Why is a Brotha is So Liberal...

First of all, when I say I'm 'liberal', I'm not talking politics... only... or even mainly...

I'm pretty much liberal in everything. And I've got good enough reason; if you had good sense, you'd have good reason, too. So, what I'm 'bout to do, is I'm 'bout to knock some of this here good sense into you. And maybe, just maybe, you'll find some of that good reason.

A friend of mine pointed something out to me the other day. It was one of those things that everybody knows, but that we just don't think about or try to grasp the significance of. She said, "America is one of the youngest countries in the world."

What did she mean? Simply this: America didn't exist til what... 1776? What do you think existed before 1776... a world of savages? Even the Native American "savages" that the White man found when he got here weren't "savages"; they were just different, like any other country would be, minus the firepower to protect their way of life.

So... we spend so much time uplifting and defending the "American way of life". Like it's the ultimate good or something, right? But at what point does a young country get the nads to say it represents the standard for all countries? What, just because we've got money? Just because we've got weapons? But then, we say that we're "God's country" and all "Christian" and everything. But every real Christian knows that "the love of money is the root of all evil", that "thou shalt not kill"/"turn the other cheek"/"love thine enemies", and that God's real country is Israel.

WHAS UP AMERICA? Some of you "conservatives" are more liberal with your beliefs than you've got the good sense to realize; practically making up sh!t as you go along, to be honest...

Ehhh, I think I'm digressing. Let's reset again: why is a brotha so liberal?

I'm so liberal because conservativism is used as a gross misrepresentation of rightness. This is what conservativism really is: it is conserving whatever the status quo is. The assumption is that the status quo is "good"...

See how dumb that is? REEL dumb.

Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Perhaps I should do this before I call anyone dumb: I'm going to lay down the law of "rightness". After I lay down the law, then a conservative can test himself or herself to see if dumb is too strong, too weak, or just right a term for them.

1. "Right wing" does not translate into "righteous wing" or "correct wing". It is a term of location, a preposition, meaning "eastward". I wouldn't put it past some people to believe otherwise, so I had to make it clear...

2. "Might" does not, in fact, "make right". Let me rephrase that: might does make right, and the only might that exists is God's might.

And you are not Him. Sorry.

3. Rightness does not come from routine. If you do wrong because it's tradition, then you're just traditionally wrong. Two wrongs don't make a right; two more don't either. It's a transitive mathematical formula...

4. Rightness is unbiased. Just because the majority benefits from wrong doesn't mean that the suffering of the minority is right or excusable. If you break a few eggs, then you're a dirty egg-breaker. I've broken a few eggs, but the important thing is I recognize it and regret it; I never said it was the right thing to do.

5. Personal interests don't create rightness. If rightness doesn't get one what he or she wants or feels he or she deserves, then whatever else he does to attain it is still wrong.

6. Rightness is biblical, not constitutional. Rightness is biblical, not congregational. Rightness is biblical, not emotional. Rightness is biblical, not economic. Rightness is biblical, not debatable.

Now, how dumb do you feel? You don't hafta answer out loud, though I'd love to hear it. And I'm just gonna be frank people: America is guilty of all this to the utmost degree, i.e., defining right in terms of what's convenient.

...why would I want to conserve that?

I'll level with you: in a perfect world, I'd be of a conservative mindset. Truthfully, I have conservative tendencies; the difference is, my conservativeness is in my spiritual beliefs, not my political affiliations. Because, contrary to popular belief, the two don't coincide. And I find more Jesus-like sentiment in the most shunned and despised places; you see, He was shunned and despised too.

To you conservatives out there, we are to conserve what is right, not what is traditional. If you'd open your eyes, you'd be surprised at how different those two things are.

Again, this isn't just politics I'm talking; it's most everything. Make sure you lift your head first before you nod in agreement...


