Late Night Groove Therapy

Due To My Current Mood ~ I Had To Repost This

I will of course Revise this later. OCD And BiPoarism is some serious shit. Sometimes it is better to be honest, seek help, or someting. But then again, some people know how to push people away with a mere act. Cant fall for the okie doke.

I like crazy people. No, I love crazy people. I mean I lovvvveeee crazy people. I know I do, and you know why? Yup, you guessed it, because I am just as crazy.
Now, I think there are certain levels of crazy though. if I get to the level of crazy, where I shit in a frying pan, season it, put some oil in it, and try to fry it by holding a match under it, that wouldn't make me crazy. I would be crazy if I didn't realize the match was burning my fingers.
One day I was bored and decided to write down a list of relationships, good or bad. Now, not just romantic ones, but any type. At some point you go through the names, and say; "Yeah, that fool was crazy". But, you need to realize that if that person was crazy, wouldn't you be just as insane to have dealt with them? Makes sense to me.
Now, what makes someone crazy? Hmmm, good question. I always wondered if certain situations make people crazy too. I know that if I meet a "regular non crazy" chick, her ass will be crazy when I'm done with her ass. However, being that I am already crazy, I will attract only crazy chicks. I don't believe in the bible nonsense, but I do believe in energy, and the power of the mind. So if I send out crazy energy, what the hell else will I get?

I'm on my blackberry. Something smells funny. It’s not me this time I promise.

I knew I was crazy when I was a kid. I try not to blame it on molestation, or the fact that the back of my head was bust open, to the white meat, same spot but different occasions, nooooo. I should though, don't ya think? I remember how quick tempered I was. I would occasionally black out and beat the hell out of one of my friends. I had to be crazy, because they always had older bigger brothers, who in turn would fuck me up. All is fair in love and crazy I suppose.
I met a chick once from black planet, her name was beautifully7krazy. Guess what? She is just that. what's fucking with we are in court right now fighting over my child. Oh, didn't meet her on BP, wish I did, because then, it was only jump off city for me.
I may be crazy, but there are ones that are even crazier. People that use all their energy, to try not to appear crazy. When folks go way out to be nice, or to make it seem like their shit is together, they are crazy too. But it takes a special someone like me to bring it out.
Pussy and dick can make folks crazy too. Once, or I should say a few times, I was out driving around with a friend, smoking weed, drinking or whatever. He had me pull up to his baby mother's apartment building, in the back. We get out, but we don't go in. We are chilling in the damn cut. So I ask;

"Dude, don't you want to go inside?"

"Nah, we can chill and smoke right here yo"

"Nigga, we can go back in my car, its cold as fuck"

"Nah man, I'm about to catch this bitch cheating"

"By standing in the alleyway? Don't you have keys?"

"True"

See, it happens. I know I have given mr girthy left hooker to a few chicks that may have went bonkers at some point. You know they crazy when they banging on your door at 2am, talking about "I couldn't sleep". Well damnit, now I can't. The worst are the married broads. If you are getting fucked properly by me, and you even consider leaving the fool who said his "I do" in the name of love, then, you are fucking crazy.

Keep in mind that I am crazy. Years ago, when I was maybe 19/20, I dealt with, for the first time, a married woman. I know she was way older than I was, but didn't look it. She was actually drop dead fine. But, just because you are gorgeous, doesn't mean you are sane. She would want to go out in public, to places in the daytime, actual daytime. Crazy!!! We cannot be in no damn red lobster on route 22, during lunch. WTF?!!
But since I am crazy, I rolled with it. Nothing like the threat of death by a nigga sticking a king crab leg through your heart. I'm glad I left that alone. However, when you a youngin, man listen, that older pussy, its like, its like heaven wrapped in velvet filled with butter.

We are all crazy. We have all been in crazy situations. And at some point, we all will be in one or more. Be careful who you point a finger at, because for that one finger you are pointing, there are people that know who you really are, and they not only point; but laugh too.

