me he liked my hoodie, this gray old thing I bought at Sears about 2 years ago and asked where I'd got it from. I wanted to tell him the truth, I really did. I wanted to tell him it was on sale at Sears and I only got it because it was the cheapest one there; instead I found myself thinking up a lie that would end the conversation. Don't get me wrong, I'm not snobby or anything like that, I just don't enjoy small talk very much. I'm no good at it. Besides, whats it good for anyway? I can do without small talk and I can certainly do without talking about my cheap gray Sears hooded jacket simply to pass time. I'm one of those introspective people who feel perfectly fine sitting alone at the back of a bus with their thoughts. Anyway, I told him someone gave it to me. Now thats a conversation dead-ender right there. Whats he going to do, ask me who?
You probably think I'm a snob anyway but that's not true at all. Thing is, right after I lied, I felt real bad about it but I couldn't even help myself. I'm so bad at small-talk; my mind just rolls over and plays dead every time I'm about to get into one. Well, after my mind decided to play dead and after I lied to **obfuscate** my mindlessness, he began telling me how nice my jacket looked. He kept saying "Man thats a really nice hoodie man". I thanked him but he still repeated it about 3 more times. I just hate it when people repeat themselves 3 goddam times when you heard them fine the first time. It makes me want to roll my eyes and walk away but I usually don't. I just stay there and nod and smile. I make myself sick. Then he pulled out his cellphone and showed me pictures of fucking Bentleys and fancy Mercedes and some other high-faluting cars. Can you believe that? I didn't even ask to see his damn cars and here he was giving me a virtual tour of his imagined garage via cellphone pictures. He kept saying "I like to do it big too, man" . Again, he said it like 3 times. That just drove me right to the edge of wretching up lunch all over his nylon pants. I wanted to move to another seat because I really hate it when people do bigheaded things like - show me pictures of their fucking cars on their cellphones. I wanted to change seats, but I didn't. I just sat there and said "thats cool man, that's really cool". I really make myself sick sometimes.
Well, that was really the end of it. We just sat there the entire ride until he got off. He never said another word to me but I knew he wanted to; I just knew he was hoping I'd say something about the weather or some irrelevant shit like that so we could get into it and small-talk our way to small-talk nirvana, but I didn't. It wasn't as though I was bursting at the seams with small-talk ideas. I suppose he figured I was a bad conversationalist or something. Maybe he just thought I was snobby. To tell you the truth, I don't care too much if he thought I was a big snob with a fancy hoodie. He's one of those people who says things like "when I get rich, I'm gonna buy me a garage full of Bentleys and Mercedes and some other high-faluting cars and take pictures of every one of them on my cellphone and show them to strangers I meet on the fucking bus". I hate those type of people and I'd love to snob them every chance I get.
Word of the day **obfuscate** - I'm trying to roid up my vocabulary. Maybe using words like this in pretentious ways like I did will help :-)
He told me he liked my hoodie, this gray old thing I bought at Sears about 2 years ago and asked where I'd got it from. I wanted to tell him the truth, I really did. I wanted to tell him it was on sale at Sears and I only got it because it was the cheapest one there; instead I found myself thinking up a lie that would end the conversation. Don't get me wrong, I'm not snobby or anything like that, I just don't enjoy small talk very much. I'm no good at it. Besides, whats it good for anyway? I can do without small talk and I can certainly do without talking about my cheap gray Sears hooded jacket simply to pass time. I'm one of those introspective people who feel perfectly fine sitting alone at the back of a bus with their thoughts. Anyway, I told him someone gave it to me. Now thats a conversation dead-ender right there. Whats he going to do, ask me who?
You probably think I'm a snob anyway but that's not true at all. Thing is, right after I lied, I felt real bad about it but I couldn't even help myself. I'm so bad at small-talk; my mind just rolls over and plays dead every time I'm about to get into one. Well, after my mind decided to play dead and after I lied to **obfuscate** my mindlessness, he began telling me how nice my jacket looked. He kept saying "Man thats a really nice hoodie man". I thanked him but he still repeated it about 3 more times. I just hate it when people repeat themselves 3 goddam times when you heard them fine the first time. It makes me want to roll my eyes and walk away but I usually don't. I just stay there and nod and smile. I make myself sick. Then he pulled out his cellphone and showed me pictures of fucking Bentleys and fancy Mercedes and some other high-faluting cars. Can you believe that? I didn't even ask to see his damn cars and here he was giving me a virtual tour of his imagined garage via cellphone pictures. He kept saying "I like to do it big too, man" . Again, he said it like 3 times. That just drove me right to the edge of wretching up lunch all over his nylon pants. I wanted to move to another seat because I really hate it when people do bigheaded things like - show me pictures of their fucking cars on their cellphones. I wanted to change seats, but I didn't. I just sat there and said "thats cool man, that's really cool". I really make myself sick sometimes.
Well, that was really the end of it. We just sat there the entire ride until he got off. He never said another word to me but I knew he wanted to; I just knew he was hoping I'd say something about the weather or some irrelevant shit like that so we could get into it and small-talk our way to small-talk nirvana, but I didn't. It wasn't as though I was bursting at the seams with small-talk ideas. I suppose he figured I was a bad conversationalist or something. Maybe he just thought I was snobby. To tell you the truth, I don't care too much if he thought I was a big snob with a fancy hoodie. He's one of those people who says things like "when I get rich, I'm gonna buy me a garage full of Bentleys and Mercedes and some other high-faluting cars and take pictures of every one of them on my cellphone and show them to strangers I meet on the fucking bus". I hate those type of people and I'd love to snob them every chance I get.
Word of the day **obfuscate** - I'm trying to roid up my vocabulary. Maybe using words like this in pretentious ways like I did will help :-)
Tuesday, November 6, 2007
On that Thursday evening
I walked into a room thick with heat and boasting at least 50 slightly sauteed men and women and one boy. There was a kid on the stage playing something uninspired on a guitar; I think he was singing as well, I forget now. I sat on what looked to be the only seat available, way in the back, inbetween a gay man and a lesbian. My luck eh? The Lesbian introduces herself as the president of so and so lesbian club up yonder over there and I believe she threw in her name to complete a proper introduction. It matters little since I forgot it before she was done speaking. Sorry, I wasn't paying too much attention. The heat was stifling, the music, horrendous and Mr. Gay man to my left, disarmingly beautiful (i.e. a major distraction). Before I could bite my tounge, I told her this was my first time there clearly exposing the nervousness I was consciously stuggling to conceal. She smiled and invited me to their next meeting. It was an "aww, how cute" kind of smile too. I hate those.
The kid and his guitar exit the stage and the host of the event declares an "open mic" which I learn means the mic is available to anyone interested in using it. A girl who I'd noticed, sitting hand-in-hand with a young man, gets up to address us. She tells us that she's a freshman, only 18 and had just days before, been disowned by her family for being a lesbian. She thanks the club for giving her a place to "be renewed and reassured". Those words make me happy for her and I smile even though she's on the verge of tears. She points out the love of her life in the crowd who -surpise, suprise- turns out to be, not a man as I'd assumed, but one of those Ellen Degeneres-type butch lesbians. I remind myself: close cropped hair, a pair of slacks and a white long sleeved shirt does not make a person a man and any assumtions about gender within this group must be backed by emperical proof which at some point will require such uncouth statements as "Pull it out" or the subtly suggestive "Let me see it". She descends the stage into a standing ovation and I wish her all the luck she'll ever need.
Another girl comes up and recites a poem in a style that was neither Tennyson (certainly NOT Tennyson) nor Angelou nor like anything I'd ever heard. She read it like she was rapping, hip-hop poetry and at the end I wanted so much to tell her what a genious way it was to read poetry like she'd just done. It had such a smooth flow and yet it had drama and passion and gentleness and ferocity all in the delivery of the poem. I mean the words were like a backdrop for the rhythm of it. At times she spoke so fast the words came at me in a riot but because of the way she said it, I got it. It was understood. The way she sped up at certain points and at others, dropped the words one after a pause after another after a pause after another... I tell you I was so enraptured by it, I felt the urge to shout alleluia in appreciation ...or was it in agreement? I appreciated the beauty of it and it agreed with my senses so maybe both. I discovered later that it wasn't such a ground breaking effort. It's a way of delivering poetry called "spoken word" and if this lady's delivery left me hungry for more, the lady that followed satisfied me enough to promise myself a copy of her CD.
So here this other lady steps up and introduces herself. Her name is Pandora Scooter. She said was Asian I think and started off with a comedy skit. I spent the whole time just taking her in. She was a lesbian and had made that clear with the first joke. She wore a bra and I know this because her top was see-through. She tied up some locks of her hair in blue and red and green ribbons that made me think of her as a tree hugger or a hippie or a woman who didn't give a fuck about what you or your friend thought of her. I liked her immediately. After getting the crowd lively with a few jokes, she dove right into her first spoken word called "Box". Fun and funny and throughly entertaining, we chanted "more! more!" after she was done to which she treated us to another she called "Chilled Hot Cocoa"; a, dare I say, better poem. Here are both performances found on youtube that'll save me an extra paragraph or two of struggling to describe each one. (These are not footage from that day)
After Ms. Scooter was done and said goodbye, the experience for me was over. I had things to study for and I was beginning to cook in all that heat. Nothing became of Mr. gay man to my left. I sort of forgot about him (thats what happens when I give my bigger head preference over my little one), oh well. Maybe next time I'll introduce myself. As for the lesbian...well...what am I to do with a lesbian? (I kid, she was nice)
Ok, I'm too tired to continue. Sleep overwhelms me now. Forgive me if I stumbled through this post, I've had this story on my mind and had to write it down before living consumes me again.
g'nite
zzzzzzzz
The kid and his guitar exit the stage and the host of the event declares an "open mic" which I learn means the mic is available to anyone interested in using it. A girl who I'd noticed, sitting hand-in-hand with a young man, gets up to address us. She tells us that she's a freshman, only 18 and had just days before, been disowned by her family for being a lesbian. She thanks the club for giving her a place to "be renewed and reassured". Those words make me happy for her and I smile even though she's on the verge of tears. She points out the love of her life in the crowd who -surpise, suprise- turns out to be, not a man as I'd assumed, but one of those Ellen Degeneres-type butch lesbians. I remind myself: close cropped hair, a pair of slacks and a white long sleeved shirt does not make a person a man and any assumtions about gender within this group must be backed by emperical proof which at some point will require such uncouth statements as "Pull it out" or the subtly suggestive "Let me see it". She descends the stage into a standing ovation and I wish her all the luck she'll ever need.
Another girl comes up and recites a poem in a style that was neither Tennyson (certainly NOT Tennyson) nor Angelou nor like anything I'd ever heard. She read it like she was rapping, hip-hop poetry and at the end I wanted so much to tell her what a genious way it was to read poetry like she'd just done. It had such a smooth flow and yet it had drama and passion and gentleness and ferocity all in the delivery of the poem. I mean the words were like a backdrop for the rhythm of it. At times she spoke so fast the words came at me in a riot but because of the way she said it, I got it. It was understood. The way she sped up at certain points and at others, dropped the words one after a pause after another after a pause after another... I tell you I was so enraptured by it, I felt the urge to shout alleluia in appreciation ...or was it in agreement? I appreciated the beauty of it and it agreed with my senses so maybe both. I discovered later that it wasn't such a ground breaking effort. It's a way of delivering poetry called "spoken word" and if this lady's delivery left me hungry for more, the lady that followed satisfied me enough to promise myself a copy of her CD.
So here this other lady steps up and introduces herself. Her name is Pandora Scooter. She said was Asian I think and started off with a comedy skit. I spent the whole time just taking her in. She was a lesbian and had made that clear with the first joke. She wore a bra and I know this because her top was see-through. She tied up some locks of her hair in blue and red and green ribbons that made me think of her as a tree hugger or a hippie or a woman who didn't give a fuck about what you or your friend thought of her. I liked her immediately. After getting the crowd lively with a few jokes, she dove right into her first spoken word called "Box". Fun and funny and throughly entertaining, we chanted "more! more!" after she was done to which she treated us to another she called "Chilled Hot Cocoa"; a, dare I say, better poem. Here are both performances found on youtube that'll save me an extra paragraph or two of struggling to describe each one. (These are not footage from that day)
After Ms. Scooter was done and said goodbye, the experience for me was over. I had things to study for and I was beginning to cook in all that heat. Nothing became of Mr. gay man to my left. I sort of forgot about him (thats what happens when I give my bigger head preference over my little one), oh well. Maybe next time I'll introduce myself. As for the lesbian...well...what am I to do with a lesbian? (I kid, she was nice)
Ok, I'm too tired to continue. Sleep overwhelms me now. Forgive me if I stumbled through this post, I've had this story on my mind and had to write it down before living consumes me again.
g'nite
zzzzzzzz
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Here comes the army of one...in pink!