P.S. - I'm Only a Democrat Because There Isn't a Labor Party! B-J

The Super

For every student, I believe there's a point in schooling when you know you've already "made it". No, you don't know everything, not even in your selected field; you don't even have a diploma, and you've got several classes left before you receive one. But you've reached a point where you know whatever you're "supposed" to know in order to advance you on your particular life-journey.

I have reached this point. As of last night I now 'know', and truthfully, I think I've always known. It's just that, now, I can better articulate my suspicions and I know that there were others before me who have thought as I've thought.

So, what is it that I 'know' now? It's very simple: I know what it is to be truly human. I can see my own potential, built upon a clean slate and not upon the social constructs that others have laid before me. It's a return to the foundation of what it is to be a person.

But, I'm not done yet.

I've spent this whole semester cutting away the foliage of society to get to the root of you and me. Never once did my faith in Jesus Christ waver in the face of logic; even in things I didn't agree with, I could nonetheless see the rationale that lay beneath them. All in all, my study of sociology has left me with a question:

Are we called to be human?

I know what dehumanization is; most of us live our lives as sub-humans, exploited and alienated from ourselves, each other, our being, our labor... so many things. It's not dehumanization that I'm leaning toward here when I question the call to be human. If dehumanization is what makes us sub-human, and if sociology uncovers the hidden humanity beneath society's oppression, then I suggest there is, perhaps, a super-human who grows from the foundation of humanity. Let me explain...

In a world where all are liberated, maybe there is no super-human... and perhaps there is no need for one. When we are allowed to just 'be', then there is no struggle to find our 'being'. But in a world such as ours, with so many forces at work, where humans are reduced to sub-humans, and where one is not allowed exist as a mere human being without resistance... Put simply, in order to be human, one must be allowed to do so freely, without oppression.

But ponder this: What separates 'good' from 'great'? What separates 'ordinary' from 'extraordinary'? What separates 'mediocre' from 'exceptional'? It's difficulty. And in this world, one cannot be human except with much difficulty. And with that difficulty, one must exert more than the reasonable effort just to achieve 'human' status.

The term 'super' means 'above' or 'beyond'; to become human, we must go above and beyond our circumstances. So, if any person says that he or she is human, in a world constructed to force that person into sub-humanness, how can that person NOT be super-human?

Yet again, however, I find philosophy being an equation to an answer that was already written in God's Word: "If any man be in Christ, he is a new creature; old things are passed away". I'm not sure if my interpretation is right, but you know what I think? I think that the "new creature" is a human who is removed from the constraints of society. In Christ, you live your life according to His standards, and not to those constructed by this world and society. Thus, you live in society, but you are not subject to society: "in this world, but not of this world". You live 'above' and 'beyond' your circumstances... a super-human.

I know some philosopher or sociologist or psychologist is turning over in his grave right now--- maybe turning over in his bed--- but this is my personal interpretation-leading-to-action*. I am super-human because, in the face of known oppression, I know what it is to be human and, through exceptional effort, I continue being human.


Now THAT'S a Liberal Arts Education... B-J



*"Philosophers have hitherto only interpreted the world in various ways; the point is to change it."
-Karl Marx, Theses on Feuerbach

Mack's Stroll

If you've got the time, let me rap to you
Or not; it's totally up to you
I'll continue

When you first saw me, what did you discover?
I'm sorry; didn't mean to blow your cover...
Let me start over

My name is Matthew; it was the name given me
By the one who delivered me
But that's no mystery

So why is it so important, what I show and tell?
Formal introduction; still you don't know me well
Get to know me better, what's inside this shell

I'm no stranger, meaning we have much in common
For instance: A-men or Amen?
...A virtuous woman

And I'm sure you seek a man, not a womb
A man who won't bring woe and gloom
'Cause we both know life can be a tomb

I'm asking for a lot, so I gamble and approach
Not as another player, not even a coach...
I won't transform at midnight when you need me the most

You don't hafta take my hand, just take my heart
I can't find any peace while it's falling apart
But your beauty, to my mind, is a healing art

I'm your harp; in your hands I can't control myself
The sounds of my soul are written to your clef
Make me right until there's nothing left...