Nurture Nature Genetics Repair

In my self imposed solitude I have nothing other to do but think. Most of the times when I do this I am listening to my mp3 player, and just lost in thought. That can be a good thing, or a bad thing. It depends on what happened that day, or the day before, and I try to use at least ten to twenty minutes to meditate. Recently I was thinking about something;

Nature versus Nurture.

Pretty much because I wanted to figure out about me. How did I become the person I am? What did I go through in life to mold me into the asshole I am? I wonder if it is genetic. I mean, is my temper a result of the genes given to me by my father? I have heard stories of his temper being legendary. Hell, I have felt a belt on my ass growing up, and that was legendary. I always used to ask myself, what the hell did I do to get shit on like this? I didn’t quite understand until I heard stories of his dad, my grandpa, who as legend goes, was superb at whooping ass. Hell, with eight kids, I wouldn’t see any other way to raise knuckleheads, growing up in the hood. Knowing that I guess I could give my pops a pass, somewhat, but not all the way. I think far more than I eat, so I am not sitting on fat people logic.

Now, let me take a scenario here. Let’s say your folks were neglectful, disrespectful, and basically did not care what it was you thought, even if you had valid points? But you grow up around this, and this is all you know? Years later, you are an adult, and you sort of exemplify the same characteristics, that you saw in your folks, within yourself. Is it difficult to change the mentality that you have? Will you chalk it up as that’s how you were raised, and you aren’t going to change, even if it does nothing but alienate the people around you, that sincerely love and care for you? If you know that about yourself, and if you didn’t appreciate it then, why would it be so hard to see the bullshit in yourself and make a conscious effort to try to do things different?

That is the nurturing of a person I guess.

These are random thoughts.

Nature

With my temper, I am pretty sure it is genetic. Both my folks have tempers. When I was a kid, I had my little black out moments. I know I used to beat up good friends when I was between seven and ten. I would then, not forget, but nix it off as if it was nothing. Or say something outlandish to someone causing them to feel a certain way. I guess it was genetic that I was too blunt at times.

Nurture

Like, if you missed out on things, or you felt in some ways neglected. You may grow up having this feeling of “Me against the world” attitude. The shit isn’t cute though. I used to feel that way, and in most ways I still do. But I try to recognize it, instead of rationalizing it. I would rather fix it, instead of letting it continue to overwhelm me, at the worst possible times. I mean, I used to be really weary of someone that wanted to care about my ass, and I probably was put off because I didn’t understand it. So what I did was give them my ass to kiss. Or I would just shy away. Like, if I was in a relationship, I felt there was no need to have to answer to my girl. Simply because, I felt as though I didn’t have too. I didn’t respect them enough to even bother. Maybe subconsciously I would rather live the rest of my days alone. Like, i would get called all the time. And when I answer, I was pretty much an ass. Like, why do you even care? And the subconscious was actually, “why do you care? No one else does, why should you?” that is such a hard thing to break I guess. But I am learning, I am rededicating, and trying to not make the same mistakes as I once did.

Random

Rub Some Tussin On That Shit!!!!

Does being sick or feeling a little bit under the weather give someone the right to act or behave like a total asshole? I guess it does, doesn’t it. I have had to think back on the times I may have felt a little sick, and sometimes lashed out. Not too much these days, mainly because now I have more pains in bones and muscles, than I actually am struck with the common cold or something. I guess my pops is like that. A lot of my family on my pops side suffers from sickle cell, but he is the one that gets sick from it the most. Man oh man, that shit gives him the right to curse out just about anybody. And it kind of sucks too, because you go and try to be supportive, but all it does is blow up in your face. And from that point on, you are kind of walking on eggshells when dealing with him.