My mind is made up, I will do it. I'm going to my first gay gathering this evening. I'll be going alone but I won't chicken out. No I won't. I'm going to stick around school after classes and then around 7:45pm I'm going to get in my car and drive over to the cultural center. I won't stand outside and debate the consequences of this debut nor will I pretend to have happened across the meeting by chance. No. I will enter as though my balls were made of smooth cold brass, without a doubt in my mind that here, amongst these "queers", was where I intended to spend the evening.
Somone might say "What's that walking in here?" And another might add "Walks like no gay man I've ever seen." That's all well and good. My hair may be a bit messy and my goatee a week too old and my clothes, lack a coordination that might embarrass a clown or two. But when they get to know me, the thoughts that run through my pink, flowery mind, there will be no denying my intrinsic flair for all things fabulous.
Somone might say "What's that walking in here?" And another might add "Walks like no gay man I've ever seen." That's all well and good. My hair may be a bit messy and my goatee a week too old and my clothes, lack a coordination that might embarrass a clown or two. But when they get to know me, the thoughts that run through my pink, flowery mind, there will be no denying my intrinsic flair for all things fabulous.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
stretch marks
I just discovered stretch marks around my upper arm. They're faint, barely noticeable (I hope) but most certainly present.
Lets see, I have them on my ass, on my legs just behind the knees and now on my arms. Its become a guessing game for where the next scar will break through, my penis? How would I ever explain that?
After toweling off last night, I backed my butt into a mirror and thought... if only I was a zebra...
If you don't have stretch marks, I hate you. They don't heal, they don't go away, they might fade but they'll always be there criss-crossing their ugliness around your precious skin and keep you dreaming of what could've been or should've been or maybe even ought to be, one hot peice of flawless ass.
Lets see, I have them on my ass, on my legs just behind the knees and now on my arms. Its become a guessing game for where the next scar will break through, my penis? How would I ever explain that?
After toweling off last night, I backed my butt into a mirror and thought... if only I was a zebra...
If you don't have stretch marks, I hate you. They don't heal, they don't go away, they might fade but they'll always be there criss-crossing their ugliness around your precious skin and keep you dreaming of what could've been or should've been or maybe even ought to be, one hot peice of flawless ass.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Africa
There's this guy who comes in the library to check out books. I happen to work in the library.
What I'm trying to say is...
He's taller than I am which is nice...no, its fantastic!! He's also dark and big...and built strong like a workman, like Africa...so in my thoughts, that's what I call him, Africa. When he speaks, like when he asks for the return date on his books, I listen. I listen longer than I should because I'm echoing his words over and over in my head, swishing them this way and that until I can hear my name in his voice. Whenever he comes to the counter, I can't believe he's speaking to me. I'm actually a little flattered every time. Silly, considering I'm the only one at the circulation desk.
What am I trying to say?
When I get home, I day dream of sunsets on the beach, of the sound of the ocean rushing up on smooth wet sand, of raging wild unbridled put-me-in-a-headlock-and-rip-me-in-half kinda sex; and after dinner, If the mood is just right, If Ms. Patterson downstairs has put her howling bitch of a mutt out for the night, I put on L. Vandross. I turn the lights out, lay back on my bed, get out the KY lube from my bedside drawer and treat myself to a sensual evening courtesy of pleasures only Africa can bring.
I'm trying to say...
I'm still horny and now accepting applications!!
PS
Forget the applications. You qualify. You're accepted. It's yours, now RIDE IT!!!
Thursday, October 4, 2007
I'm going to hell for this post.
Class today was extra boring, my professor is outdoing himself. Only 2 people left before class was over. Thats 2 out of the 5 who attended class today. Not so bad if you consider we started the semester a good 50 strong. At this point I wonder why I bother. For most of the class, I'm fighting sleep. Maybe I ought to stay home, download his slides and read the text book. But then again, the goody-two-shoes student in me will throw a hissy fit and fuck up my mood again.
Damn you Professor Paull. Damn you. [and cut that damn pony tail off. What the hell is that?!!!Looks like a fucking squirell taking a shit out of the back of your head.]
A couple of people said I was a tad insensitive in my scheme to decongest the world by ridding it of over-sized people. Well, take a look at my amigo.
PSS
Open the gates of hell, I'm ready for my close-up :)
Damn you Professor Paull. Damn you. [and cut that damn pony tail off. What the hell is that?!!!Looks like a fucking squirell taking a shit out of the back of your head.]
A couple of people said I was a tad insensitive in my scheme to decongest the world by ridding it of over-sized people. Well, take a look at my amigo.
That my friends is my closing argument, I rest my case. You lose hehe.
PS
Is that towel between his thigh a subtle attempt at modesty? Come on, unless that massive mass of flesh protruding from his right thigh is carrying a gargantuan testicle (which it isn't), he hasn't seen dick and co. since that third gut and left breast became one. He's like, lookey here, I'm flying like a kite LOL like gravity is ever going to let that happen.
PSS
Open the gates of hell, I'm ready for my close-up :)
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Bookstore Story
I read my last post again. Pathetic. I have a tendency to feel sorry for myself. It's a sad day when you give hours dreaming of the life you think you ought to have, wasting away the one you do have. Absolutely pathetic!
I spent this afternoon at the Barnes and Noble Bookstore. It's perfect for studying. It's not so loud that you can't focus on your work but not too quite for you to find distractions in little things. I usually find a spot next to the in-house coffee shop because it always smells of breakfast which makes me think of France which makes me happy. Don't ask how I make all these connections, must be something from my childhood.
So I'm sitting in my corner taking in whiffs of breakfast, picturing France in the autum and watching the woman sitting in front of me, with her back to me. My eyes lingered on the stack of magazines she had piled on her table. Must've been at least 15 high. She'd spent the better part of the last half hour gathering this collection, scrutinizing each one as though she were examining some grotesque creature perched on the shelf before adding it to her pile. In the last 10 minutes, she'd gone through everyone of them, downed her grande frapuccino and had placed an order for another. In my head, I named her Beulah because beulah sounds like alarge big girls name and hot diggity dammit, it fit. She was enourmous overweight. Thanks to Beulah, I wrote this down in my notebook because I'd like to change the world some day and there's just so much to get get done.
The government ought to consider taxing fast food joints like mcdonalds and wendys and.... The government ought to consider taxing people for any extra space they may be using up. Every individual should be allowed a fixed amount of space...and I'm not talking just square area, I'm going volume here. The popuation of the world is growing fast and thus space is at a premium. Any "volume violators" will be locked in an enourmous power plant where they will be forced to work out until they shrink to the legal volume limit. Energy they give off from burning all that fat will be harnessed to provide energy (human hamsters, the new frontier) for law abiding, space conscious people who have for centuries been deprived of this energy by fatsos intent on hoarding it.
From out of a window, I spot a man and a woman skipping like Jack and fucking Jill across a road into a parking lot with a little girl, certainly no more than 10, following, walking at first and then breaking into a trot. This was the funniest shit I'd seen in a long time. They all get into a humongous black SUV the size of my bathroom and pull off. I honestly half expected the little girl to shoo her folks into the back, get in the drivers seat and drive off. Her parents were acting so damn loony. Who skips? If you're over 12 and skip through malls and across parking lots while your 10 year old daughter saunters along behind you, you need to have your tubes tied or your balls fried before you procreate again. Children should not be raising themselves or their parents. Thats just wrong and should qualify as child abuse.
TBC
I spent this afternoon at the Barnes and Noble Bookstore. It's perfect for studying. It's not so loud that you can't focus on your work but not too quite for you to find distractions in little things. I usually find a spot next to the in-house coffee shop because it always smells of breakfast which makes me think of France which makes me happy. Don't ask how I make all these connections, must be something from my childhood.
So I'm sitting in my corner taking in whiffs of breakfast, picturing France in the autum and watching the woman sitting in front of me, with her back to me. My eyes lingered on the stack of magazines she had piled on her table. Must've been at least 15 high. She'd spent the better part of the last half hour gathering this collection, scrutinizing each one as though she were examining some grotesque creature perched on the shelf before adding it to her pile. In the last 10 minutes, she'd gone through everyone of them, downed her grande frapuccino and had placed an order for another. In my head, I named her Beulah because beulah sounds like a
From out of a window, I spot a man and a woman skipping like Jack and fucking Jill across a road into a parking lot with a little girl, certainly no more than 10, following, walking at first and then breaking into a trot. This was the funniest shit I'd seen in a long time. They all get into a humongous black SUV the size of my bathroom and pull off. I honestly half expected the little girl to shoo her folks into the back, get in the drivers seat and drive off. Her parents were acting so damn loony. Who skips? If you're over 12 and skip through malls and across parking lots while your 10 year old daughter saunters along behind you, you need to have your tubes tied or your balls fried before you procreate again. Children should not be raising themselves or their parents. Thats just wrong and should qualify as child abuse.
TBC
Sunday, September 9, 2007
I'm moody but still here.
I could go into what would be a tired recap of my life over the last two or so weeks but whats the point, nothing happened. Heck nothing happened today or yesterday and I know tomorrow will be the same.
I've been sitting in front of this computer, staring at my blog page for an hour. I've downed two glasses of iced tea and I'm half way through my third, went through all of my emails, lunched on a 10 inch ham and cheese sub sandwich and called two friends who didn't answer and haven't bothered to call me back yet. In every way, My life has settled into a routine of uneventful happenings and that in itself has become a burden. I wake up, I go to class, I work, I sleep. Over simplified? Absolutely! But my annoyance is that this is exactly how I see my life, as an over simplified four stage daily process. Everything that slips in between waking up and going to class or between working and sleeping is valid only because it cannot be helped.
I must've lost the big picture some where, you know, my "raison d'etre" or some shit like that because right now, I'm feeling like a ship with a fucked up compass!!
"Lord, I do believe; Help my unbelief"
OK I'm stopping now until I let this cloud thats fucking up my mood clear...thanks to all my friends who stopped by and cussed me out LOL, I love you too!!
I've been sitting in front of this computer, staring at my blog page for an hour. I've downed two glasses of iced tea and I'm half way through my third, went through all of my emails, lunched on a 10 inch ham and cheese sub sandwich and called two friends who didn't answer and haven't bothered to call me back yet. In every way, My life has settled into a routine of uneventful happenings and that in itself has become a burden. I wake up, I go to class, I work, I sleep. Over simplified? Absolutely! But my annoyance is that this is exactly how I see my life, as an over simplified four stage daily process. Everything that slips in between waking up and going to class or between working and sleeping is valid only because it cannot be helped.
I must've lost the big picture some where, you know, my "raison d'etre" or some shit like that because right now, I'm feeling like a ship with a fucked up compass!!
"Lord, I do believe; Help my unbelief"
OK I'm stopping now until I let this cloud thats fucking up my mood clear...thanks to all my friends who stopped by and cussed me out LOL, I love you too!!
Friday, August 10, 2007
A random thought
Dad is here and I'm miserable ... he wants low fat yogurt ... he wants a new wash cloth ... he wants me to read a Christian daily devotional book or whatever... I want him to leave, NOW!!!
Monday, August 6, 2007
Back...
I know, I know, Hello stranger! I feel like I haven't blogged in a year.
I've been away but not completely absent, I stop by once in a while to read blogs because that has become some sort of a pastime for me but I suppose I've been suffering from a serious case of bloggers block?
crap/thoughts last couple weeks...
Came out of the gym one sunny morning and discovered someone had put a fist-sized hole in my rear wind shield. Now I have no enemies that I'm aware of and I ain't nobodys baby daddy so WTF?! I thought about reporting it to the police but I simply couldn't imagine how I'd be met with anything but an "oh dear...tough luck" retort. By the way I checked with the gym, they don't have security cameras so that made the already hopeless situation even more so.
Hemorrhoids are painful...
moving on
Oh hell! How in the world does a 22 year old get hemorrhoids??! I thought it was strictly a geriatric disease or... condition? Good thing the pain only lasted a week because....do you know how many times you clench your butt crack? Did you know sometimes you clench it for absolutely no reason whatsoever? I mean you could just be readjusting your ass in your chair and *clench*. Well now I know. Everytime I stood up, sat down, squated or felt a chill, it hurt like a b!tch. But that was nothing compared to stretching my sphincter for one of those dry dumps that takes forever to crawl out of your ass (as my bad luck would have it, thats the only kind I got through this ordeal). I'm sorry if I grossed you...I've almost completely recovered thanks to warm "spitz" baths which involves sitting in a bucket of warm water... its quite relaxing, infact I highly recommend it for irritable assholes.