DavDee, you need to stop givin me ideas Brotha. Big-Ups for that Willie Hutch... B-J

A Raisin in the Sun... Was Once a Grape

How in the world did I become so sensitive? It's not even funny... It's like I've got my own form of ESP that causes EVERYTHING to hit me in the chest...

I just came home from a play. I was supposed to be there just supporting my friend in her acting career (excellent performance by the way). But I can't just sit there and watch this play: I hafta identify with a character; I hafta relate situations in the play to situations in my life; I hafta ask God why Walter (or anybody for that matter) can't risk something and just win; I hafta have real feelings about a fictional production.

I hate plays...

So who is Walter? Well, I guess I'd better explain the play before I go any further. The play I saw was "A Raisin in the Sun" by Lorraine Hansberry. It was about an urban Black family--- a man, his wife, their son, the man's sister and mother all living in the mother's house--- "back-in-the-day" trying to make a better life for themselves using the insurance money from their patriarch's passing. Walter is the son of that patriarch, and the male head of the household.

But that's not the part that I identify with...

Walter is a cab-door opener for the White people in the city of Chicago. The "problem" is, he's not satisfied with that; he feels he deserves to live prosperously, as they do. He feels his family should be well-off, his wife draped in pearls, his son able to become whatever he wants, and he with the privilege of having a White man saying "yessir" to him instead of the opposite. In short, he has dreams.

THAT's what I identify with...

His goal is to take the insurance money from his father's passing (technically, his mother's money) and start a successful liquor business with it. Was this a good idea? I mean, from a capitalist's perspective, yes; personally, as a Christian, I wouldn't support starting a liquor business.

But that's a dot; I'm getting sidetracked...

Put simply, when I saw how the people closest to him reacted to Walter's dreaming... that's where I saw myself. I mean, the people around him loved him, no doubt. But they lacked his vision. Take his mother for instance; she said she was against it because Walter's idea was a liquor business, and she was a Christian...

I didn't see it as that. Think about it: if you don't agree with someone's dreams and you love that person, then you help them create another dream; you don't just shoot down his dream and act like "that's-that". I think it was more along the lines of his wife's reasoning: the fact that taking risks can lead to bad results. Something that "everyone knows".

I'm talking about Walter, but I'm speaking from experience...

I'm not saying I agree with a man spending more time with friends than family, but I can relate to Walter when he talked about spending so much time with "Willie and the fellas"; they supported him, and his family did not. Granted, Willie stabbed Walter in the back (figuratively) before it was all said and done; had he not done that, risk would have been rewarded. Willie did what Willie did because Lorraine Hansberry wrote that into a script; I hafta keep telling myself that...

I feel like I'm losing my train of thought here, so I'm going to make this quick.

It hurt me to see Walter fight for a dream with no support, then come up short due to circumstances beyond his control and hafta shoulder the entire blame; that could easily be me someday. Yes, his wife warned him that Willie was shady; the fact is, she would have said Willie was shady even if Willie wasn't. Because Willie proved to be shady, we say she's an intuitive, wise woman; if Willie hadn't done what he did, we would've said she was meddlesome and desperate for attention. I can't think of one female I've seen in a relationship who was ever happy when her significant other was spending much time with his homies (feel free to correct me if I'm wrong, I can only say what I've seen). This is just how things work in real life.

The whole scene made me think of something...

How many plays, movies, stories, etc. are there about people taking risks and coming back empty-handed to some "I-told-you-so's" from the people that "love" them? I mean... if real life was like that, where risk was never rewarded, then NOBODY would ever be successful. Think about it...