When I am legitimately sick, I avoid people. I will sit there and look at my phone ring, or mute the shit because I don’t want to be bothered. But that can also be a kick in the ass, because while you are sick, you start wondering; “why doesn’t anyone care?” Boo hoo. Here’s the answer, you may have been an asshole. When I was younger, it was okay to be all sick and shit. I mean it was for me. If I was home with the flu or something, I had girlfriends that would come give me some chicken soup, or a hand job or something. Ahhh, but those were the nineties. Shit like that doesn’t happen now. Now, its like nigga, take some Theraflu and call my ass in the morning, I’m going out, peace!

I think being mentally sick is more fun. But, not sick like being a serial killer or anything. More like; wondering if you can get a pit bull to fuck the local crack whore in the ass, and not bark at her the next day.

I have been feeling under the weather lately myself. I have a slight cough. And if I start coughing, I think I am near the end. I am a serious germaphobe and a hypochondriac supreme. Like, I don’t even like pissing in urinals, because I am so nervous that some herpes dicked guy used the shit before I did, and some pee might ricochet and slap me on the dick, and then I would have to explain to my girlfriend that I never fucked Paris Hilton, or any other Hollywood starlet that has the gift that keeps on giving.

I don’t know what my problem is however. When I get a cold or sick, I hate to take medicine. I don’t know what it is. I have never been a pill popper. I have always believed, at least the last 7 years at least that, I don’t need the meds, it will work itself out. That, or I can drink some tea with a shit load of brandy in the cup. Once, I was working at a company and I had some cold or some shit, the weather had changed right when I was driving around with the roof and windows open bumping jill scott, while wearing a wife beater. Trying to look fly will always do it, huh?

This is why sometimes it is better not to listen to old people. The advice I got was simple enough, you need to get some tea with lemon, and pour some brandy in there, or some whisky, that will clear it up. Shit, not only did it clear it up, it was one helluva mix. My cold had been gone. But I was still drinking the shit, at work, during lunch. When questioned at work, I would fake a cough and explain to my boss at the time, I was just trying to get better. That worked with her, she owned a bar, and was past being an alcoholic. The only thing she would say was to watch my back, and wanted to know if I would be sober enough at the end of the day to give her a lift home. Ya damn skippy!

I think my one remaining grandmother is getting, or has glaucoma, she is very stubborn, and won’t go to the doctor, not even the eye doctor. I mean come on Grandma!!! Lets do this and get some medicinal marijuana!!!!!

A Touching Whore Story...Romancing The Stone

A Touching Whore Story(With Real Hoes Too)

It was the year nineteen and ninety something. I figured I would not even try to remember the actual year, because most of the time I am way off. Half of the time I can’t even remember how old I am. Why bother to keep counting after thirty? Well, anyways, I was working at the airport, I was one of the guys that put fuel in the plane, good job. I am pretty sure it was mentioned here somewhere before. In those days I don’t think there was a day that, I did not smoke at least 3 blunts. The good old days, I tell ya. Weed was good, very good.
I had a few smoke buddies from the job, Dre and Derrick being the main ones I smoked with. We would all car pool to work, or from work, switching up from time to time. Dre had the better vehicle, so he was always the dude we rolled with. Sometimes we would do our own things, and splinter off. Like we would all go to the city, cop some herb, and dre would drop derrick and me off somewhere in midtown. It was always crazy back then walking around the city, high as hell.
Now I am silly, but derrick was silly, and crazy, not to mention the worlds biggest liar. I mean the dude would lie about the simplest shit, but we could not do anything but laugh our ass off at him. Everytime dre and me was in the whip ready to bounce, he would be like; “Lets see what this nigga going to lie about now”, as derrick was walking up to the truck. Good times.

Derrick may have lied his ass off, but he was still a good dude. Real fun to be around, there was always non stop laughing with him, or at him. Either way, it was all good back then. Once in a while on pay day, a Tuesday no doubt, we would go to the city to cop, and just bullshit the whole night. At this time 42nd street was a cesspool. This is before it was for the family and shit. The pimps and the hoes ruled 8th avenue. There was peep show places, and x rated spots all over. The golden palace was right there where the Loews movie theater is now. Or at least close by to where it was.