I hate Harry Potter and I'm glad the final book has been written and I won't have to run into any more wizards at the Barnes and Noble bookstore. Just out of curiosity I took a peek at the last page of the book and found that the annoying littletroll brat bastard alien looking bespectacled imp wizard boy genius with a heart of gold made it through and wasn't squished or impaled on a cross like I'd fantasized. This only means that before I die, I'll have to live through another onslaught of potter-mania UGH!
on why I hate Harry - hmm...funny thing is I loved the lord of the rings which I suppose falls into the same genre but there is...its just... It's the kids! Thats just it. if you're going to throw me into a whimsical fantasy *and plain ridiculous* land with witches and trolls and talking pictures and all that king of darkness bull-crap, you've absolutely got to make the story a lot more serious?...I mean, a lot more has to be at stake. And then as if to rub the silliness into my face, we've got three teenagers saving the day?? I opted to pass on this tripe! *no offense to the potter fans but I mean, come on*
I cleaned out my hard drive...well ok, only half of it and considering my seemingly perpetual state of sexual frustration, that means half of the best collection of pornographic scenes ever captured on film are gone, G-O-N-E, GONE! It had to be done. As crazy as this may seem, I occasionally need to store more "important" text files and pictures of clothed relatives and, you know, non sexually arousing aka relatively boring stuff like that. *the reference to clothed relatives in no way implies I'd rather see them naked...I'll gouge my eyes out first*
My dad is coming to visit and I'm a nervous wreck. This man has my mind in a choke hold. I swear it, I got my car washed, wax, serviced, vacuumed, got tires replaced and even cleaned out nooks I didn't know existed *how long do french fries last before they turn green?* . After all that, would you believe I gave it a once over and considered, if only very briefly, getting a new car on money I honestly don't have? This week, I'm cleaning out my place and I suppose I'll finally get around to making my bed because thats where the old man will be laying his head...maybe I'll end up replacing that bed altogether. You know, for a gay man, I am seriously NOT "representing".
A very "chesty" man at the gym made me realize, if I was heterosexual, I'd be totally a chest man or is it boobie man?
I've been away but not completely absent, I stop by once in a while to read blogs because that has become some sort of a pastime for me but I suppose I've been suffering from a serious case of bloggers block?
crap/thoughts last couple weeks...
Came out of the gym one sunny morning and discovered someone had put a fist-sized hole in my rear wind shield. Now I have no enemies that I'm aware of and I ain't nobodys baby daddy so WTF?! I thought about reporting it to the police but I simply couldn't imagine how I'd be met with anything but an "oh dear...tough luck" retort. By the way I checked with the gym, they don't have security cameras so that made the already hopeless situation even more so.
Hemorrhoids are painful...
moving on
Oh hell! How in the world does a 22 year old get hemorrhoids??! I thought it was strictly a geriatric disease or... condition? Good thing the pain only lasted a week because....do you know how many times you clench your butt crack? Did you know sometimes you clench it for absolutely no reason whatsoever? I mean you could just be readjusting your ass in your chair and *clench*. Well now I know. Everytime I stood up, sat down, squated or felt a chill, it hurt like a b!tch. But that was nothing compared to stretching my sphincter for one of those dry dumps that takes forever to crawl out of your ass (as my bad luck would have it, thats the only kind I got through this ordeal). I'm sorry if I grossed you...I've almost completely recovered thanks to warm "spitz" baths which involves sitting in a bucket of warm water... its quite relaxing, infact I highly recommend it for irritable assholes.
I hate Harry Potter and I'm glad the final book has been written and I won't have to run into any more wizards at the Barnes and Noble bookstore. Just out of curiosity I took a peek at the last page of the book and found that the annoying little
on why I hate Harry - hmm...funny thing is I loved the lord of the rings which I suppose falls into the same genre but there is...its just... It's the kids! Thats just it. if you're going to throw me into a whimsical fantasy *and plain ridiculous* land with witches and trolls and talking pictures and all that king of darkness bull-crap, you've absolutely got to make the story a lot more serious?...I mean, a lot more has to be at stake. And then as if to rub the silliness into my face, we've got three teenagers saving the day?? I opted to pass on this tripe! *no offense to the potter fans but I mean, come on*
I cleaned out my hard drive...well ok, only half of it and considering my seemingly perpetual state of sexual frustration, that means half of the best collection of pornographic scenes ever captured on film are gone, G-O-N-E, GONE! It had to be done. As crazy as this may seem, I occasionally need to store more "important" text files and pictures of clothed relatives and, you know, non sexually arousing aka relatively boring stuff like that. *the reference to clothed relatives in no way implies I'd rather see them naked...I'll gouge my eyes out first*
My dad is coming to visit and I'm a nervous wreck. This man has my mind in a choke hold. I swear it, I got my car washed, wax, serviced, vacuumed, got tires replaced and even cleaned out nooks I didn't know existed *how long do french fries last before they turn green?* . After all that, would you believe I gave it a once over and considered, if only very briefly, getting a new car on money I honestly don't have? This week, I'm cleaning out my place and I suppose I'll finally get around to making my bed because thats where the old man will be laying his head...maybe I'll end up replacing that bed altogether. You know, for a gay man, I am seriously NOT "representing".
A very "chesty" man at the gym made me realize, if I was heterosexual, I'd be totally a chest man or is it boobie man?
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Monday, July 9, 2007
My dad called yesterday and asked if I'd read "A Purpose Driven Life". Before I could respond he said he'd be willing to send it all the way from Nigeria if I hadn't. Word must've spread that I'm embracing American hedonism. Hmm..I wonder who snitched on me...
I actually own the book. It was given to me a couple of years ago by a very special person when I was going through an emotionally rough patch. I think I read a few chapters, I can't really remember. I guess it didn't make much of an impression on me or my circumstance. It's a christian book and like most christian books, it describes the life one ought to have and offers a 10 step program (in this case, an incredible 40! *sigh*) to getting it.
I have nothing against christian books.. really, I don't. They served their purpose for most christians who happen to be heterosexual but I am yet to find one that blends the sodomite in me with the promises of heaven without trying to eliminate the sodomite part.
The general christian concensus is that at some point in my life I got into homosexuality by accident (or choice) and got hooked on it like a crack-head to crack and its just a matter of effort on my part mixed in with "the grace of Jesus" and a hint of "annointing by the holy spirit" and poof, I'll be whole and "normal" again. How have they come by all this you might ask?? Well naturally, by the kind of reasoning that completely shuns the individual for a belief in some higher ideal that has never been since forever!
I wrestled for the longest time with my faith, trying to seek a cure for something that was as natural to me as the color of my hair but all I found in the bible was not a cure or compassion for my sufferings, but consequences, dire ones. Can you imagine if an omnipotent power says to you, you'll burn in hell because you are naturally left handed. How in the world can you change that?? Even if you decided to learn to use you right hand, it doesn't change the fact that your natural preference is your left. Can anyone say that "normal" or "natural" means being right handed when there are obviously left handed people all over the place. How does that make any sense?
It exasperates me!
And now the old man wants to gear me into leading a "purpose driven life". Driven to where exactly??? Surely not heaven...and certainly not happiness because that would mean embrassing my "sinful" self which is a big Christian no no and...well, we know how God is with his smiting hand.
Bad as this might seem, it isn't the worst of it. The real tragedy is I cannot just deny being christian. I can't tell myself that God does not exist and believe me, I have tried so many times with so many arguments and come to no conclusion at all...or rather, none that I can throughly convince myself with. God loves you...minus that part of you, makes no sense to me at all and yet it resonates so strongly with such painful conviction within me!
I am resigned to living in awe and wonder and worry...let those who believe without doubt,
things they have absolutely no comprehension of, continue. I on the other hand, cannot understand this being called God.
PS "Gay Christian"...oxymoron?
I actually own the book. It was given to me a couple of years ago by a very special person when I was going through an emotionally rough patch. I think I read a few chapters, I can't really remember. I guess it didn't make much of an impression on me or my circumstance. It's a christian book and like most christian books, it describes the life one ought to have and offers a 10 step program (in this case, an incredible 40! *sigh*) to getting it.
I have nothing against christian books.. really, I don't. They served their purpose for most christians who happen to be heterosexual but I am yet to find one that blends the sodomite in me with the promises of heaven without trying to eliminate the sodomite part.
The general christian concensus is that at some point in my life I got into homosexuality by accident (or choice) and got hooked on it like a crack-head to crack and its just a matter of effort on my part mixed in with "the grace of Jesus" and a hint of "annointing by the holy spirit" and poof, I'll be whole and "normal" again. How have they come by all this you might ask?? Well naturally, by the kind of reasoning that completely shuns the individual for a belief in some higher ideal that has never been since forever!
I wrestled for the longest time with my faith, trying to seek a cure for something that was as natural to me as the color of my hair but all I found in the bible was not a cure or compassion for my sufferings, but consequences, dire ones. Can you imagine if an omnipotent power says to you, you'll burn in hell because you are naturally left handed. How in the world can you change that?? Even if you decided to learn to use you right hand, it doesn't change the fact that your natural preference is your left. Can anyone say that "normal" or "natural" means being right handed when there are obviously left handed people all over the place. How does that make any sense?
It exasperates me!
And now the old man wants to gear me into leading a "purpose driven life". Driven to where exactly??? Surely not heaven...and certainly not happiness because that would mean embrassing my "sinful" self which is a big Christian no no and...well, we know how God is with his smiting hand.
Bad as this might seem, it isn't the worst of it. The real tragedy is I cannot just deny being christian. I can't tell myself that God does not exist and believe me, I have tried so many times with so many arguments and come to no conclusion at all...or rather, none that I can throughly convince myself with. God loves you...minus that part of you, makes no sense to me at all and yet it resonates so strongly with such painful conviction within me!
I am resigned to living in awe and wonder and worry...let those who believe without doubt,
things they have absolutely no comprehension of, continue. I on the other hand, cannot understand this being called God.
PS "Gay Christian"...oxymoron?
Saturday, June 30, 2007
You don't know what you got til...it opens it's mouth!
Have you ever bumped into someone so fine, so alluring, so utterly do-able that they had the power to throw off your breathing?
I have!
Every Monday, Wenesday and Friday between 11:15am and 1:30pm at the gym.
I don't actually get to "bump" into him
I'd have to be real close to do that
Real, REAL close to bump INTO him
Get it?
BUMP...INTO...HIM??
oh lord, I crack me up :)
Well I'll probably never be that close
So instead I observe him, out of the corner of my eye
between reps because afterall, that's why I'm at the gym
for my reps...not his pecs.
My favorite exercise??
SQUATS.
He squats, I watch and we both enjoy...I think.
Squats are supposed to isolate the glutes and pump them plump
It works, trust me!
I don't squat. I tried it once, it left my ass sizzling for 3 days...
painful enough for me to contemplate doing #2 on my feet. YEESH!!
On friday, I was on the leg extension machine when hubba hubba hubba *drool* walks in.
I'm not sure he's down with the dudes in quite the same way I am.
If he isn't, I'm pretty sure he could take me, in 2 seconds flat!
So I try not to notice him.
So I fail at trying not to notice him.
After he's done with his pre workout stretching on the mat (and being my regular horny self, I walked up to that mat and stretched him reeeeal good ... in my head of course! )
He begins walking in my direction and I could sense it
I fail in the middle of my rep because i'm suddenly out of breath
I look, subtly, a little away from him just to know if he's branched off elsewhere
He's still walking towards me and this time I'm certain he's coming for me
I try to find something to do...
crank out another another 10 reps, DUH!!
I manage 2 and fail again, out of breath.
He stops right infront of me and I'm still fighting everything in me not to notice this.
He says..
"Hi, Can I work in with you?"
...in the most quiet, most sissified tone I've ever heard from a post-pubescent human being.
I let him use it.
and I unabashedly watch him
and my breathing stabilizes.
He lost me at "Hi" :_(
Now don't get me wrong, he still has me raising lumber in my pants
and I'd take him in a second,
but I'd have to gag him first...
thats not so bad is it?
Actually, that could be the start of a whole new fantasy.
I have!
Every Monday, Wenesday and Friday between 11:15am and 1:30pm at the gym.
I don't actually get to "bump" into him
I'd have to be real close to do that
Real, REAL close to bump INTO him
Get it?
BUMP...INTO...HIM??
oh lord, I crack me up :)
Well I'll probably never be that close
So instead I observe him, out of the corner of my eye
between reps because afterall, that's why I'm at the gym
for my reps...not his pecs.
My favorite exercise??
SQUATS.
He squats, I watch and we both enjoy...I think.
Squats are supposed to isolate the glutes and pump them plump
It works, trust me!
I don't squat. I tried it once, it left my ass sizzling for 3 days...
painful enough for me to contemplate doing #2 on my feet. YEESH!!
On friday, I was on the leg extension machine when hubba hubba hubba *drool* walks in.
I'm not sure he's down with the dudes in quite the same way I am.
If he isn't, I'm pretty sure he could take me, in 2 seconds flat!
So I try not to notice him.
So I fail at trying not to notice him.
After he's done with his pre workout stretching on the mat (and being my regular horny self, I walked up to that mat and stretched him reeeeal good ... in my head of course! )
He begins walking in my direction and I could sense it
I fail in the middle of my rep because i'm suddenly out of breath
I look, subtly, a little away from him just to know if he's branched off elsewhere
He's still walking towards me and this time I'm certain he's coming for me
I try to find something to do...
crank out another another 10 reps, DUH!!
I manage 2 and fail again, out of breath.
