Raise my son, no vindication of manhood necessary

"Give me the fortune, keep the fame," said my man Louis
I agreed, know what he mean because we live the truest lie

I am in a happy place. In the zone, as some may say. coasting with an air of productivity while taking it easy and going at it hard all at once. Wearing my heart on my sleeve and trying to give it my all in all that i do.

I asked him why we follow the law of the bluest eye
He looked at me, he thought about it
Was like, "I'm clueless, why?"

If at once we commit ourselves to learning something new everyday, we then find ourselves in the easy position of coming up with many unanswered questions as well. I saw a pretty good play last week at the Boston Center for the Arts (BCA); "Ronan Noone's Brendan." It was funny and serious and quite entertaining. What was most striking was the way it invoked repetition to harness an almost spiritual energy to truly capture the essence of the illusions they were trying to convey in the script. All in all, it was a great play and has rekindled my thirst for seeing more since it had been about a year since I last saw a play.

The question was rhetorical, the answer is horrible
Our morals are out of place and got our lives full of sorrow

At the very same theater, a stage adaptation of Toni Morrison's "The Bluest Eye" is on its way and I need to make my way back down there to check it out. To me, it kind of invokes the same kind of emotional turbulence that "Beloved" did, which w another novel by Morrison. A twisted and sordid tale of values, morals, deception, betrayal, love, perception, reality, and pain. If you noticed, the song I am quoting actually quotes many of the novel's themes and passages throughout its verses and chorus.

And so tomorrow coming later than usual
Waiting on someone to pity us
While we finding beauty in the hideous

I do not consider myself a good storyteller. Somehow, I have managed to skate through life thus far by stumbling over syllables and mangling my words with wandering cadences. Sometimes, I catch myself in the middle of saying something where I've forgotten what I am talking about and I have to do a mini time-out in my brain just to get ish together before I continue my sentence. Sometime it comes across as a 1 to 2 second pause; as though I am gathering thoughts. But really I am trying to figure out what the hell I am talking about. I cannot explain it much better than that. But I say all that to say that I have a true admiration for storytellers and those who have a way with words and can string sentences together with an air of precision. Yet, the craziest part of all of this is that final line is quite possibly the single most often quoted line of prose that I often recite at the drop of dime to convey a thought, counter a debate point, or commence a speech by embellishing the meaning between the lines. And if you get a chance to see Brendan, see if that ain't the case.

It's not like the end of the world.

this is a damn shame.

if Hillary Clinton were to win the presidency, it would be a case of the US mimicking Argentina.

apparently, Big Brother is in full effect because the white House in editing and revising scientific research on global warming and climate change to fit its own agenda.

special shout-out to a great friend and all-around good person, Doctor Ty, for the recent citation of her book on the Dow Jones' MarketWatch site. and it's actually good advice on how to get some more me-time in your day that anyone can follow.

i am a fan of manny Ramirez. Going all the way back to when he had them play Styles P as his theme music. When the Red Sox were down in the ALCS 3-1, he quipped, "We'll go play hard and if things don't come like they're supposed to come, we'll come back next year. . . . If it doesn't happen, who cares? there's always next year. It's not like the end of the world." As you can imagine, the media had a field day, but in the end the made a the major come-up and won it all. But his interpreters, David ortiz and Mike Lowell had his back. "We're playing for our lives, in the sense of this season," he said, "but, come on, man. There's people that have kids in Iraq. You think they care whether the Red Sox or the Indians win? I think that's what he's trying to say." Lowell, who is a cancer survivor, was named the World Series MVP. These dudes are no-joke, kid. Truly, the legends of the Fall.

and lastly, most people who know me also know that i do not drink. it's just a fact of life. and i often find it amusing when someone hears of it and they respond with some retarded comment like "oh my, you might be the only brother i have ever met in my life that doesn't drink." truth be told, that could very well have been true, but really though, son. i'm not some anti-alcohol, you're going to die if you have a sip nut, but i like reason and sensibility. so it just struck me as odd after seeing the umpteenth championship victory party erupt in a showering of champagne once again. for all the talk of responsible drinking, especially directed at college students who tend to celebrate excessively, drink excessively, ad pretty much do everything excessively, i found it a bit of a paradox that the "beer goggles" get donned. BUUUUUUT, you just gotta love Papelbon's energy. He gets me amped like how "Ante Up" almost got me arrested once upon a time on Euclid Avenue in Syracuse, NY (long story).

At least I'm realistic with my biscuit

The song that line came from was called, "Pain;" the Pac joint on the Above The Rim soundtrack.

I am in pain.

Pain from the shame...

...inflicted by the young thugs who took this dude's life at random a few months back
...inflicted by the lack of discipline that saw the families of all three men almost come to blows outside the courts after the arraignment
...inflicted by myself at those times when i chose to not say anything about somebody not minding their language at an inappropriate time
...felt within when i say i love this town yet can be conflicted with its inner demons

Pain from the blame

...cast from within for the regrets i vowed not to regret yet couldn't help
...cast from below for the lack of help offered in times of need
...cast from above for under achieving, over-promising, and not giving 100%

Pain from the name

...cursed with the paradox of tongue and temper
...that rendered ears feeble to the acidic tune of self-hate
...the left hollowed shadows and mammoth footprints on sidewalks

Pain from the rain

...that pitter-patters on the heart whilst reading web comments and posts filled with hate and ignorance.
...that stains streets with the orange-hued blood of rusty gates and chain-linked fences that mirror life's obstacles

but from pain comes strength

get your weight up, B.

Broadcast Yourself

i gave you power
you looked into the tube
turned around and
blamed me for your sins
sought solace in spritual hymns
took back what i stole
the burner was on the hip
girbaud knee pocket had the extra clip
nape of the waist the perfect place
for shell cases and
whistles stirring dogs with silencers
sirens and sermons for heat-seekers
on pavements leaking
painted faces of murals in memory
we both were taught to
take ten paces back
and squeeze
the life
out of life
this life of mine will shine
with no captions
word is bond