We always stayed with weed, and derrick was the type of dude that didn’t care, he would walk down 8th ave rolling a white owl in plain view. but these were the times that no one gave a shit. This one night we went, for some reason, we saw a cop every corner we went too. Derrick had the bright idea of going into the x rated movie theater to roll up a few L’s, and walk around looking for chickenheads. It was a spot, I think where some lion king thing theater place something is now. The admission was like 2 bucks. I kid you not, we walked in that shit, I felt like a world class freak. The floors were sticky as hell to my boots, and it wasn’t from gum and popcorn either. I wanted to get the fuck out of there. Derrick was laughing his ass off and talking shit. I don’t remember all he said, but I remember the feeling. We rolled them shits and got the fuck out, and walked around smoking and freestyling for an hour or so.

These days is when them smoke shops were popping something serious. We went to a few of them. Back then, I was buying all type of paraphernalia, from water bongs, to little chalices shaped like a cigarette. I loved the smoke shops. There was one that I would always go into. A few years before that from when I was hustling, I would go into one particular store, and leave my bags there, go uptown to re-up, come back, and shit stil there, bag still there. Id throw them a few dollars, because they would give me the decoy cans, the soda, Pringles, whatever. Good times.

They also sold “The Stone”. I had heard a lot about this thing. Allegedly, you are supposed to use the shit before you have sex, supposed to keep the dick up all night. The shit was in a small assed box, and I didn’t know what all the hub bub was about concerning it anyways. The little arab dude was always pushing me to get one before that. I didn’t get insulted until I found out what it was used for. I’m like, who told him what and when?!

Derrick and me left the store and went to the golden palace on the corner, to see some butt naked hoes, in the twenty five cent peep show. And also to roll another blunt. So we go in, and I think at the time, you had to buy tokens at the door or something, I don’t remember too well. But we go in, and derrick goes right too the doors where the live chicks are at. I go into one of the video booths, to start rolling this last L. so that the goons wont come and bang on the door, u had to throw some money in the slot. So I put in my little two dollars, after I broke down the white owl, and emptied it. I wasn’t paying any mind to what was on the screen at all, I was just rolling. i wasn’t quite finished, and the time was running out, so I throw another dollar in the slot, and I look up, and theres some chick getting fucked by a German Shepard. I mean in doggy style, it was real live doggy style. I wont front, I stopped rolling the blunt, and looked with my jaw dropped in amazement. My dick kind of crawled up into itself, it didn’t want any part of this action, and who could blame him? The movie stopped, and I finished rolling, and then I heard a dude yell out;

“SHITTTT, WHAT THE FUCK?!!!!”

It was derrick’s ass no doubt. I put the blunt in my inside jacket pocket, and go out, and see what the fuck is going on. I am thinking that we are going to have to be banging up in this spot or some shit. Dude comes out, holding his hand, he is in pain, but kind of snickering, and I’m like;

“Yo, what the fuck happened bee?

“Them little assed windows, the window, shut down on my hand before I could get more money in and shit”

“BWHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA, how the fuck you manage that shit yo?”

Now, I don’t know if this was a lie or not, but he did have some moments of brutal honesty, self depreciating humor I suppose”

“Yo, I had my hand in there, and I’m rubbing this bitches pussy right, and she telling me that I need to put more money in right, so I go to get some tokens out my pocket, and my pants fell down, so when I was trying to catch them, the fucking window closed down on my fingers and shit, he LOL’s”

“Word? BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!!”

