Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Harmony in the face of Sinusoids

Sometimes I like to tell myself to start writing.  Sometimes I like to believe that one day, people might start taking my advice.  I try to walk softly and carry a big stick.  I like to think that one day the world will wake up, smell its own shit, and realize there ain't nothin' rosy about it.

Until then, all I got is that stupid old Obama washout that preaches hope.  Who is Shephard Fairey anyways, and where did he come from?

Have you seen Exit Through the Gift Shop? 

Do you wonder why the same guy who brought us hope also gave us obey?  Have you been trained by a system designed to build factories to think like a robot?  Are you ready to go Office Space and Rage Against the Machine?  I am. Fear sucks. Let's elevate our game.

What can you believe in? Hmmm, why is that such a hard question to you? Do you think you are an Avatar or something?  No one aksed you to save us. 


Have you ever had a pair of Chuck's?  Or Vans? I just got a pair of Chrome's, and they look kind of fly, but what is left to prove?  I can be a pretty cool cat out on the streets, but I just want to be one in my family.

I balled my eyes out in the streets of Puerto Rico.  It was the first time I cried, I mean, well, really cried, since Thankgiving. I used to cry a lot on Thanksgiving Weekends.

I'd put a bullet in my head, like Harry did in the back room, but my mom is in that room sleeping.  What makes her so tough?  What do I have to do to make her proud of me?  How can I let her know how proud of her I am? 

My Uncle Burt gives me wisdom, my sister Jill shows me toughness, and my cousin Will gives me resolve.  I'm not Kurt Cobain, I'm a giant Payne.

And, of course, there is my Soul Mate.  She couldn't even say a bad word to a fly, never mind harm one.  I'd like to go bad on her bosses, all at once.  And it would be so easy for me.  When you've gone bad on a bunch of kids in Oakland, it is easy to trap anyone who has been trained by an evil system to lock their feelings in a vault.  I'm sorry Mr, will your wife let you talk about your feelings?

I think Eminem understands how I feel.  I like to think he is reading my blog.  "You are a very brilliant thinker, Marshall", I say in my overeducated white male voice.  That voice always wraps up with an awkward chuckle.  I got the metaphor Marshall.  I hear you.  You were cleaning out your closet, and you weren't sorry.  You were trying to lead by example.  8 mile, that was a good movie.  Purr of a kitten, eye of a Tiger, I got it.  If I were in a tribe or on some quest for love, you would be my bunny rabbit.

I don't know your story, and still, I do know.  I think I am the one you were waiting for.  But this ain't about a moment, and you can't lose yourself.  It takes discipline, and this is a long journey, and it will be a struggle.  But, let's think of this as the tipping point, and give me a straw and something to sip on, and we just might break Camel Joe's back.  But bartender, make it a Shirley Temple, wink, smile cuz I still know how to flirt like a muthafucka, and you always know you can trust someone you can share a look with.

- White Thought







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