Fitting

Final piece for 2018. Final piece for my current residence also. Creatively, this year has not been one I take pride in. Self-deprecation would have me believe it was laziness and procrastination that prevented my ideal creative output from happening. May be some truth to that. But so many shifts outside art took place that if I step back and *Raekwon voice* analyze da whole shit, one person can only do so much, and beating myself up would be unfair.

This piece is definitely a representation of my mental and emotional state for majority of the year. Let’s title it Porosity for now. New feelings, ideas, concepts and truths found their way in. Growth is so uncomfortable and awkward and disorientating at times. When I hear the phrase “I lost (parts of)myself in the process”, it no longer sounds like some dramatic excuse for not being focused. I one hundred percent get that shit now.

A happening

A happening

Haven’t made an entry in a minute. I’ve been hand journaling. It’s more satisfying — incorporating typography into the process of spilling my thoughts with some doodles here and there. It probably looks scatter-brained to everyone but me. Various ink colors signifying my emotional reaction to the initial thought. It works, helps put me back into whatever mental and emotional state I was in at the time. Sometimes, issues need re-addressing.

Because I’m too bent to work and too up to lay down

I play this and I can’t decide if he or Freddie Gibbs rocked the sample better.

I won’t lose my grip, ‘fore I turn Cobain

I like this because Larry King’s ego flexes so hard and Neil Tyson just poots all over it. But un-offensively.

I don’t fear death… I love the unknown.

An almost 8-year-old 13th Witness video of him recording some dude skateboarding through a city in Japan.

IDK, just get random urges to watch it.

Probably some un-satisfied 7th grade yearning to kick flip.

bday1

a flick of me in a DC hookah lounge inhaling some alien tainted shit

(wishing it was hash)

I’m a FBZ stan. (you all should see them live)

Do you like being yo mother?

I need to learn how to make gifs quickly.

_mg_4829

Submitting the final copy of this book I’ve been tasked to illustrate.

If nothing else, it really exposed my procrastinating side.

We all could get so much done if we created more than we consumed…

or at least at the same rate.

(as I continue to think of irrelevant things to say and links to share)

*shrugs*

_mg_5170

Creations.

Get A Grip

I think about death a lot.

Probably more than I’d care to admit.

But, I barely care about incoming perceptions.

Most of my cares are superficial.

It’s just the end of things on this physical plane. Right?

Lets say death is that.

What is it about the idea of death that bothers people so much?

Is it guaranteed uncertainty combined with the thoughts of impending pain?

What if you’ve learned to accept uncertainty?

What if pain really is just “weakness leaving the body?”

If one accepts those two ideas as (a) truth, where does that place death on one’s list of concerns?

I think about life a lot

Scattered thoughts. Round 1

Scattered thoughts. Round 1

typed over the course of some un-calculated number of days

A whole lot of porn gifs on my Tumblr stream. And I’m realizing that I just have to search harder on there for scenes with black women. Need some fucking variety.

Still working at a place I don’t want to be at for people I don’t deeply care about. Still trying to get a permanent slot — which is really just shorthand for get paid more, get better benefits and the weekends off (maybe). But I’ve become a firm believer in putting energy into getting the things you want. I don’t mean physical energy, in this case. I mean the positive energy of more or less saying to yourself “I want this. I will get this. It has to happen because I feel like I need it to.” Like, a kind of desperate, last-ditch mental effort sort of energy. And I don’t really have that. At least not to give to something I don’t want to do. My paychecks just really stink at the moment.

Every now and then, I’ll google Aiyana Jones. I wish I knew why her name stays in my head. One of the many victims of negligent police. I really hope the cop who pulled the trigger suffers psychologically every day, until he kills himself.

And what’s odd is for the past 2 weeks or so, I’ve tuned out the daily news. I heard someone suggest that the day-to-day news is actually a distraction from the things that matter. I don’t know exactly what those “things” were — different things to different people, for sure. I agree with the statement more than I disagree. The daily news (to me) feels way too repetitive to be as informative as it is intended to be.