He stops right infront of me and I'm still fighting everything in me not to notice this.
He says..
"Hi, Can I work in with you?"
...in the most quiet, most sissified tone I've ever heard from a post-pubescent human being.
I let him use it.
and I unabashedly watch him
and my breathing stabilizes.
He lost me at "Hi" :_(
Now don't get me wrong, he still has me raising lumber in my pants
and I'd take him in a second,
but I'd have to gag him first...
thats not so bad is it?
Actually, that could be the start of a whole new fantasy.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Fill-ant
I've been tagged.
To Greg, I'm honored!
Now it took me longer than I thought to list 8 random things about myself. I've been around for 22 years. My history and idiosyncrasies bore even me...but if you're asking Greg, you shall receive because you're cool like that.
1. I'm a tennis fanatic. I play and I watch...(definetely watch better than I play). I get a kick out of telling people that I'm really into Golf. Truth is I am only interested when Tiger Woods is playing.
2. I'm pretty bad at returning phone calls. My sister called me over a week ago and I still haven't returned her call.
3. I don't dream...not even wet dreams.
4. I don't want to believe in God, but I can't help myself.
5. Since my mother died, I've been strangely susceptible to emotional breakdowns at funerals thus, I try to avoid them altogether.
6. I find 90% of the people I see everyday as totally do-able! I'm that damn horny!
7. When I was about 12, my parents came across a box of new underwear under my pillow while I was away at school. I'd been masturbating to the scantily clad male model on the front cover the night before. They told me they found it in a very wierd, very unassuming way, like they were talking about the weather or an old friend. Someone once said "never underestimate the power of denial". That statement has become evidently true since my parents never mentioned or implied anything from it to this day.
8. I found out a couple of months ago that my sister, who I'd assumed was my blood sister for nearly 22 years was infact my step sister and I found out completely by accident. Everyone in my family knew except me and they still don't know that I am now aware of this. Me and dear old dad will be have a long talk very soon.
LATE ADDITION: I ABSOLUTELY LOVE SADE! If I ever have children (and thats a big 'IF'), may they be conceived to "Smooth Operator". Amen!
I believe I now have to tag other so..with sadistic pleasure, I hereby declare the following bloggers, TAGGED!
Black girl in prague
Mr. Jaja
NaijaDude
Mamarita
The Rules:
List 8 things about yourself. At the end of the post, tag and link to 8 other people. Leave a comment at those sites, letting them know they’ve been tagged, and asking them to come read the post so they know what to do
To Greg, I'm honored!
Now it took me longer than I thought to list 8 random things about myself. I've been around for 22 years. My history and idiosyncrasies bore even me...but if you're asking Greg, you shall receive because you're cool like that.
1. I'm a tennis fanatic. I play and I watch...(definetely watch better than I play). I get a kick out of telling people that I'm really into Golf. Truth is I am only interested when Tiger Woods is playing.
2. I'm pretty bad at returning phone calls. My sister called me over a week ago and I still haven't returned her call.
3. I don't dream...not even wet dreams.
4. I don't want to believe in God, but I can't help myself.
5. Since my mother died, I've been strangely susceptible to emotional breakdowns at funerals thus, I try to avoid them altogether.
6. I find 90% of the people I see everyday as totally do-able! I'm that damn horny!
7. When I was about 12, my parents came across a box of new underwear under my pillow while I was away at school. I'd been masturbating to the scantily clad male model on the front cover the night before. They told me they found it in a very wierd, very unassuming way, like they were talking about the weather or an old friend. Someone once said "never underestimate the power of denial". That statement has become evidently true since my parents never mentioned or implied anything from it to this day.
8. I found out a couple of months ago that my sister, who I'd assumed was my blood sister for nearly 22 years was infact my step sister and I found out completely by accident. Everyone in my family knew except me and they still don't know that I am now aware of this. Me and dear old dad will be have a long talk very soon.
LATE ADDITION: I ABSOLUTELY LOVE SADE! If I ever have children (and thats a big 'IF'), may they be conceived to "Smooth Operator". Amen!
I believe I now have to tag other so..with sadistic pleasure, I hereby declare the following bloggers, TAGGED!
Black girl in prague
Mr. Jaja
NaijaDude
Mamarita
The Rules:
List 8 things about yourself. At the end of the post, tag and link to 8 other people. Leave a comment at those sites, letting them know they’ve been tagged, and asking them to come read the post so they know what to do
Monday, June 18, 2007
:.-)
I'm having a bad day..
I have a zit the size of kilimanjaro on my left cheek.
No not that cheek you perv, the one on my face!
I can see it when I look down...
oh blasted pimple, why doth thou torment me so!
I skip washing my face for one blasted day and pay the ultimate price.
And worst of it all, I recall the exact moment when I chose sleep over a neutrogena face scrubbing.
Never again!
love,
Me and Zitty
I have a zit the size of kilimanjaro on my left cheek.
No not that cheek you perv, the one on my face!
I can see it when I look down...
oh blasted pimple, why doth thou torment me so!
I skip washing my face for one blasted day and pay the ultimate price.
And worst of it all, I recall the exact moment when I chose sleep over a neutrogena face scrubbing.
Never again!
love,
Me and Zitty
Saturday, June 16, 2007
A little "sexy" please?
Since I'm still in a horny mood, forgive me if this post lacks any kind of PROFUNDITY:)
........
Ok, that line was uncessary because...well...I have little in the way if profound thoughts on this blog.
I was holding a conversation with someone about something...I can't quite remember what and I'll tell you why. At some point in our little chat, he threw in the word "profundity"... I spent the rest of the time in some kind of semantic mind daze. Seriously, isn't that a smart sounding word? Here's another "betcha didn't know..." about me [how would you anyway :)] Anytime someone uses a..."smart" word like "Svengali" or "dilletante" or fucking "profundity" I get so fixated on that word that I may not follow the rest of whatever blah you're going on about...and I might even think you're a genius afterwards... and on a good day, I'll worship you. Such is the magnitude of my inferiority complex. Tis sad I know.
Thats by the way...
I've been going to the gym everyday for the last 21/2 weeks and while I've noticed a little 3 pack...might be 4, wait.... it's definitely 3, that little bump doesn't count...I'm getting impatient and honestly, pumping iron is as boring as it sounds. It's nothing like those tv commercials where a fat lady is rolling around on the floor on her back like a friggin beetle, attempting what might be assumed to be crunches and then cut to 2 weeks later, she's lost the equivalent of a full grown Somalian man. I though since I was already skinny to begin with, I'd have a head start and the sexy would be all over me by now. NOT SO! Well so what if my reps go a little like 1,2,3,6,7,10,done. It's been 2 weeks! Don't I get brownie points for perseverance? And by brownie points I mean bulging biceps and defined pecs?...and a little junk back there won't hurt either!
Well I will not be deterred. If Justin Timberlake can carve out abs on that pseudo-manly body of his and have the audacity to herald his coming with the phrase "bringing sexy back"...by God I'll get whats coming to me - ass, abs, pecs, arms and all!!!
BTW If you think I sound vain, I completely agree with you.
........
Ok, that line was uncessary because...well...I have little in the way if profound thoughts on this blog.
I was holding a conversation with someone about something...I can't quite remember what and I'll tell you why. At some point in our little chat, he threw in the word "profundity"... I spent the rest of the time in some kind of semantic mind daze. Seriously, isn't that a smart sounding word? Here's another "betcha didn't know..." about me [how would you anyway :)] Anytime someone uses a..."smart" word like "Svengali" or "dilletante" or fucking "profundity" I get so fixated on that word that I may not follow the rest of whatever blah you're going on about...and I might even think you're a genius afterwards... and on a good day, I'll worship you. Such is the magnitude of my inferiority complex. Tis sad I know.
Thats by the way...
I've been going to the gym everyday for the last 21/2 weeks and while I've noticed a little 3 pack...might be 4, wait.... it's definitely 3, that little bump doesn't count...I'm getting impatient and honestly, pumping iron is as boring as it sounds. It's nothing like those tv commercials where a fat lady is rolling around on the floor on her back like a friggin beetle, attempting what might be assumed to be crunches and then cut to 2 weeks later, she's lost the equivalent of a full grown Somalian man. I though since I was already skinny to begin with, I'd have a head start and the sexy would be all over me by now. NOT SO! Well so what if my reps go a little like 1,2,3,6,7,10,done. It's been 2 weeks! Don't I get brownie points for perseverance? And by brownie points I mean bulging biceps and defined pecs?...and a little junk back there won't hurt either!
Well I will not be deterred. If Justin Timberlake can carve out abs on that pseudo-manly body of his and have the audacity to herald his coming with the phrase "bringing sexy back"...by God I'll get whats coming to me - ass, abs, pecs, arms and all!!!
BTW If you think I sound vain, I completely agree with you.
Friday, June 15, 2007
Random Queer bit 1
I once bought my little cousin the Sound of Music DVD for Christmas.
I knew she hated musicals but I explained this one was a classic.
She still hated it!
I snuck it out of her room a couple of times
and watched it late at night
and lip synced to every song
and even shed a few tears at the end.
BTW Mr. Von Trapp ...friggin HOT!
I used to pitch major tent when he was all strict with the children.
I'm sure I'd have no trouble standing erect at the sound of his whistle :)
I love men in uniforms...especially tight military uniforms
Oh lordy..
..so what was this post about again???
I knew she hated musicals but I explained this one was a classic.
She still hated it!
I snuck it out of her room a couple of times
and watched it late at night
and lip synced to every song
and even shed a few tears at the end.
BTW Mr. Von Trapp ...friggin HOT!
I used to pitch major tent when he was all strict with the children.
I'm sure I'd have no trouble standing erect at the sound of his whistle :)
I love men in uniforms...especially tight military uniforms
Oh lordy..
..so what was this post about again???
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Random "drive" down memory lane
I flunked my driving test twice before getting my license.
How I flunked the first one?
Got in the car with the instructor.
She said start your engine, I did.
She said drive to the exit, I did.
She said make a right, I turned left.
She promptly began writing.
I apologised profusely. She just nodded and kept on writing.
Mid way through the course, she was still writing.
I asked if I was failing just to get some encouragement.
She said no...
I had already failed.
B!TCH!
How I flunked the second one?
I put on my seatbelt
Adjusted my mirrors
Looked both ways
Put my signals on
Merged seemlessly into traffic
Smiled at instructor, He didn't smile back. But heck, he wasn't writing. That was good..
drove half a mile
parallel parked successfully on my first try, BOOYAKA!
Smiled at the instructor, He didn't smile back. Still wasn't writing. That was good..
Staring down at the home stretch, I could see the finish line.
One more turn to make.
The turn gets closer....and closer...and closer and finaly, I turn........no signal. I say a little prayer
Hope he doesn't notice, besides the test was almost over anyway.
We get to the end. I turn to him, smile and the son of a gun starts writing, and he writes and writes and writes and what was he writing you ask?
well quite a bit actually,
parallel parked past the curb, into the grass...accelerates during turns... doesn't ease into a stop...etc
and oh yea, TURNS WITHOUT SIGNALS!
My Cousins advice..."Why don't you just pass the damn test!"
How I flunked the first one?
Got in the car with the instructor.
She said start your engine, I did.
She said drive to the exit, I did.
She said make a right, I turned left.
She promptly began writing.
I apologised profusely. She just nodded and kept on writing.
Mid way through the course, she was still writing.
I asked if I was failing just to get some encouragement.
She said no...
I had already failed.
B!TCH!
How I flunked the second one?
I put on my seatbelt
Adjusted my mirrors
Looked both ways
Put my signals on
Merged seemlessly into traffic
Smiled at instructor, He didn't smile back. But heck, he wasn't writing. That was good..
drove half a mile
parallel parked successfully on my first try, BOOYAKA!
Smiled at the instructor, He didn't smile back. Still wasn't writing. That was good..
Staring down at the home stretch, I could see the finish line.
One more turn to make.
The turn gets closer....and closer...and closer and finaly, I turn........no signal. I say a little prayer
Hope he doesn't notice, besides the test was almost over anyway.
We get to the end. I turn to him, smile and the son of a gun starts writing, and he writes and writes and writes and what was he writing you ask?
well quite a bit actually,
parallel parked past the curb, into the grass...accelerates during turns... doesn't ease into a stop...etc
and oh yea, TURNS WITHOUT SIGNALS!
My Cousins advice..."Why don't you just pass the damn test!"
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Me + My Hand!
I've been so horny lately, last night I dreamt of being a porn star, complete with enormous..umm, talent? not to say I'm carrying around a third pinkie in real life, just that in my dream it was truly larger than life.
I need to get laid...with someone else. I'm tired of this masturbation crap!
but you know I'm not going stop...right?
RIGHT!
I need to get laid...with someone else. I'm tired of this masturbation crap!
but you know I'm not going stop...right?
RIGHT!
Monday, June 11, 2007
Cop this, Cop that.. and still empty!
Got caught twice in my car by cops...