“Yo, it aint that funny nigga, lol”

“Nah nigga, I’m laughing because you had your dick in the other hand, nasty ass nigga. BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA. You smoking none of this L nigga. Unknown pussy on one hand, and dick in the other, hells nah”

“Yo, we don’t have anymore herb”

“Yo, I’m going to go round the block, someone out here got some herb, I’m be back n a few minutes”

”Aight” Derrick said, “I’m going to go see what’s up with these hoes”

“Yeah, whatever nigga, you about to lose your other hand, lol”

The only reason I went instead of derrick, is because there was one time I gave him like 20 dollars to cop some weed around that area. This fool came back with what looked like a fat zip lock bag. I was souped up, until I tried to roll the shit. I kept wondering why the hell this weed was so hard, it was crumbling inside the white owl, so much that the blunt just broke in half. OH HELLS NAW!!! This nigga bought forty dollars worth of parsley. I was so fucking mad, I went back to the spot where the dude was at, or around, or where he could have been. Since then, derrick was not the one to cop weed, in the city. We went home that night defeated.

So, anyways, I get back to the club, there was no one around that time of night, and I wasn’t going to be asking around like foofoo the fool, and get bagged by some dt or some shit. I go upstairs, and I see derrick, and I tell him we should just go home, aint any weed out here, and that we could cop back home, at least I know I had a stash at home. Instead of agreeing, he tells me he was kicking it with some chicks, a couple of strippers that know a place in Brooklyn, where we could cop some herb. So, I am like where they at, he tells me they got off work in about 20 minutes. He tells me he thinks we can fuck them. Now, that confused me that he would say that. I mean, we were cool and all, but he was one of the funniest looking niggas I knew. And his girl, at the time looked like an ewok. So, I said the only thing I could think of;

“Yo, I aint paying these hoes to fuck, lol, you trying to trick it up huh?

“Nahhhh dawg, I am serious yo, just believe me, we about to get some smoke and chill with them”

“Man, what they look like?(questioning his taste, shit, aint theirs too)

One of them walked by, and this funny looking dude calls her name out, and she waves, and tells him, to give them like 15 minutes.

“Oh okay, I’m sold, I will be right back”

So, I go to the store down the street, and got like two packs of condoms, just in case. And so, I start wondering about this stone, I mean I did hear about it from the older cats that I grew up around, I never felt the need to use it, but I bought the shit that night.

So, I go back to the club, and everyone is about ready. One of the chicks already was rolling a blunt, and Derrick was all over her. She didn’t seem annoyed, she seemed amused. The other chick gravitated towards me. She was playing the shy role I guess. I ask a shit load of questions, the only thing I remember about her now is her name, Rochelle. We all hop in a dollar cab, to go to Brooklyn. The driver was cool, he even hit some of the blunt. We go to some weed spot in Brooklyn. In those times, it was all good, it was a store front, and you picked what you want from the weed chart. So, we all go in there, and each buy like forty dollars of some goods.

I was already getting ready to go home. I spent too much dough. I am pretty frugal, I got my weed, and I can get pussy anytime, and this chick Rochelle is acting all mousy. So, the other chick who’s name was Monroe told the driver to go to some motel, the star, or the Hollywood or some shit. Man I was not trying to go, because it would mean more money out of my pocket. I would’ve fucked both the chicks in the back of the cab, while the driver watched, and filmed. So, I go up to derrick;

“Yo, we can get just one room and shit.”

“I don’t know man, she said she wants a room to herself”

“You got to be shitting me, c’mon dawg, we will just throw the money down and ask for one room, fuck that”

A short stay is nothing, it has pretty much been the same for all eternity. So I slap the money down, which was like 40 bucks, BAM, one room! We’re in like Flynn. The other chick looks at derrick some type of way, and what do ya know? He had his own BAM, one room! Well, I’ll be damned. I think he loves her. That is the only way I could have explained that episode. He obviously loves her. He had to know her from somewhere. She did have one fat ass though. Damn I wanted to know if that cologne he bought earlier that week was a pussy magnet. No, she is in college, and this is clearly an experiment. An experiment to fuck with my emotions, and not to mention, my pockets.