I had to tell myself that after watching this play. This classic play, as powerful and "wise" as it is, also creates this sense of helplessness to a person like me--- a young, Black man who wants more from life than what he's offered. It creates this spirit that says, "You can't go beyond; you hafta settle where you are or be destroyed". And it compensates by having a moment of triumph at the end, where Walter steps out on faith, refuses to be paid off by a White man to stay out of a White neighborhood, and moves his family from urbania to suburbia.

I'm making my points with bias, yes. 'Know why? Because it's fiction; if the story was real, I would treat it as such. But I hafta remind myself that it's fiction, because my instinct is to let this work move me and defer my dreams. And while I'm at it, allow me to give you this poem that was the inspiration for "A Raisin in the Sun"; a piece by Langston Hughes called "A Dream Deferred""

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore---
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over---
Like a syrupy sweet?

Maybe it just sags
Like a heavy load.

Or does it explode?

Mr. Hughes, it does ALL these things. And not just to the dreamer, but to those who watch the dreamer, like we who were privileged to be in the audience at the production.

I've got one more thing to touch on before I go. You know I love romance, so I gotta go there before I leave...

The character Ruth, Walter's wife in the play, was the role played by my friend (did I mention Ruth was very beautiful?). And Ruth holds significance to me, not just because my friend was in the role, but because she represents something that troubles me as an activist.

As much as I love love, I'm reluctant to fall into it. Why? So many reasons, but this is the one pertaining to this situation: when a man falls in love, then love and wife and family take priority. And his dreams become... so much more dreamlike. As in, unattainable.

I mean, don't get me wrong, Walter's dreams were dreams FOR his family, so it's a little different than my situation. Let's put it in perspective: if Walter's dream is for his family, then my dream is for people like Walter, feel me? Why? Because, due to family and responsibility and attachments, Walter can't afford to risk anything for a brighter future. You shoulda heard what was goign on in my head as I sat in the audience:

"TOO SOON Brotha! You tied the knot TOO SOON! Awww dawg, she's fine, but you married her TOO SOON!!"

Me, on the other hand... I've got nothing to lose but my mind. That's how I always wanted it. Not that I want to be single forever (I don't think) or go crazy (I don't think), but I do want to be available to do what I can when the time comes. So many brothas have given up on so much, and all because they had families and got responsibilities with them.

It's admirable; the world isn't changing. You've still gotta move to a "White" neighborhood to live comfortably...


One thing I know: whoever I fall in love with, she's gotta be a special type of woman. Because... I have a lot of dreams. Some men need a Ruth to keep them from opening liquor stores; some men need a Coretta Scott King to help them set the world on fire. Some men dream for their families; some men dream for the world.

A Raisin in the Sun was Once a Grape... (BANG) B-J

Razor Under My Tongue

Aight, it's no excuse; not tryna make one. This is my blog, where I speak mainly to myself about myself to put myself in perspective. Back-back...

So I notice I've been slipping a few 4-letters in my speech here and there recently. I really am trying to stop, I really am. Not many know this (cuz not many people REALLY know me like they like to think they do), but I used to cuss a lil bit back in middle school. It was mainly due to pressure and provocation and being around others the cussed. But real talk, it didn't last long; once I got out of that environment, I didn't have any incentive to do it. It didn't fit me.

So, why now? What has caused me to be of the razor-tongued persuasion in recent months?

First of all, let me repeat again (cuz ya'll got short attention spans) that I do not endorse profanity, nor do I use it regularly in real time... when people are around. But the truth is, ever since my mom passed, I've been sitting on a lot. I am a person of very deep and intense feelings; even moreso because I keep them to myself. But what I've found is emotions have a tendency to find other ways to express themselves if not directly. Freudian slips of the tongue are one of these ways.

I was listening to this song the other day; I would mention the name, but it's somebody you don't listen to. Trust me... you don't. Anyway, he has this song, "Lil Mama's Gone", about how he stays in the streets because his Mama, his "home", is no longer alive. You might not be able to relate to this if you've still got your parents; you probably wouldn't even listen to a song like that because, somewhere inside, you don't even like the thought of that being possible. Believe me, I know; I didn't start listening until after it happened.