Twice in one week.
No I wasn't smoking pot
No was I getting head
Just sitting there both times...alone...minding my buisness.
Coincidence? of course!
Still made me go hmmm..
First time was on Tuesday.
Arrived home.
Was a little dark but... only 9:30pm...too early for spooks, too late for angels.
sat in my car getting my stuff together
saw headlights coming my way, police cruiser...
F!ck!
Tried to act normal.
Funny, I wasn't doing anything abnormal.
cruiser drove past me...PHEW!!
Then he stopped
Now wait a dog gone sec...
pulls up in reverse to a stop opposite my car
on the other side of the street.
SH!T, DaMn, FVCk, etcetera, etcetera.
HE walked up next to my car
Stunned my eyes with with his torch light
Guilty of what?
sitting in my car???
sitting in my car in the dark???
sitting in my car in the dark in a good neighborhood???
Twice in one week.
No I wasn't smoking pot
No was I getting head
Just sitting there both times...alone...minding my buisness.
Coincidence? of course!
Still made me go hmmm..
First time was on Tuesday.
Arrived home.
Was a little dark but... only 9:30pm...too early for spooks, too late for angels.
sat in my car getting my stuff together
saw headlights coming my way, police cruiser...
F!ck!
Tried to act normal.
Funny, I wasn't doing anything abnormal.
cruiser drove past me...PHEW!!
Then he stopped
Now wait a dog gone sec...
pulls up in reverse to a stop opposite my car
on the other side of the street.
SH!T, DaMn, FVCk, etcetera, etcetera.
HE walked up next to my car
Stunned my eyes with with his torch light
Guilty of what?
sitting in my car???
sitting in my car in the dark???
sitting in my car in the dark in a good neighborhood???
I couldn't figure it out
NOTE: Left out the more obvious "sitting in my car in the dark in a good neighborhood while being black"...I don't rush to such conclusions...but it sure did cross my mind later on!
Officer: Hello
Me: Hi
Officer: What are you doing?
Me: Getting out of my car
Officer: You live here?
Me: Yes, you?
Officer: Where's your house?
Me: Back there *pointing in the general direction*
Officer: Yes but whats your address
Me: *I give it to him and wonder afterwards if this was smart but did I really have options?*
Officer: Well ok, I was just checking to see if umm everything was fine *breaks out a smile*
Me: Thank you *break out my "sonofabitch" scowl*
Gets back into his car and slowly drives off
I mean real slow, like I could go for a walk with his car at that speed.
I get out of my car and walk to my door
I can still see him
He can definitely still see me
WTF was that about?
.............................................
Second time, Friday.
On my way from work
beautiful day outside!
Got me some fast food
Stopped at the mall but stayed in my car
in the parking lot...with other vehicles
Been engrossed with Dostoyevsky all day
had to finish a thrilling chapter...and eat lunch
30mins into the read
cruiser pulls in the lot next to me
"are you F!king kidding me??"
2 officers step out
Guilty of what this time?
Reading and eating lunch while attempting to steal a vehicle?
Absurd?
Thats all I could come up with!
Officer 1: Hey bro, what you doing here?
Me: umm..
Officer 2: Just stopped by to eat?
Me: Yeah
Officer 2: *breaks out in a laught that had a tinge of mockery to it*
Officer 1: What you got there...you reading my man?
Officer 2: *laugh is definitely insulting now*
Officer 1: Let me see what you got there my man
Me: *Turn the book over to reveal the title*
Officer 1: Crime and Punishment
*They both break out laughing, the irony eludes me for a little while and then I crack a smile*
Officer 1: Ok man, just be careful...don't leave any electronics or nothin in your car alright?
Me: Sure.
I put my food and book away and drive off
But only after I make sure they are gone.
So what lesson is to be learned...?
Still thinking, help me out!
Saturday, June 2, 2007
New York! New York! What a wonderful town
Woke up this morning feeling super excited about my trip to NY. I don't know why but everytime I get to go there, the butterflies in my stomach sh!t their pants...I love it! I also decided to buy me some new polo shirts. I did my math and decided that I could probably afford 1 shirt comfortably without resorting to living on chicken pot pies and tap water until pay day. I refuse to use credit cards, they are evil!
Stopped by JC Penny, huge department store or is it a clothing store? I've never really bothered to look around. Tried a couple of shirts...I hate spending money on clothes ugh! I would've probably walked out with nothing *too many damn options, its overwhelming*...thankfully I zeroed in on a 2-for-1 sale. For the price of a polo shirt, you get a free T-shirt..brilliant!!! And get this, they had them matched up for you, they had the right colored T-shirt already inside the Polo so you didn't have to play stylist for an extra 30 mins...that sealed the deal right there. It was obvious, this sale was speaking to me in my language. Picked up a cool polo, white with horizontal blue and green stripes *I can wear horizontal coz i'm slim hehehehe* and it came with a tan T-shirt. Was it a good look? Who the F cares, I'm not one to pass up a good deal to make a fashion statement. Got in my car and immediately changed into the shirt and polo...I love the smell of new clothes and I thought they not only smelled nice, they fit right too :)
I met up with Mike, Kathy and .... can't remember her name...hmm.... lets just call her Ms. B - *B for boringain'tgotnothingonme*. We all got in Kathy's car and drove off. She was undecided about driving back to New Jersey because her parents lived in NY and she hadn't seen them since school closed. Mike like the loving wanna-be boyfriend told her to "stay with her mother" because "I'm sure she misses you so much" *oh brother gimme a bloody break, they speak on the phone every freaking day and NY is only an hour away*...I was thinking how my ass was going to get back home if she decided to stay...by train no doubt but considering all the cash I knew I'd be spending in NY, I was going to make Mike pay for the train ride back *spending money in NY is the easiest thing to do, you only have to blink and you'd swear the money spends itself* ...I can be unreasonably cheap and cruel I guess.
Kathy drove us to her parents place all the way in Queens but didn't park in front of it, in fact I still don't know where she lives because she didn't go in to see her folks or point the place out to us. I suppose she didn't want her parents meeting us for whatever reason ... and certainly not with a black boy *I'm sorry but i couldn't help thinking this was part of it although it probably wasn't*. Mike made a little fuss over this...I didn't care, just wanted to go to Manhattan...Ms. B was still with us *I may never mention her again because she was always an after thought through out the trip*.
Still standing close to her house, Kathy declares that she's hungry *girl we're standing right next to your place i thought, go in and feed! I didn't say this but I came close*... she suggested we catch a train .... was it uptown or downtown... I can't remember, anyway it landed us smack in Chinatown. It seemed like I just walked into a third world market place, it had all the familiar symptoms...open shops selling cheap goods...people milling about through narrow over-crowded roads...the over bearing smell of food in the air...WTF was I doing here, I didn't come to America go see this mess...this was what I was running from ugh! I asked Mike if this place in any way resembled China and he said yes *note to self, take China off your list of places of interest*. After practically chasing Kathy through the streets occasionally bumping into random people, she led us into a little cafe. It was small, cute...and crowded! The doors to the place were left open so you could observe everything going on outside weather you wanted to or not...this also meant there were no air conditions...i can't imagine they needed ovens to cook, the food probably cooked itself on its way from Kitchen to customer, it was that damn hot!
We also decided to take pictures here...we took a bunch...in nearly half of them, I was a black splotch in a white shirt and jeans. They didn't say anything when they saw these pictures even though i swear the most visually gifted person could hardly tell where my hair ended and my face began. They of course glowed like angels in everyone of the shots...curse of the African!
After Kathy had her fill, we took another train out to Times Square...actually, i believe we stopped at 42nd street and walked towards Times Square...I'm not so sure anymore, these streets confuse the heck out of me. On our way we decide to rest a little at Bryant park. I've never been in there before...as I walked in, I thought it look like a huge painting albeit in 3D. just imagine the hustle and bustle of crazy Manhattan and then picture right smack in the middle, a pristine litte lawn with people sitting around in little groups on restaurant type chairs some laying down on the grass looking into the sky, very quiet, very peaceful. I had to smile a bit at the odd-ness of this place...and then very quickly I thought to myself...these people are so F!ING lazy...it just felt like there was so much out there going on and here were these bunch of "losers" laying around doing nothing! It pissed me off for a second...or I think until I got me a chair and became one of them.
We took some more pictures, I was still a black splotch in most...
After Idling away about a half hour we continue our trek towards times square, taking pictures along the way of street performers...the things these break dancers can do while balanced on their heads are nothing short of incredible. We got to the heart of NYC...the lights were on and it looked spectacular....I felt like screaming...something very exciting about this place and I think beyond the razzle dazzle of the neon lights , its the people there who are equally marveled by it all, that elevate the experience. I came to spend a day in NY with nothing really planned out but at that moment I felt like Time Square was the reason I came.
After I snapped out of my hypnotic gaze and wiped the drool off my mouth, we proceeded to have a drink at a small cafe nearby...Mike bought a six-pack and we played a very corny game of "dare"...I'd explain it but it's not necessary, it was very corny.
here's a quirky "betcha didn't know..." about me...
I don't know why but I can't get by any reflective surface without checking out my ass...I just have to look at it, maybe to make sure its still there or hasn't flattened out lol. So while we were playing this inane game, i decided to use the toilet. got there and there was this huge mirror off on one wall...well I ended up just checking out my ass in the mirror *no i didn't take my pants off*...it looked good, i was satisfied with it :)
I have to end this entry...Kathy ended up driving us all back thank heavens and I'm home about to curl up in bed and doze off...I love NY, I'm going to live there someday....something about it excites me like New Jersey never has.
Stopped by JC Penny, huge department store or is it a clothing store? I've never really bothered to look around. Tried a couple of shirts...I hate spending money on clothes ugh! I would've probably walked out with nothing *too many damn options, its overwhelming*...thankfully I zeroed in on a 2-for-1 sale. For the price of a polo shirt, you get a free T-shirt..brilliant!!! And get this, they had them matched up for you, they had the right colored T-shirt already inside the Polo so you didn't have to play stylist for an extra 30 mins...that sealed the deal right there. It was obvious, this sale was speaking to me in my language. Picked up a cool polo, white with horizontal blue and green stripes *I can wear horizontal coz i'm slim hehehehe* and it came with a tan T-shirt. Was it a good look? Who the F cares, I'm not one to pass up a good deal to make a fashion statement. Got in my car and immediately changed into the shirt and polo...I love the smell of new clothes and I thought they not only smelled nice, they fit right too :)
I met up with Mike, Kathy and .... can't remember her name...hmm.... lets just call her Ms. B - *B for boringain'tgotnothingonme*. We all got in Kathy's car and drove off. She was undecided about driving back to New Jersey because her parents lived in NY and she hadn't seen them since school closed. Mike like the loving wanna-be boyfriend told her to "stay with her mother" because "I'm sure she misses you so much" *oh brother gimme a bloody break, they speak on the phone every freaking day and NY is only an hour away*...I was thinking how my ass was going to get back home if she decided to stay...by train no doubt but considering all the cash I knew I'd be spending in NY, I was going to make Mike pay for the train ride back *spending money in NY is the easiest thing to do, you only have to blink and you'd swear the money spends itself* ...I can be unreasonably cheap and cruel I guess.
Kathy drove us to her parents place all the way in Queens but didn't park in front of it, in fact I still don't know where she lives because she didn't go in to see her folks or point the place out to us. I suppose she didn't want her parents meeting us for whatever reason ... and certainly not with a black boy *I'm sorry but i couldn't help thinking this was part of it although it probably wasn't*. Mike made a little fuss over this...I didn't care, just wanted to go to Manhattan...Ms. B was still with us *I may never mention her again because she was always an after thought through out the trip*.
Still standing close to her house, Kathy declares that she's hungry *girl we're standing right next to your place i thought, go in and feed! I didn't say this but I came close*... she suggested we catch a train .... was it uptown or downtown... I can't remember, anyway it landed us smack in Chinatown. It seemed like I just walked into a third world market place, it had all the familiar symptoms...open shops selling cheap goods...people milling about through narrow over-crowded roads...the over bearing smell of food in the air...WTF was I doing here, I didn't come to America go see this mess...this was what I was running from ugh! I asked Mike if this place in any way resembled China and he said yes *note to self, take China off your list of places of interest*. After practically chasing Kathy through the streets occasionally bumping into random people, she led us into a little cafe. It was small, cute...and crowded! The doors to the place were left open so you could observe everything going on outside weather you wanted to or not...this also meant there were no air conditions...i can't imagine they needed ovens to cook, the food probably cooked itself on its way from Kitchen to customer, it was that damn hot!
We also decided to take pictures here...we took a bunch...in nearly half of them, I was a black splotch in a white shirt and jeans. They didn't say anything when they saw these pictures even though i swear the most visually gifted person could hardly tell where my hair ended and my face began. They of course glowed like angels in everyone of the shots...curse of the African!