We had rooms right next to each other, but we were all in the same room for a little while, smoking blunts and talking to the chicks individually. After like 3 blunts went around, derrick started pulling his girl off the bed to go to the other room. She put on some shorts, so I slapped her ass while she was walking out. PAP! “Don’t forget about me” I tell her. She giggles, oh, okay, its on.

Me and Rochelle start talking about a few things while she was breaking up the weed to roll another blunt. Now, while she was doing that, I went to take a piss. This is where “the stone” comes into play. I pull it out my shirt pocket, and read the directions like 3 times;

“Lather up the stone, and glide it on the vein of the penis”

Simple right? So, I go ahead, wash my hands, and lather up the stone and get to gliding that shit on the top and bottom veins of my dick. I planned on fucking the rest of the stay at this motel. I was nice and high, and I just felt kind of icky, for lack of a better term. I decided I’d take a quick shower. I go back in the room, take my clothes off, and ask Rochelle to join me. I mean, shit, I have no qualms about asking a broad to freshen up a bit. So, we get in the shower and all, and I am just squeezing that ass, and playing with her tits and everything. But there is a problem; my dick was not getting anywhere near hard. Not even a little bit. Its like it had all the intentions of getting hard, but it went on strike. YOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! My shit was numb. I had a limp dick. Holy shit! I mean, she is facing me, and she was considerably shorter than me, and man listen, im stooping down sucking tits and fingering her to no end. Still, nothing.

We get out the shower, dry off and everything. Sit on the bed, but naked at that. She is behind me kissing me on the neck, and rubbing my balls. NOTHING! Hell, all types of shit started running through my head. I was getting nervous, shit, I was nervous. I mean this chick is behind me doing what she can do, and I am sitting there, near tears. I was sitting there, with a weed influenced mind, believing that I had broken my dick. “I broke it.” That’s all I kept thinking. this went on, no lie for at least 30 minutes. I even started pacing around the room, I went in the bathroom and splashed cold water on m face, and then I took a washcloth, and tried to wash whatever influence the stone had on my dif, OFF! That seemed to make matters worse. My dick started to tingle. “OH SHIT, MY DICK IS GOING TO FALL RIGHT OFF!” This is what I get, trying to be “the man” and now I am going to be limp dick. When the tingling started, I think I did drop a tear. A single tear, in memory of the single dick I had before.

I start flipping the channels on the television. I re light the blunt, and turn and see some videos. A TLC video came on. And I guess I was alone with my thoughts. I always had a crush on Chilli, and I thought “Another woman I wont sex because I’m a limp dick bastard.” But then all of a sudden;

The Dick: “Aye, my bad yo, I think we are ready”

Me: like a scolding parent “Don’t you ever do that again! Ever!”

So I turn back to Rochelle and start messing around with her. My dick was at full strength. Ready to bang that pussy out something serious. We on the bed just grinding and everything, I go into my bag on the side of the bed to get the rubbers. Didn’t feel them in there, I empty the shit out, still nothing. I know I had gave Derrick a box, I bought two boxes, but I couldn’t find the one I had. I checked my jacket pocket, and they weren’t in there either. FUCK! So I go next door, after throwing my boxers on. Derrick comes to the door, and the dude had the fucking chain on at that.

“Yo, let me get a rubber”

“I don’t have any man.”

“What? Nigga, I gave you a box when we was in the cab”

“Nah, I don’t have them, I thought I did but…”

“Wait, ya’ll fucking? Why you hiding behind the door? Oh Shit!”

“See yo, wha…”

“Yall niggas raw dogging it?! Bwhahahahahahahaha”

“Yo man, see”

That was enough for me. I go back into the room, still hard than a motherfucker. Now the dick that couldn’t get up, does not want to go down. I tell Rochelle that I am going to the front to see if they got any rubbers. I get there, machine is broke, and they don’t sell them from behind the desk. I am starting to think that all of this shit was a sign. Had to be. And then my dick spoke up;

The Dick: “There’s a bodega up the block”

Me: “It’s like 6 am”

The Dick: “This is Brooklyn, its open, run, run fast”

O, here I go, with these tight assed work uniform pants on, no shirt, and some boots. Running the hell up the street like I just killed a nun or some shit. Holding my pants because I didn’t even bother to buckle or zip them up. My dick was right, there was an open store. So I go in, breathing hard and shit, I slap 5 dollars on the counter. BAM!