But when I think back to the fact that my mom's not here, and think about how powerful that really is and all the things surrounding the situation that I won't even mention here... Really--- even though I don't like or believe in cursing--- the only word that seems appropriate is 'damn'. And that's just the cold truth. I might not say it, but I feel it.

And I'm like that with a lot of situations nowadays. When I see someone acting stupid, doing stupid, being stupid... I mean, I've been forced to watch monkey-bizness all my life; I'm TIRED of it. If I don't say sumn, I might actually just swing on somebody one day...

I mean, I used to be a master at tucking my tongue. And it seemed like the more I tucked, the more reason I had to tuck. And it seemed like things were just happening because I wasn't allowed to say how I really felt; like poking a stick at a caged animal.

No excuse.

My other reason for letting the tongue slip and slit: even though I'm a Christian, I don't "fit-in" with a lot of Christians. I mean, I do "love the brethren" and such. What iggs me is how many ignorant, sheltered, overly-optimistic, naive, bougie, disconnected, judgmental, Heavenly-bound, Earthly-no good, ineffective Christians are constantly around me. Right is right, wrong is wrong; and clueless is clueless. You know what I mean? Like, the type of thinking that's making everybody try to scapegoat hip hop instead of addressing inner city poverty that causes starvation and desperation and deprivation... and THEN some lil songs.

I'm not gonna lie; sometimes I let one slip just to see how people will react. Why? Because I find it entertaining how little it takes for them to acknowledge you as a bad person in spite of all the good one might do. And I also find it entertaining what people prioritize as the most "imminent" evils; I know people who are more judgmental of words than they are of... rape, murder, blasphemy, theft, exploitation, greed, the love of money, absentee fathers, strippers, whores, pimps, and child pornography. I'm sorry Lord, but that's SOOOO entertaining to me. But I know it's wrong, and I'm really trying to stop.

Lastly... it's because... I'm still trying to find the scripture in the Bible that specifies exactly what qualifies as a curse word. Yes, it's splitting hairs, I know. But, if I'm right about this, then not only are THOSE words wrong, but any word similar to them such as shucks, rats, good grief, yowza, criminey, capitalism, and anything else that fits in the blank. You know me Lord; I question anything that isn't explicitly spelled out to me, because you know how Your people tend to take something and make it into whatever suits them.

Neither my intense emotional stress, nor my disdain for Conservative Mainstream Christian thinking, nor my inquisitive nature is an excuse for cursing. But they're my reasons. Deep beneath it all, those are the things that cause my tongue to slip at times. I've had it under control for some years now, so I know I can quit it. So I will. But now that I have real reasons, as opposed to when I was a kid and it was just pressure, it may be a liiittle more difficult. People with real issues might understand; if you're not one of those people, please don't go there with me. I won't cuss you out, but there's a million ways to bust grapes, crack pecans, wall nuts, shatter jewels, crush generations...

I'm just SAYING! B-J

The Voltron Disease; the One Lion Complex

*Prerequisite for this entry: Voltron is an animated robot (Japanese anime) composed of 5 lion robots. He is piloted by 5 space explorers. Think Power Rangers; it's the same thing, but Voltron came first and was made only of lion robots.

Arrighty, if you were with me for Romancexpress Vol. 1, you juuuust might remember me talking about hooking up with people and moving into some new ventures and adventures, right?

...Screw all that.

Don't get me wrong folks, things have been going GREAT as far as my networking with others and organizing. I have some very powerful people behind me, and once plans get set, I'm 100% certain moves will be made.

That's right; I said 100%. I'll tell you why 100% in juuust a minute...

First, let me say, I love Voltron. I love the idea of people coming together, putting aside their individual agendas to make positive things happen so that the-cheapness-that-is-talking won't persist. But, as much as I love Voltron and what he represents... I could whoop Voltron's a$$.

You know why?

"Nah Jigabod... Why?"