After Kathy had her fill, we took another train out to Times Square...actually, i believe we stopped at 42nd street and walked towards Times Square...I'm not so sure anymore, these streets confuse the heck out of me. On our way we decide to rest a little at Bryant park. I've never been in there before...as I walked in, I thought it look like a huge painting albeit in 3D. just imagine the hustle and bustle of crazy Manhattan and then picture right smack in the middle, a pristine litte lawn with people sitting around in little groups on restaurant type chairs some laying down on the grass looking into the sky, very quiet, very peaceful. I had to smile a bit at the odd-ness of this place...and then very quickly I thought to myself...these people are so F!ING lazy...it just felt like there was so much out there going on and here were these bunch of "losers" laying around doing nothing! It pissed me off for a second...or I think until I got me a chair and became one of them.
We took some more pictures, I was still a black splotch in most...
After Idling away about a half hour we continue our trek towards times square, taking pictures along the way of street performers...the things these break dancers can do while balanced on their heads are nothing short of incredible. We got to the heart of NYC...the lights were on and it looked spectacular....I felt like screaming...something very exciting about this place and I think beyond the razzle dazzle of the neon lights , its the people there who are equally marveled by it all, that elevate the experience. I came to spend a day in NY with nothing really planned out but at that moment I felt like Time Square was the reason I came.
After I snapped out of my hypnotic gaze and wiped the drool off my mouth, we proceeded to have a drink at a small cafe nearby...Mike bought a six-pack and we played a very corny game of "dare"...I'd explain it but it's not necessary, it was very corny.
here's a quirky "betcha didn't know..." about me...
I don't know why but I can't get by any reflective surface without checking out my ass...I just have to look at it, maybe to make sure its still there or hasn't flattened out lol. So while we were playing this inane game, i decided to use the toilet. got there and there was this huge mirror off on one wall...well I ended up just checking out my ass in the mirror *no i didn't take my pants off*...it looked good, i was satisfied with it :)
I have to end this entry...Kathy ended up driving us all back thank heavens and I'm home about to curl up in bed and doze off...I love NY, I'm going to live there someday....something about it excites me like New Jersey never has.
Friday, June 1, 2007
Yesterday's Dance Madness
Boring day thus far...I'm at work. Tyrone my handsome Jamaican co-worker just left for the day, he offered to buy me lunch, how sweet. I declined. He's always complaining to me about money...he says he never has enough with all the bills he has to pay *2 to be exact*. I let him bounce his sorry tales of dearth and dissatisfaction off my ear drums. I've never worked up enough nerve to tell him how uninterested I am about his financial affairs...I guess I feel its rude to do that.
Yesterday I spent the evening with Mike and Kathy. Mike is my friend from my sophomore year. He's Chinese-american and as close to a best friend I've had since I came to this country. Kathy I met through Mike...she's also Chinese and a student and has a boyfriend in Atlanta. The way these two have been hanging out, all inseperable-like, I'm beginning to wonder if there is a budding romance...btw Mike knows all about her boyfriend. I want to tell Mike that as soon as she graduates she'll dump his ass for her real boyfriend *race has something to do with my gut feeling, boyfriend is white.* Thats just speculation on my part though, I could be very wrong so I'm not going to say nada! If I'm right and his heart gets broken, it'll heal and he'll be the wiser, if i'm wrong...i'm wrong, and they both live happily ever after.
So we were hanging out, all three of us, listening to music from youtube when Kathy caught the dancing bug and started to "dip it low" and shimmy up slow in the middle of the room...I told her she danced well...actually I only said this because Mike said so first and i felt their eyes nagging me for acknowledgment... fishing for compliments? ... whatever! I took the bait and she proceeded to convulse...err... I mean dance more feverishly than ever. She loved the attention...I thought to myself, if she ever needed extra cash, she could dance for the frat boys on college ave...with the breasts jiggling and the ass gyrating and the hands gropping both, she'll be a frat superstar.
I thought I'd only have to suffer through this girl's "dance" by watching it. HA! Mike got up right next to her and began this slow sway with his hips that...i suppose was...dancing? .... could it be? He had his hands in the air switching from "pushing the ceiling" to that up and down hand wave you see at hip hop concerts all the while lip synching to eminems "lose yourself". I should add here that the music had switched from wamdue project's "king of my castle", dance music through and through, to eminem's rap but my girl Kathy either didn't notice or didn't care, her dancing had not changed at all. I panicked. I knew it was a matter of time before I'd be obligated to join the impromptu burst of merriment and I couldn't remember the last time my body had moved in rhythm to music. Damn you Mike, betrayer par excellence!
Sure enough Mike asked...make that TOLD me to get up on the dance floor...trying not to look the fool *go figure* I walk over to them and it really hits me that I can't dance to crazy, fast, "I'm a rhythm on acid" type of music, case in point, madonna's "ray of light" which Kathy had switch to but, still doing the same dance as before...I mean put me in a sexy situation... lights dim, bodies swaying to the rhythm of a soft R&B beat...montel jordan... "get it on tonite" oohh yea, you've got me in my element...but this, this was madness , the kind best left to the pro's. They wouldn't let me change the music. They heard a note of Mary J's "Family Affair" and concluded it was waaaay to slow.
Sure enough Mike asked...make that TOLD me to get up on the dance floor...trying not to look the fool *go figure* I walk over to them and it really hits me that I can't dance to crazy, fast, "I'm a rhythm on acid" type of music, case in point, madonna's "ray of light" which Kathy had switch to but, still doing the same dance as before...I mean put me in a sexy situation... lights dim, bodies swaying to the rhythm of a soft R&B beat...montel jordan... "get it on tonite" oohh yea, you've got me in my element...but this, this was madness , the kind best left to the pro's. They wouldn't let me change the music. They heard a note of Mary J's "Family Affair" and concluded it was waaaay to slow.
So I just stood there, periodically moving an arm, shaking a leg literally and snapping my neck when I deemed that appropriate. Thankfully they wore themselves out and I decided to leave before they thought to include me in an encore.
Got home to peace and quiet...no more dancing for me. I'll be the guy in the club seated at the bar or standing in the shadows, too cool to dance to madonna! Ya'll can go break a leg and I'll say that with a voodoo doll in one hand and a sledghammer in the other.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Maybe I'm right, maybe you're right...who's to say?
Last week my uncle sat me down and asked why I'd stopped going to church, only the second time we'd had this conversation. I just sat there and stared back at him ... sort of looking through him really, I had no answer I could share with him and I was also well aware of what questions like this meant. they may seem well intended but I know from experience that it isn't really asked to find out anything about you, its a precursor to a lecture on how you ought to be thinking. Whatever reasons I give are going to be shut down and dismissed and I'll end up feeling like I'm not being responsible with my life, or I'm certainly not thinking about life in the highly cerebral way only real church-going christians do.
So faced with that sort of dead-end situation, I said I really had no reason for not going and mumbled some BS about school work and the hardships of living in America (*yea in my head, i was rolling my eyes too*) then I sat back and listened or at least I tried to. Sure enough he didn't feel the need to probe any further, he just went right into how I ought to take my spiritual life seriously (where he got the idea that I had one is beyond me but I guess its an easier lecture if this is assumed), fellowship streghtens faith, God loves you and all that good spiritual stuff thats supposed to bring me to tears and make me understand how totally foolish i've been. Then he asked if I had any questions and I gladly said no hoping (but knowing better) that the bell had rung and lecture was over...nope...more "God understands everything you're going through..." and I slowly start to focus my attention on the whitish spec right next to his right eye, a pimple? a crumb? shit...does my uncle use white powder? WTF is that speck, should I tell him about it? Then deciding its probably not a good idea to interrupt his sermon for a spec of white whatever, I go back to listening and discover he's about done...sort of giving a summary of all he'd just said.
He pauses, looks at me like i'm some puppy about to be put down and sighs...I sit there thinking, maybe I am a lost cause, maybe I don't know what the hell i'm doing with my life, maybe there is a God up in heaven, eyes brimming with pity, looking at me like my uncle is right now, maybe, maybe, maybe...but what makes my uncle so sure of himself? Aren't we both just as clueless about life as the priest on his pulpit or the president or even dare I say, Oprah? Don't we all start at one point in life and move relentlessly in one direction to an end? Has there been anyone who has lived in reverse, starting from death and ending in birth? So what can he tell me about my future when he is just as clueless about his as I am about mine? So I don't go to church and he does, what about it? He might say God is an entity out there far far away, I might say, he's here on earth. Who's to say he's right and I'm wrong or vice versa. If i chose to live my life in one way out of the infinite number of ways available to me, how can he convince me, with any kind of integrity that I am wrong and he is right?
WHAT MAKES HIM SO F*ING SURE!
So faced with that sort of dead-end situation, I said I really had no reason for not going and mumbled some BS about school work and the hardships of living in America (*yea in my head, i was rolling my eyes too*) then I sat back and listened or at least I tried to. Sure enough he didn't feel the need to probe any further, he just went right into how I ought to take my spiritual life seriously (where he got the idea that I had one is beyond me but I guess its an easier lecture if this is assumed), fellowship streghtens faith, God loves you and all that good spiritual stuff thats supposed to bring me to tears and make me understand how totally foolish i've been. Then he asked if I had any questions and I gladly said no hoping (but knowing better) that the bell had rung and lecture was over...nope...more "God understands everything you're going through..." and I slowly start to focus my attention on the whitish spec right next to his right eye, a pimple? a crumb? shit...does my uncle use white powder? WTF is that speck, should I tell him about it? Then deciding its probably not a good idea to interrupt his sermon for a spec of white whatever, I go back to listening and discover he's about done...sort of giving a summary of all he'd just said.
He pauses, looks at me like i'm some puppy about to be put down and sighs...I sit there thinking, maybe I am a lost cause, maybe I don't know what the hell i'm doing with my life, maybe there is a God up in heaven, eyes brimming with pity, looking at me like my uncle is right now, maybe, maybe, maybe...but what makes my uncle so sure of himself? Aren't we both just as clueless about life as the priest on his pulpit or the president or even dare I say, Oprah? Don't we all start at one point in life and move relentlessly in one direction to an end? Has there been anyone who has lived in reverse, starting from death and ending in birth? So what can he tell me about my future when he is just as clueless about his as I am about mine? So I don't go to church and he does, what about it? He might say God is an entity out there far far away, I might say, he's here on earth. Who's to say he's right and I'm wrong or vice versa. If i chose to live my life in one way out of the infinite number of ways available to me, how can he convince me, with any kind of integrity that I am wrong and he is right?
WHAT MAKES HIM SO F*ING SURE!
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Happy Birthday to me :)
"Walls in my closet ch.21" is moving on to ch. 22 today. Yup! It's my birthday and I feel lucky to be alive and sane. Wish me more luck.
I'm older, I'm broke, I may even be pathological...but i'm here!
I'm older, I'm broke, I may even be pathological...but i'm here!
Monday, May 14, 2007
Through with finals and school for this semester...the semester sucked like all the others and I'm glad its all over! Nothing much going on except hopefully, I'll be getting a computer of my own soon (yay!). That way I can update this blog from home rather than from work...all this money saved just for one computer. Somehow I feel as though I'm on the losing end of a bargain, one computer for over a $1000 just doesn't seem fair! Don't you hate letting go of hard earned money even for things you know you need? Seems as though nothing can ever been cheap enough and PS, the only discounts that mean anything to me are free giveaways...
I was reading another website and ran across some amazingly dumb and yet oddly entertaining questions which cracked me up so much I thought I'd write them down.. (If anyone can answer these questions please go right ahead, I just laughed).
Q1. Can sour cream go bad? If so, how can you tell? Please answer soon, because I have an unopened container in the back of my refrigerator with an expiration date of April 1996.
Q2. When I am walking my dog - considering he has twice as many legs as I do - is he getting as much excercise as I am or half as much?
Q3. When you pick something up so your hands are full, why does your nose or someplace else on your face start to itch?
Q4. Do fish ever sneeze?
Q5. If the earth were to stop revolving, what would happen to Silas, the 200-pound man standing on my lawn? How far would he slide?
Q6. Don't you think - anatomically speaking - men would be more comfortable in skirts and women in pants?
Q7. What size were big hail stones before the game of golf was invented?
Q8. In the extreme Northern and Southern Hemisphere, where it is light for half the year and dark for the other half, does a rooster crow only once a year?
Q9. Could leap year be switched from Feb. 29 to June 31? It would give us an extra day of summer and one less day of winter. (*brilliant, why hasn't anyone answered this yet!*)
Q10. Suppose the hokey-pokey is what it's all about?
I was reading another website and ran across some amazingly dumb and yet oddly entertaining questions which cracked me up so much I thought I'd write them down.. (If anyone can answer these questions please go right ahead, I just laughed).
Q1. Can sour cream go bad? If so, how can you tell? Please answer soon, because I have an unopened container in the back of my refrigerator with an expiration date of April 1996.
Q2. When I am walking my dog - considering he has twice as many legs as I do - is he getting as much excercise as I am or half as much?
Q3. When you pick something up so your hands are full, why does your nose or someplace else on your face start to itch?