“Yo, let me get a box of rubbers”

“Papi, you can no come in here with no es-shirt papi”

“Look at me yo”

“So-kay, you no can do this sagain”

I don’t even get my change. I bolt out hauling ass back to the motel. I get back into the room, and this was the first time I uttered these words;

“I am going to fuck your brains out”

Which I did. I hate to brag, but um, I put in serious business. I fuck to win. Man listen, i fucked that chick in every corner of the room, on the thing the tv was on, on the chair in the corner, we threw some sheets down on the floor, fucking like animals there. It was a mad house, and she was the loudest woman I have been with up to that point. I mean, she was so loud, that I had to cover her mouth in the hopes that there wouldn’t be any complaints. That shit turned her on even more. It was ridiculous, but well worth it. Her co-worker and Derrick came over banging on the door, Rochelle answers it, hiding behind the door;

“Aye girl, you okay?”

“Hell Yes!”

Closes the door. About 40 minutes later, we are still fucking, the phone rings and they tell us its time to bounce. I tell the dude that I will send my boy down with 10 extra dollars for another hour. I call up Derrick in the next room to do that for me, he agrees. I give him the money, he asks me what he should do. I ask him to wait. He actually waited the whole extra hour. I continue to slay this chick, for the next hour. And on many other occasions. I would go to her apartment in Kingsbridge to do noting but fuck. Nice. But when I leave the room, Derrick is out there chilling, smoking a blunt. We walk ole girl out to the street, where she hails a cab. We opt to take the train.

“Damn sonnnnn, you was murdering that bitch, yo, ole girl was worried and shit”

“Word?”

“Yeah nigga, after we went back in the room, she was asking about yo ass nigga, we just stopped and shit”

“How the fuck we get home?”

“I dunno, I’m tapped, I didn’t tell you, that bitch stole my money and shit”

“BWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA”

“

I am Having My Mother Commited because Of This

I had a somewhat serious conversation with my mother today, and it didn’t go according to plan. She and I are trying to find a way to ease my grandmother into the twilight of her life. I love grandma, but some things have got to change. Sometimes old people do not know when it is time to let go. Or as the religious folks will say; let god. People that know me will think I am being callous in my actions, because after all, there is real estate involved in all of this. A business that, I have helped to build since I was a kid. When I was 15, and my girlfriend at the time would venture to the back of the building so that that I could show her my teenage magic stick. Good Times. People in my family would say that I am being an asshole, because I much rather send grandma to Florida to live with my aunt and her kids. Therefore giving the business to me as a gift. Of course to get over tax issues. It is only right. Black people that have something should leave something other than bills. Leave a legacy damnit.

I have to mention that my gramma, when she mentions Obama she says his name; OBACK BARAMY. That just makes me want to throw up.

But that isn’t the issue today. My issue is this. I was speaking with mother today, and we started going into politics. Now,, the conversation started innocent enough. That was until she brought up that horrible television show, by Tyler Perry. I told her the show was garbage and not worthy of even watching. Now, I stand by that, as someone who writes scripts, and movies, that show is utterly disgustingly horrible.

Those were my words to mother. I threatened to cut her cable off so that she would not be able to watch it. And I will do that the next time she says the show is good.

Many times I have went inside of mother’s apartment. She loves listening to the radio. It is even on when she isn’t there. The shit that saddens me is that it is always on right wing radio stations. I mean I will walk in there looking for some grub, and I am hearing Rush Limbaugh. I think she goes to sleep with the shit. There are other pundits that I cant name but dam, right wing radio is what it is; it sucks ass.