Trying your best to remove thoughts of the future is the greatest ally when it comes to getting to know people. In any capacity. Expectations could potentially ruin something that’s perfect for the moment. Today’s blessings tend to get overlooked for tomorrow’s dreams. Under-appreciated as well. I don’t know, I might just be caught up in these slow exhales. Oh Mary Mary Mary

The downside to self-awareness is the potential for becoming obsessed with your own deficiencies. What one feels, about themselves or others, is just one perspective. But it’s your own — it’s the default perspective, I’d say. There isn’t enough positive reinforcement in the world to change that if you struggle to “get out of your own head”.

I don’t get how a subject that is tied to human “decency” and just…baseline kindness towards others can somehow be talked about with a political air to it. I feel like political subjects are things spoken about within the context of man-made laws. And even though the concept of race (read:color) was created to further govern people, I think what it’s turned into is cultural. The severe fracture in “race-relations” (read:huemans) is not a political issue. The statements made out against racial injustices are not political statements. They’re cultural. If anyone comes out and says the culture of this nation is one that has made their people continue to be seen as less than, that’s not a statement that should lead to a political debate. It should lead to talks about customs that get passed down, ideas/beliefs that are shared in public and behind closed doors. It should lead to internal examinations of oneself. You can’t legislate hate and contempt out someone’s heart. You can’t veto the belief that a certain kind of life is easily expendable. And those kinds of statements shouldn’t send people into an opposing rage — unless they’re the people benefitting from these cultural deficiencies. Nobody wants their unearned good fortune fucked with.

W.A.T.T.B.A.

The following is a quote from today’s episode of Meet The Press

…France’s 9-11

How in the hell does Amerikkkan media manage to interject this nation into another country’s misfortune? Maybe I should I ask why. I didn’t really want to type anything in regards to what happened this past Friday. I don’t have anything insightful or new to add. But, here I am…typing about this shit. I personally feel like it was an extreme act of violence more-so than terrorism. But, for the sake of this entry, I won’t rock that boat. Merriam-Webster defines terror as violence that is committed by a person, group, or government in order to frighten people and achieve a political goal or a very strong feeling of fear. It defines terrorism as the systematic use of terror especially as a means of coercion. I’m going to run with that, as getting into the etymology of terror will take me very far off course. Friday’s incident was an act of acute terror. I came across the theory of acute acts of violence in this book titled Mind Fist. It was speaking on acute bullying. It also spoke on chronic bullying. Acute and chronic — the former being brief, and the latter being long standing. If Friday’s incident was acute terrorism, then are there acts of chronic terrorism?

I live in Baltimore. The 301st homicide was recorded last night. What that last sentence doesn’t include is the non-fatal shootings/stabbings/assaults. It also doesn’t include that crazy shit that doesn’t get reported to the police and/or (occasionally) by local news stations. I’m not exaggerating when I say that living in a city like this can invoke terror — terror of the chronic kind. People can become numb to chronic pains though. People live with chronic injuries everyday, right? So chronic acts of terror tend to be treated as an extreme nuisance, at best. It’s especially true when the chronic terror is happening to the ignored, underappreciated, (sometimes) unwanted members of society — both locally and globally. There was, and will be, no nationally televised week long “how do we recover from this” mourning period for McKenzie Elliot, the 3 year old girl killed in North Baltimore last year. Nor will there be one for Tyshawn Lee, the 9 year old boy killed due to modern day tribalism in Chicago. Yet, a random act of (extreme) violence happens in the post-happy hour hustle and bustle of a prosperous metropolis, and the entire world gasps at the horror for 168 straight hours. Then the usual follow-up of what-ifs, who done its, how can we prevents and whys. If we were to judge by the amount of coverage these incidents receive, compassion would seem to be a conditional thing in today’s world. I don’t say that to “downgrade” what happened in France. My intent is the opposite. But is it psychologically feasible to process every violent death the same? Why does the quantity, and quality, of the life taken still seem to factor into where the world’s compassion lays, and for how long? Remember the almost 150 people murdered at Garissa University College back in April? Yeah, I didn’t either. Is the fact that it happened in the African nation of Kenya — a place people consider 3rd world — the reason it was so quickly forgotten? I feel safe in saying I think most Amerikkkans think all of Africa is either fucking war-torn or a jungle, and any violence that happens is just their way of life. Chronic terror. Trivializing death here because it happens more than it does there doesn’t make the death here more bearable and less tragic.