Q4. Do fish ever sneeze?
Q5. If the earth were to stop revolving, what would happen to Silas, the 200-pound man standing on my lawn? How far would he slide?
Q6. Don't you think - anatomically speaking - men would be more comfortable in skirts and women in pants?
Q7. What size were big hail stones before the game of golf was invented?
Q8. In the extreme Northern and Southern Hemisphere, where it is light for half the year and dark for the other half, does a rooster crow only once a year?
Q9. Could leap year be switched from Feb. 29 to June 31? It would give us an extra day of summer and one less day of winter. (*brilliant, why hasn't anyone answered this yet!*)
Q10. Suppose the hokey-pokey is what it's all about?
Saturday, April 28, 2007
I'm Taking Finals...
Finals week is here and I'm in a mad panic. Lots to do, little time to play with so I thought I'd just post something I found doing ... umm... some ...umm.... research? for school. You know how it is with umm...professors. They're always ... always stressing about research and studying... and ummm...things of that nature. Soooo I hope you find it as educational as I did.
http://www.blackpeopleloveus.com/index.html
I would say more but as you can see, I'm spending my time doing some serious work so I'll see you when I'll see you which will be after I'm done doing all my important work .... and research!
Peace
Lose this day loitering, 'Twill be the same story Tomorrow -- and the next more dilatory. Then indecision brings its own delays, and days are lost lamenting overdays! Are you ernest? Seize this very minute! What you can do, or dream you can - begin it! Courage has genius, power and magic in it. Only engage, and the mind grows heated. Begin it, and the work will be completed.-- Goethe
Damn you Goethe! Can't a brother get a break!
http://www.blackpeopleloveus.com/index.html
I would say more but as you can see, I'm spending my time doing some serious work so I'll see you when I'll see you which will be after I'm done doing all my important work .... and research!
Peace
Lose this day loitering, 'Twill be the same story Tomorrow -- and the next more dilatory. Then indecision brings its own delays, and days are lost lamenting overdays! Are you ernest? Seize this very minute! What you can do, or dream you can - begin it! Courage has genius, power and magic in it. Only engage, and the mind grows heated. Begin it, and the work will be completed.-- Goethe
Damn you Goethe! Can't a brother get a break!
Sunday, April 15, 2007
My thoughts...
within the cacophony of vacant questions
arises the suspicion of meaning in it all
it is true the walls that have held you safe
have made you both master and slave alike
if ever you should break and set free your own
if questions find anwers and meaning is known
let life raise itself never again
walls to contain, a master and his pain.
Spook E
within the cacophony of vacant questions
arises the suspicion of meaning in it all
it is true the walls that have held you safe
have made you both master and slave alike
if ever you should break and set free your own
if questions find anwers and meaning is known
let life raise itself never again
walls to contain, a master and his pain.
Spook E
Saturday, April 14, 2007
My "-isms"
lets see... i hate looking at mirrors! no i'm not superstitious, i just really don't like to look at my face, I keep critiquing it.
I can't stand that kid in class (and theres always one, two if you're cursed) who makes it his sole purpose to answer even the most redundant questions in class. i mean lets be honest, professors sometimes ask question that have answers so obvious, our silence should resonate as a collective "well, DUH!". the kid asks questions and in the same breath, answers them and after class he practically has his lips suctioned to the professors ass. damn it, if i had a dollar for everytime i wanted to rip out his tounge and make him eat it!
I am very shy when i'm surrounded by a lot of people that i don't know. i feel like everyone is looking and pointing, like that dream where you show up to school in your birthday suit and your teachers and classmates are in hysterics. you stand there, fool that you are, wondering how in Gods name you could be in such a hurry as to forget putting clothes on - well if you haven't had that dream "mr. well-adjusted", WHATEVER!!. in situations like that, i feel like evaporating. its even affected the way i walk. i've heard that i walk as though i have something between my cheeks, that i lean forward way too much it looks like i'm about to tip over, i'm too stiff or i walk too fast. i mean at this point, i really don't know how to walk anymore. i'm constantly adjusting and correcting and checking my posture and sticking my ass in a little and proping my shoulders a little higher and ... *breathe* ... moving on
I have also been made aware (by my cousin almost a decade younger) that i have " no style sense". now i'll admit, i haven't shopped for more than 5 items of clothing in ...maybe 2 years ... give or take a couple months (damn that sounds bad). I know, i know, thats soooooo not gay but i'm trying, i bought a couple of T-shirts on my way to the barber the other day coz they were 20% off and fell well within the amount of change i happened to have in my wallet. The problem - if you want to call it that, is I just don't see the point in spending money that way. i mean my clothes are clean, they're cool ... well at least to me and if anyone disagrees..well, they don't matter anyway. I like my style and it may not be whats hot now but who the F cares about whats hot, I make my own heat!
I watched flavor of love, flavor of love 2 and I love New york.... oh man i'm embarrassed just saying it but its true, I watched and laughed and took a long shower afterwards.
To Be Continued...
I can't stand that kid in class (and theres always one, two if you're cursed) who makes it his sole purpose to answer even the most redundant questions in class. i mean lets be honest, professors sometimes ask question that have answers so obvious, our silence should resonate as a collective "well, DUH!". the kid asks questions and in the same breath, answers them and after class he practically has his lips suctioned to the professors ass. damn it, if i had a dollar for everytime i wanted to rip out his tounge and make him eat it!
I am very shy when i'm surrounded by a lot of people that i don't know. i feel like everyone is looking and pointing, like that dream where you show up to school in your birthday suit and your teachers and classmates are in hysterics. you stand there, fool that you are, wondering how in Gods name you could be in such a hurry as to forget putting clothes on - well if you haven't had that dream "mr. well-adjusted", WHATEVER!!. in situations like that, i feel like evaporating. its even affected the way i walk. i've heard that i walk as though i have something between my cheeks, that i lean forward way too much it looks like i'm about to tip over, i'm too stiff or i walk too fast. i mean at this point, i really don't know how to walk anymore. i'm constantly adjusting and correcting and checking my posture and sticking my ass in a little and proping my shoulders a little higher and ... *breathe* ... moving on
I have also been made aware (by my cousin almost a decade younger) that i have " no style sense". now i'll admit, i haven't shopped for more than 5 items of clothing in ...maybe 2 years ... give or take a couple months (damn that sounds bad). I know, i know, thats soooooo not gay but i'm trying, i bought a couple of T-shirts on my way to the barber the other day coz they were 20% off and fell well within the amount of change i happened to have in my wallet. The problem - if you want to call it that, is I just don't see the point in spending money that way. i mean my clothes are clean, they're cool ... well at least to me and if anyone disagrees..well, they don't matter anyway. I like my style and it may not be whats hot now but who the F cares about whats hot, I make my own heat!
I watched flavor of love, flavor of love 2 and I love New york.... oh man i'm embarrassed just saying it but its true, I watched and laughed and took a long shower afterwards.
To Be Continued...
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Sounding Off!
Just had to say something about the Don Imus/Rutgers womens basketball mess. I am a firm believer in free speech, I think that's the one of the most appealing things to me about America, the right to speak regardless of one's opinions but I also feel we hold a responsiblitly for whatever rolls off our tongues into listening ears. I was very angered by what Imus said particularly because I am a Rutgers student and I know first hand the pride that the womens basketball team has brought to us all in the collegiate community. These girls overcame many odds in reaching the NCAA finals and were the first team, not the first female basketball team, but the very first team in the schools history (spanning over 200 years) to play in a national championship game of any kind. Very little has been made of that over the last week, very little in my opinion in New Jersey and even more surprising, in Rutgers and I say this because not too long ago, the school was in full "scarlet fever" living and dying with every play made by the Football team who eventually managed a minor bowl berth.
As I said before, I support every individuals right to speak regardless of what is being said which is why I'm not supporting Al Sharpton's push to have Imus' microphone permanently turned off. I believe that having listeners turn away from his broadcast or advertisers cut campaigns from his program will send a clear enough message that whatever you say, in whatever context will be held to a certain standard of decency.
While we're chastizing Imus for his comments (Al Sharpton and co) what is to be said of black run magazines, black entertainment television studios, even black operated radio stations continuing to support the DMX's, Snoops, Eminems and venerate the Tu Pac's and Biggie Smalls all of whom profit from their defamatory and degrading music. Don't we have any responsibilies whatsoever for how we represent ourselves seeing that now, in the present, we do have some leverage and some power to do so. If Al Sharpton will crusade in equal measure against mysognistic and homophobic representations from the black community with as much fervor as he does against the Micheal Richards and Don Imus' of Ameica, maybe this will hit more of a nerve amongst everyone especially those who from their high thrones of power will not ... or maybe cannot understand how deep the roots of white supremacist ideology have sunk in the minds of many black and white americans.
What hurts me so much when I hear discussions of black people in america is the blatant unwillingness of many white americans (and some other minorities) to look back on a sordid history that is as much thiers as it is black america's. Weather black people or white people want to admit it or not, they have shaped each other. Without the white man, there would be no negro american, and without the negro american, america would never have become the democracy it prides itself in today. Then why is it we can't help each other look back as a way to move forward. where are the relatively conscious whites and the relatively conscious blacks Baldwin spoke of, why haven't they multiplied since. How is it that many white people can look me in the face and say its no different when a white person uses the N word as opposed to when a black person uses it. There is a world of different between Don Imus calling a bunch of mostly black girls in college "nappy-headed hos" than say if Dave Chappelle said so and yes, its because one is white and the other black. I make no justification of the use of such derogatory characterizations because there is none but the difference is there and you'd see it if you only opened your eyes to the true nature of your past. If you would only see that throughout history, the image of the african america has always been fashioned for him and not by him and he (the black american) has never had the power to either resist or control these images. Thats where the hurt comes from, that why black leaders and all conscionable people of any ethnicity ought to be outraged. Lets start by seeing that much and we can begin to see why hopelessness pervades the ghettos or why black men are locked up in jail in high numbers, why many young black men find a role model in 50 cent as opposed to Obama and why black on black crime is on the rise.
I'm sorry, I didn't intend to go on this long or this far off tangent but I'm mad...a bunch of young, classy ladies who have decided to do positive things with thier lives and are doing it and doing it as well as anyone who has ever done it before them, have been subject to racist barbs dressed up as "comedy" by old men who ought to know better. I hope this sets up some dialogue within the black community that you cannot continue to scrutinize others more intensely that you do yourself without running the risk of sounding hypocritical. An even greater leap of ... hope will be that we will all examine our past in order to understand why things are ordered like they are today.
:-) Hey I can dream...chances both these things will happen is slim to nil. GO RU WOMEN"S BASKETBALL ... maybe thats all that needs to be said. Sorry for all the typos and fragmented thoughts and what-nots, all this just poured out all at once.
As I said before, I support every individuals right to speak regardless of what is being said which is why I'm not supporting Al Sharpton's push to have Imus' microphone permanently turned off. I believe that having listeners turn away from his broadcast or advertisers cut campaigns from his program will send a clear enough message that whatever you say, in whatever context will be held to a certain standard of decency.
While we're chastizing Imus for his comments (Al Sharpton and co) what is to be said of black run magazines, black entertainment television studios, even black operated radio stations continuing to support the DMX's, Snoops, Eminems and venerate the Tu Pac's and Biggie Smalls all of whom profit from their defamatory and degrading music. Don't we have any responsibilies whatsoever for how we represent ourselves seeing that now, in the present, we do have some leverage and some power to do so. If Al Sharpton will crusade in equal measure against mysognistic and homophobic representations from the black community with as much fervor as he does against the Micheal Richards and Don Imus' of Ameica, maybe this will hit more of a nerve amongst everyone especially those who from their high thrones of power will not ... or maybe cannot understand how deep the roots of white supremacist ideology have sunk in the minds of many black and white americans.
What hurts me so much when I hear discussions of black people in america is the blatant unwillingness of many white americans (and some other minorities) to look back on a sordid history that is as much thiers as it is black america's. Weather black people or white people want to admit it or not, they have shaped each other. Without the white man, there would be no negro american, and without the negro american, america would never have become the democracy it prides itself in today. Then why is it we can't help each other look back as a way to move forward. where are the relatively conscious whites and the relatively conscious blacks Baldwin spoke of, why haven't they multiplied since. How is it that many white people can look me in the face and say its no different when a white person uses the N word as opposed to when a black person uses it. There is a world of different between Don Imus calling a bunch of mostly black girls in college "nappy-headed hos" than say if Dave Chappelle said so and yes, its because one is white and the other black. I make no justification of the use of such derogatory characterizations because there is none but the difference is there and you'd see it if you only opened your eyes to the true nature of your past. If you would only see that throughout history, the image of the african america has always been fashioned for him and not by him and he (the black american) has never had the power to either resist or control these images. Thats where the hurt comes from, that why black leaders and all conscionable people of any ethnicity ought to be outraged. Lets start by seeing that much and we can begin to see why hopelessness pervades the ghettos or why black men are locked up in jail in high numbers, why many young black men find a role model in 50 cent as opposed to Obama and why black on black crime is on the rise.