But this conversation earlier today made me come to my decision;

Me: Ma, you talk to gramma?(lemme borrow some money) what she was talking about(lemme borrow some money)what she say about auntie?

Ma: You owe me not only money, but the 27 hours of labor that I went…

Me: (changing subject) I think Obama will win in Wisconsin because he is…

Ma: I am not voting for him, I’d rather vote for Tyler Perry, I wish Tyler Perry was running, because he….

Me: Ma, it’s the white house, not the pink house.

Ma: You sound just like your no good cousin!

Me: She is an idiot, she is too fat to fit in the ballot box anyways…

Ma: You’re right, well, I’m voting for someone else come November…

Me: Ma, cmon, you’re voting for Hilary?

Ma: No mister wise guy, I’m voting for Alan Keyes, he is still in the running.

Me: Ma, I got to go, will talk to you later(lemme borrow some money) okay?

Ordinary Sleep Patterns

With friends like these, who needs enemies? I sure don’t. I just don’t get it sometimes. Maybe I am not supposed to get it. Perhaps I should just sit down, don’t say anything, never voice my opinions. Which, I only try to do when I am asked to. I haven’t wrote anything on this blog in a long time, and wasn’t too interested in it anymore, until a show that I watch came on. And the theme of this episode was commitment issues. And I thought about a certain situation. I thought about a ton of situations.

I’ve said before that lack of sleep, and anxiety attacks make me write. Today, luckily I am suffering from both. I went to sleep earlier this afternoon, highly upset about something, so pissed that I dreamt of it, and the dream pissed me off, and it woke me up. Its like, have you ever asked someone a question, and they either don’t answer, get mad that you asked, or completely try to be evasive of flip it around. Those type of games are ridiculous. It’s like the current administration. So secretive and misleading, yet arrogant and unknowing of their own blunders. Kind of like, they pick and choose when they want to give a fuck. But expect you to roll with it, and or gets mad when you don’t understand just what they are dong. But don’t ask them shit, or its curtains.

BREAK 1

Man, what a weird dream for that short time I was sleep. I dreamt I worked as a financial advisor, but the office was in some sort of sex shop. Very weird. One of the female managers told me she like me, and I seemed to be too good of as person to be in that line of work. I will have to chalk that up as me eating chicken again before I went to bed. Damn, it is always the chicken. I never have weird dreams with pasta. Doesn’t matter, I am always going to have vivid dreams, I just wont tell anyone anymore. Just gives them more reason to disrespect me, or call me weird. Everyone is a fucking judge. I am going back to sleep. My last break was too short. I haven’t had much sleep, due to an overwhelming anxiety attack. Usually, I will go outside, and have a smoke or something, but it snowed today, and the cold air is unforgiving. I did opt to walk around the block a couple of times, however. I paid the penalty, got some snow in my boot, now my foot feels frostbitten. It is time for another break.

BREAK 2

It is now like 3:30pm. I slept for a long time, but I am still super tired. Had a dream that I was living in the same house with my father that was weird. The whole shit was weird, I had a shit load of shirts that were obviously too small, but I put them in the closet anyways. I then left out, and went somewhere on the train. I was traveling with someone, and we kept running for the damn train, I know my hand had got stuck in the door, and I told them to go on. Told them I would catch up. Somehow I got to the top of he subway car, and was going to go ahead and climb down to the car my friend was in, but they hit a button, and I just fell into some vehicle. Weird, maybe they just dint want me around. But I took this vehicle, and drove to my old neighborhood, where a cop, was just shooting people like wildfire. I got the hell from there, that’s for sure. I think I am aggravated now is because someone was banging on my door, and they knocked on the shit like they were the fuzz or some shit. And I hate to be woken up like that. No one died, so stop the bullshit knocking. I am still groggy, and I haven’t even been drinking. And on that note, I’m going to get some merlot, have a glass or two, and go back to sleep. I got to shake this unwanted feeling of feeling unwanted, and disrespected.