Don’t put chronic pains in the back of your mind. Every “ouch” deserves the same amount of attention. Take care of your body. Take care of every body.

Run-on Sentence of Existence

This has been in my drafts since June.

My days are running together Everyone has experienced that so it’s really nothing shocking It’s in some unexplainable way making me devalue specific events but value the totality of life I’ll have to dive deeper into what that means later If I can remember to do so There’ll probably be no human witnesses It’ll most likely just be me and the roor Contemplating things on the floor pillow Like watching both my parents deteriorate slowly without being able to help because things like that are meant to happen Coming to terms with things like that is probably some sort of preventative maintenance for the soul And I guess the ego since possession of things is tied to that

Tiny Fits of Rage

I’m leaving the market on Saturday, and I overhear woman say to the on-duty cop “Happy Saturday”. It was about a 40 yard walk from the door of the building to my car. And I was mumbling to myself during the entirety of that short walk “what the fuck is happy Saturday?”. Over and over. Once I closed my door, I lost it. “How the fuck do you wish someone a happy Saturday?” “On whose authority…” “ITS NOT A FUCKING HOLIDAY” “Bitch I had to work today, and I have to work tomorrow. Find some fucking happiness in that.” “FUCK IS YOU TALKIN BOUT LADY?!” It went on for about 3 minutes. It was hysteria, by definition. I mean, I wasn’t convulsing or anything. It was just me, talking aggressively to the steering wheel, mixed with some negro-giggles. I don’t have a wife or kids, so my free-time is whenever I feel like unplugging. And since I don’t really have to designate my joy/relief to a certain day of the week, I can’t fully relate to the “the weekends finally here” way of life that lots of people live. OR I’m just a grump. Don’t wish me a happy Saturday/Friday either way.

Ben Carson wants you to have more sex

Ok, he didn’t exactly say that but it’s implied. Sort of. Fast-forward to the 4 minute mark (or watch the whole thing if you please. I’d actually suggest that.) Dr. Carson believes we’re lagging behind as a country, in comparison to China and India — both of which have a shit ton of people. But a good portion of those tons of people live in the Amerikkkan equivalent of below the poverty line. So, I’m not sure why he thinks more people will lead to more success. I don’t know the ins and outs of maintaining a corporation disguised as a nation. Apparently, according to Ben, it’s more bodies *cough* chattel *cough*

Stranger Danger

Check it. I hit Trillectro this weekend. I’m chilling in the very back of the pavilion section (wishing I had a joint). I got caught slipping. Out of fucking nowhere, this chick comes up, sits on the armrest of the empty chair beside me and commences to take a selfie… with me. No hi, no introduction. First words out my mouth: I’m not who you think I am. Not going to get into why I said that, just trust me. In return, I get a weird stare that let me know that what I just said didn’t register as relevant because she just continued to hold the phone up.

“Yo what are you doing?”
“It’s a selfie.”
“I know that but why?”
*skips off*

No, I did not give chase. I laughed to myself, and wondered who else just saw what happened and thought “what the hell was that about?” like I did. I wouldn’t consider myself skittish. Maybe a tad standoffish. I’m just not the type to run up on people I don’t know, and I kind of expect that same treatment. Clearly, shit does not work like that. Yo she was probably down for whatever, should’a bagged that is what (I feel like) most dudes, and some chicks, would say after hearing that short re-cap. That might be true. But I can’t say I find strange women — who appear without warning or greeting, steal a small piece of your soul with cellular photography technology, and then prance off like it’s normal — appealing. That is some loony shit to me. Actually, it’s loony. Period.

With that said, shout out to all the women who didn’t stab a dude when they rolled up on them on some disrespectful shit. Your tolerance is applauded forever.