You know, it's not the world that was my oppressor, because what the world does to you, if the world does it to you long enough and effectively enough, you begin to do to yourself. Jame Baldwin
I'm sorry, I didn't intend to go on this long or this far off tangent but I'm mad...a bunch of young, classy ladies who have decided to do positive things with thier lives and are doing it and doing it as well as anyone who has ever done it before them, have been subject to racist barbs dressed up as "comedy" by old men who ought to know better. I hope this sets up some dialogue within the black community that you cannot continue to scrutinize others more intensely that you do yourself without running the risk of sounding hypocritical. An even greater leap of ... hope will be that we will all examine our past in order to understand why things are ordered like they are today.
:-) Hey I can dream...chances both these things will happen is slim to nil. GO RU WOMEN"S BASKETBALL ... maybe thats all that needs to be said. Sorry for all the typos and fragmented thoughts and what-nots, all this just poured out all at once.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Daddy dearest
I don't write a lot of poetry ... I wish I did. There's a saying - all men are poets at heart, and I agree with it. I think its part of our natural arsenal for appealing to women ... its our softer side.
Today I was thinking about my relationship with my dad ... I suppose I was doing that because his birthday is coming up soon and the guy is edging closer to grandpa status, he'll be 80 in about 7 years!! My grandma was 77 when I was born so for me anyone around that age is a qualified geriatric. We have a fairly amiable relationship, he was a good father because he was a good provider, we never lacked anything. I feel all that work, all his promotions and his celebrity-like clout carved a divide between us ... he was there but certainly not in the emotional way you'd expect. We hardly spoke to each other beyond the dinner table and even there, our interactions felt mechanical, the way you might interact with your boss's boss, everything done and every word spoken carefully and deliberately within boundaries set by professional etiquette.
In many ways, I can't remember him in my childhood. We scarcely did anything together...there was that one time when he took me to the zoo and to see the ships at the dockyard. I remember feeling important in his eyes and at that time it meant the world ... then again, I had begged him for months for that trip, but that didn't matter. He'd made out time to do nothing else but take me out.
In all the years I knew my dad, I never saw him hug another man, and the only time I sensed any kind of deep emotion besides anger was the night he told me my mother passed. He cried, he wouldn't let me see it but heck I knew he did ... I heard the sniffling and I saw his shoulders tremble. There's an emotional disconnect that exists between many gay men and their fathers, I believe this because I've heard stories like mine told before ... maybe it's because we (and I mean gay men) are more intune with our softer side, we expect from our fathers a gentleness that is beyond their reason to give.
I wonder sometimes like I did when I wrote the four lines below what his reaction will be on that day when he'll be confronted with my sexuality. He'll freak out I know, but beyond that I really can't say for sure ... maybe that'll be the thing that breaks that divide into a fathomless chasm, maybe he'll come around and learn to accept me because he loves his son. I've fashioned my mind to prepare for the worst but I have a feeling nothing on heaven or earth can prepare me for that uncertain day.
To my father
If I came to you with my hallowed truth
of the love I seek from able men.
If that truth do not your dreams fulfill,
could I come to you again?
I'll write another verse again and again until I feel this poem is complete.
Today I was thinking about my relationship with my dad ... I suppose I was doing that because his birthday is coming up soon and the guy is edging closer to grandpa status, he'll be 80 in about 7 years!! My grandma was 77 when I was born so for me anyone around that age is a qualified geriatric. We have a fairly amiable relationship, he was a good father because he was a good provider, we never lacked anything. I feel all that work, all his promotions and his celebrity-like clout carved a divide between us ... he was there but certainly not in the emotional way you'd expect. We hardly spoke to each other beyond the dinner table and even there, our interactions felt mechanical, the way you might interact with your boss's boss, everything done and every word spoken carefully and deliberately within boundaries set by professional etiquette.
In many ways, I can't remember him in my childhood. We scarcely did anything together...there was that one time when he took me to the zoo and to see the ships at the dockyard. I remember feeling important in his eyes and at that time it meant the world ... then again, I had begged him for months for that trip, but that didn't matter. He'd made out time to do nothing else but take me out.
In all the years I knew my dad, I never saw him hug another man, and the only time I sensed any kind of deep emotion besides anger was the night he told me my mother passed. He cried, he wouldn't let me see it but heck I knew he did ... I heard the sniffling and I saw his shoulders tremble. There's an emotional disconnect that exists between many gay men and their fathers, I believe this because I've heard stories like mine told before ... maybe it's because we (and I mean gay men) are more intune with our softer side, we expect from our fathers a gentleness that is beyond their reason to give.
I wonder sometimes like I did when I wrote the four lines below what his reaction will be on that day when he'll be confronted with my sexuality. He'll freak out I know, but beyond that I really can't say for sure ... maybe that'll be the thing that breaks that divide into a fathomless chasm, maybe he'll come around and learn to accept me because he loves his son. I've fashioned my mind to prepare for the worst but I have a feeling nothing on heaven or earth can prepare me for that uncertain day.
To my father
If I came to you with my hallowed truth
of the love I seek from able men.
If that truth do not your dreams fulfill,
could I come to you again?
I'll write another verse again and again until I feel this poem is complete.
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Super-size me!
Started going to the gym this week after months of puting this off. I've always been very self conscious about my body. Growing up, everyone, father and mother included made fun of the fact that I was skinny. I mean I tried, I just couldn't be morphed into the gluttunous rounded jello-filled mess they wanted me to become. I ate what was provided and ok maybe sometimes I had to be threatened with life behind the dinner table in order for me to lick my plate clean but I don't think that's abnormal for a 6 year old kid. Kids that age don't eat much ... right? They called me BOB short for "bag of bones" and while I'm sure they didn't mean any harm, things like that linger and brood in a kids mind. I havn't stopped thinking of myself as skinny and to be honest, I can't say that I'm not. I still find it extremely hard to put on weight. Right now I'm 5'9 170lbs, probably a healthy weight but I want BIGGER!!
I walked past the gym entrance, took a peek in and kept on walking. WHAT THE HELL!! There were machines and cables and thingys that made people on them move funny. I thought, there's no way i'm going in there, I mean I've been in my fair share of dumb situations but those situations happened randomly without my foresight. I could absolutely see potential for a bonefide donkey moment where I start using a machine to work on my legs and someone taps me over the shoulder to tell me it's not for my bloody legs, its for the upper frigging pecs!
I came up with a plan wouldn't you know it! Turned right around, stuck my chest out, head held high and walked in that gym like I owned the place, went straight to a bench that stuck out of some wierd contraption, pulled out my cellphone to "check my text messages" while I surveyed the place. Dumbbells over to the left, check! barbells front and center, check! damn that machine really isolates his ass, check! check! check! Anyways, I figured how to use most of the machines by watching others use them and I have to tell you, it was not only physically stimulating, it was a visual delight. Some of the male specimens on display looked like angels in a dirty sinners paradise.
3 days a week until it bores me. Hopefull that'll be after I gain 10lbs.
My thoughts, right now!
sometimes i feel my mind is far older than my body. i've been on emotional roller coasters with dips so low it made my inside feel they'd come out of my nether end. heaven must be real, if the universe balances it's scales, positive has negative, up has down, cold..hot, my hellish life must mean there is a heavenly after life.
I walked past the gym entrance, took a peek in and kept on walking. WHAT THE HELL!! There were machines and cables and thingys that made people on them move funny. I thought, there's no way i'm going in there, I mean I've been in my fair share of dumb situations but those situations happened randomly without my foresight. I could absolutely see potential for a bonefide donkey moment where I start using a machine to work on my legs and someone taps me over the shoulder to tell me it's not for my bloody legs, its for the upper frigging pecs!
I came up with a plan wouldn't you know it! Turned right around, stuck my chest out, head held high and walked in that gym like I owned the place, went straight to a bench that stuck out of some wierd contraption, pulled out my cellphone to "check my text messages" while I surveyed the place. Dumbbells over to the left, check! barbells front and center, check! damn that machine really isolates his ass, check! check! check! Anyways, I figured how to use most of the machines by watching others use them and I have to tell you, it was not only physically stimulating, it was a visual delight. Some of the male specimens on display looked like angels in a dirty sinners paradise.
3 days a week until it bores me. Hopefull that'll be after I gain 10lbs.
My thoughts, right now!
sometimes i feel my mind is far older than my body. i've been on emotional roller coasters with dips so low it made my inside feel they'd come out of my nether end. heaven must be real, if the universe balances it's scales, positive has negative, up has down, cold..hot, my hellish life must mean there is a heavenly after life.
Friday, March 9, 2007
AWAKEN!
I wrote this years ago and thought I'd throw it into the blog, my attempt at being my own personal activist
For all my friends out there trying to fight the odds
For all the young out there saying NO to the urge to rob
To get richer by taking detours through life
But instead chose to strive
Through tight situations however rife
I say keep keeping on
One day you'll get yours just be patient
These words of wisdom I speak are ancient
Like the pyramids that stand today in Egypt
You'll rise tall and smile because you know you're legit
And stand proud like every sire
While the crowds lift you higher
Singing your glory,
They'll tell your story
To generations yet unborn
But!
Watch out! The evil ones are all around you
They call themselves your friends
But turn your back and they deny you
Watch out! Coz now I see them their eyes are red
Watch out! Coz they will shoot you and won't stop til you're dead
Today they venerate
Tomorrow they'll denigrate
And if you cry for help they'll integrate
Your secret fears
To penetrate your defenses
And hope to God that you will lose your senses.
I say absolve yourself!
You've paid your dues. Now friend remove yourself
Live life, climb to the top and be your own man
This day was your end since your story began
You rose above the cycle of living in futility
What they called pride you called mental agility
Puerilities that all they know so how can
They congregate in your vicinity?
I think not. You go get yours my friend
God bless you.
For all my friends out there trying to fight the odds
For all the young out there saying NO to the urge to rob
To get richer by taking detours through life
But instead chose to strive
Through tight situations however rife
I say keep keeping on
One day you'll get yours just be patient
These words of wisdom I speak are ancient
Like the pyramids that stand today in Egypt
You'll rise tall and smile because you know you're legit
And stand proud like every sire
While the crowds lift you higher
Singing your glory,
They'll tell your story
To generations yet unborn
But!
Watch out! The evil ones are all around you
They call themselves your friends
But turn your back and they deny you
Watch out! Coz now I see them their eyes are red
Watch out! Coz they will shoot you and won't stop til you're dead
Today they venerate
Tomorrow they'll denigrate
And if you cry for help they'll integrate
Your secret fears
To penetrate your defenses
And hope to God that you will lose your senses.
I say absolve yourself!
You've paid your dues. Now friend remove yourself
Live life, climb to the top and be your own man
This day was your end since your story began
You rose above the cycle of living in futility
What they called pride you called mental agility
Puerilities that all they know so how can
They congregate in your vicinity?
I think not. You go get yours my friend
God bless you.
Thursday, March 8, 2007
To go or not to go?
So I'm thinking of entering this college gay society of sorts. there's a club in my school...I'll have to avoid using its name but it's run by students for students who are leading "alernative lifestyles" (alternative? I was never presented with a choice or an "alternative"....whatever!). I'm torn and it's not simply because I haven't come out yet, I have so few friends it hardly matters, the real problem is I feel i know what to expect and I'm afraid I won't like it.
I'm probably not obviously gay in the way homosexuals have been stereotyped to be. I don't walk with a limp wrist, don't sashay or talk with a lisp. I'm not naieve and I know that there are gay people who have some of these stereotypical behavior, which is why I feel bad about having a certain discomfort around people who take on "counter-intuitive" gender roles.
I know I probably sound very hypocritical. I want to be accepted by soceity but can't get over my differences with ways people chose to express themselves, well I'm not perfect and it'll take a while to get over my uneasiness. Maybe going to this meeting - and I suppose that would officially include me into said "alternative-lifestyle" society, will help me embrace this dimension of the gay spectrum. One of these days, I'm going to throw caution to the wind and crash that queer joint, after all as my friend Black Girl in Prague said, if for nothing else I'll be doing it for the sake of "adventure".
I'm probably not obviously gay in the way homosexuals have been stereotyped to be. I don't walk with a limp wrist, don't sashay or talk with a lisp. I'm not naieve and I know that there are gay people who have some of these stereotypical behavior, which is why I feel bad about having a certain discomfort around people who take on "counter-intuitive" gender roles.
I know I probably sound very hypocritical. I want to be accepted by soceity but can't get over my differences with ways people chose to express themselves, well I'm not perfect and it'll take a while to get over my uneasiness. Maybe going to this meeting - and I suppose that would officially include me into said "alternative-lifestyle" society, will help me embrace this dimension of the gay spectrum. One of these days, I'm going to throw caution to the wind and crash that queer joint, after all as my friend Black Girl in Prague said, if for nothing else I'll be doing it for the sake of "adventure".
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