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Now, granted, every has their own definition about the L.O.A., but this is what I've noticed.
You ask something, you try something different, and sometimes, just sometimes, it might work. Not always, mind, but it does work, and the ball keeps on rolling, and you're having a gay ol' time (gay used to mean something else about 70 years ago). Something changed in me about two weeks ago, and by golly, I'm sort of emotional now. Sort of. It's a strange feeling. I probably haven't been like this in over ten years. Anyway, since I do a variety of things on and off stage, on the day of this breakthrough I did a comedy gig, which by the end (and even before I arrived) I said I might quit it. I was quite adamant about that fact, and after a bunch of things have happened "backstage", I had a few gigs recently and I've felt good. Reinvigorated if you will. The ball has started rolling from these few gigs, I have and have gotten more, gotten a few different gigs and other stuff, am getting ready to release a Valentine's Day short collection (yeah, I know, but I have to do it to get it out of the system, you know?), so the ball is rolling. It went from a choppy, blocky thing to an oval shaped one. Don't know when it'll get round, but someday. Things simply have to move, right? There will obviously be downturns and people who won't like me (not that there are many who do), but it's more about doing at this point, rather than not doing. I'm trying to have fun. Easier said than done. And unlike in the past, I need to #gutitout. A fun thing is that this song pops up in my playlist once, maybe twice a year, and it only happens when I'm in good spirits. I wonder if my phone is linked with my brain or something.
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When I talk about black people to various folks, they're taken aback by me using the word "black", as the white persons get easily offended by everything. I'm surprised some aren't scared of their shadows, man.
But black people are some of the coolest motherfuckers around, man. They created jazz, made it cool, smooth, chic, and there's a big difference between white jazz and black jazz. The white kind is in your face, whereas the black one is more subtle, more touchy feely. Then you have hip-hop. In some aspects, hip-hop gave me a new lease on life in my teenage years. It's an art form unlike any other, that takes precision, dedication, diction, and flow, to do it properly. Hip-hop is...something amazing. The older kind at least, not sure about the mumble rap of nowadays. Black people know how to dance to anything, as opposed to white people. How do straight white guys dance? By sitting or standing. Then they get drunk, and they discover a third way, flopping. Although John Travolta had some moves, when you had Michael Jackson and Prince in the '80s, man, people where going "John who?". And they were the coolest cats in town. Then Michael went white and was accused of being a pedo. Just like that. How many black guys have been accused of being pedos? ZERO! Which is surprising, cause the amount of shit white Americans gave to black Americans is despicable. But point is, black people know better, they know they can have a woman anytime. Romanians are somewhat similar, cause we hate cops, too. I wouldn't go as far as say that what they did to us during communism is similar to what black people suffered in the '60s and before, and even now, but we're not far. The difference is that black people had to look at cops and were in trouble. We had to make fun of Ceausescu, get grassed up by a "friend" and we'd be history. Black people had songs like "Fight the Power" and "Fuck the Police". We only have a football chant that I can translate as "The worst job in the world is that of a copper." I did see "Detroit" recently, a pretty awesome movie, and it's a shame shit like that had to happen. Point is, black people, black culture is amazing, and I know I only touched on the subject briefly, through music, but there's a lot more to it than that. If we weren't in this technologically advanced society, and I wouldn't have had a way to discover anything outside of white people things, my life would've been vastly different. Peace. I find park benches to be one of the best places where you could talk with someone. It's a neutral ground, but also out in the open where you can use what tone you like to use, plus it has the advantage of a fresh air environment.
"So, what do you want from a relationship? What is it that you're looking for?" "I'll tell you what. I'm not a materialistic type. I don't care about that. I just want to have someone near me. To rest my head on their shoulder while embraced, and not say a word apart from our faint breaths that will eventually sync. To feel that warmth when my cheek is gently on their back, to smile and kiss it for the joy it brings me. To look each other in the eye and smile, or make faces, you know, be silly like that. And somewhere around here you'll ask me about sex. Screw sex. It's not always about sex. I can pay for sex. I don't want to do that, but I can get it anytime like that. What I'm talking about is sensuality. Touch. Feeling. The need to caress and be caressed by someone, to simply fool around in an intimate way, but not that intimate of a way. I find that people only care about the deep contact, and once that's done, put your shoes on and get out. We put up fronts about anything these days, but we're lacking that goosebumps feel. When a finger gently flows on your jawline, then plays around between your lips and chin before going down, on the neck. If you were to ask me what would be an absolute moment of happiness, it wouldn't be money made, talking in front of people, or helping others with their dreams. Those are great moments, too, but just being like this with someone would suffice to make me forget about worldly problems." "What if I told you people still do that and you simply have to search harder?" "I've been searching. I'm tired of that. I'm probably at that point where I don't trust anyone anymore." "Yet you just told me all that about love." "Yeah, well, I don't know if you'll still want to talk to me after this, so I figured I'll tell it to someone I know." "Why would I abandon you like this?" I don't know how many people think about life-changing moments of their own (or of others), but I do. I've had plenty of those. And while I'm not going to detail all of them now, I'll talk about one.
You see, I've been looking at my past to discover that moment when it happened, and while there were things before, and plenty of ones after, it was at this exact point when I realized that my life would change. It was the day my cat died. Yeah, I know it sounds in such a way that would make plenty of jokes, but I don't give a damn. I'm not going to say that I was the most empathetic person in the world at that point, but after it, nope. Not even going to try. It's just not coming. It was also the last time I had a big cry (yes Cure, boys do cry). Kuki (awww...yeah, don't) was his name, and he perished in a stupid way, an accident really, as we were living on the 4th floor of a 4 story building, and with our windows open all night (summer time heat, man), he slept on the ledge every time. Well, as it's my understanding, a big gust of wind came, brought the windows in and jolted him over the edge (I'm trying to be funny. I shouldn't). That was it. Kaput. The cleaning lady of the area found him, and told my dad about it. And things haven't been the same since. While I wasn't, and still am not, the biggest fan on pets, I did somehow get attached to that black furball. And while there's been one before, and one after, I just don't feel it, man. It's like a door closed on that day, and has been surrounded by a wall ever since. One without a way in. Which makes me think, how many people are there in the world who haven't had their walls removed? Oh, I also wrote a poem about him. Why didn't you say goodbye? Hey, hey, hey, Remember those times When I scratched your belly And you clawed my hand, Then looked at me funny? I didn’t mind. How about when I Tingled your spine so finely That you lifted your tail And started to purr Until you passed out Coiled in my arms? I didn’t mind. Or when I gave you Food, enough for one and half. Instead of taking your time, You dug your nose in there. Next thing I know? The carpet’s dirty. I didn’t mind. I came home at 1 or 2, Tired after work, And instead of sleeping until 8 or 9, You punched me in the face At 4 or 5. I didn’t mind. You broke an expensive TV set. Prattled on some important DVDs To an inch of their life. Yet I didn’t make a fuss. I wanted to kick your ass, But I didn’t mind. I remember that morning When the window was wide open The wind was blowing hard And rattled it. I looked everywhere… You were absent. Later I found out what happened. I minded That you left without Saying goodbye. |
AuthorWriting fictional stories or about real life people and situations. Archives
August 2021
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