Cuz it takes Voltron 3/4's of an episode to pull himself together. 'You really think any real badguy/enemy/robeast/whatever-you-wanna-call-it would sit there and wait for this cat to:

Activate interlock... Dynotherms connected... Infracells up... Mega thrusters are go... LET'S GO VOLTRON FORCE!... Form feet and legs... Form arms and torso... And, I'll form the head!...
(strike gangsta poses)

I mean, you gotta love it. But yeah... I'd whoop his a$$ while he was doing all that. See, I have a Voltron mentality, but I'm Voltron without the disease...

"What disease?"

The disease of waiting for other people to get their acts together before I confront situations. I'm immune to that because I realized 4 things years ago: only a small percetage of people on this earth actually do what they say they're going to do; only a small percentage hold themselves accountable; only a small percentage actually consider something outside of themselves worthy of their participation; only a small percentage take responsibility for doing their part in anything.

(Heck, there's people that owe me money right now that I am 100% sure don't even remember it. But I won't ever bring it up; I never actually "loan" money, I just give it, because I know a loan would never be repaid, and we'd be beefing over it before people just own up and pay what they owe. Bit of a tangent... but not really.)

Do the math: that's 4 realizations that describe most of the people around me; 4 lions that a Voltron like myself is forced to do without. And you wonder why I'm so razor-sharp in everything that I do...

You wonder why I can crank out 20-page papers in one sitting, why my vocabulary is staggering, why I collect knowledge and wisdom like its going out of style (and it is), why I battle with lyrical geniuses in my spare time, why I stay in constant meditation and contemplation while others play and jest their time away, why I study the arts and thoughts of generals and philosophers, why I soak up "boring" information in class like it matters, why I must know my limits and constantly challenge myself to discover what I'm capable of...

It's all because, when push comes to shove, on any given Sunday, when the funk hits the fan... the ONLY cat I can depend on to represent every single time is me. And when it goes down, it doesn't matter if I'm just one lion in the Voltron body; if I'm not prepared to take down the entire enemy army on my own strength and skill, then the job just won't get done. You can tell me I'm wrong, but I know this from experience. That's just the world I'm living in; I didn't create it, I just recognize it.

So yeah... I'm 100% certain that moves will be made, because I'm not depending on backup. Trust me, anything that I undertake--- though I may ask for help during the process--- I am capable of pulling off by myself. I don't believe in limits; how can I "do all things through Christ, which strengthens me" on one hand, but believe "I'm only one person" on the other? That's hypocrisy and contradiction; God's Word is the only thing I bank on.

But the thing is, nobody wants to burn themselves out expending needless amounts of energy at a task that could be divided up. So I ask for assistance. And I'm thankful for the help I have, in fact, received; still, I know better than to contract Voltron Disease.

As the One Lion, my method is to go hard, like I'm the only one in the fight. And the hope is that proving it can be done will inspire those around me to rise up with me. And if it doesn't, no-matter. I'll take down the problem myself or die trying, knowing that either outcome is possible; this is the balance it takes to stand as one.

Think about it... B-J

Postcard from My Heart...

Yo, something just hit me a few minutes ago. I think this is the first time that I've gone so long without thinking about love. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's been on my mind. But for once, it hasn't been a forethought.

Or has it?

The truth is, all the thoughts I've had about love in the last few weeks have been... forced. They were moments when I was drifting, or when a young lady might have passed me, and I thought to myself, "that should mean something to me". I had to coerce myself to take notice.

And I can't quite put my finger on why I am this way. I mean, I have been much busier than usual, that could very well be it...

Yeah, that's definitely it.

I must say though, it's an odd feeling for me to not have love on my mind in some degree. I mean, I'm far from a Casanova, but love is my thing, my favorite subject in the school of life. Yet, it's Springtime, and I don't feel... anything.

Ya know, muscles do get burned out. And they say the heart is a muscle, so maybe I've exhausted mine. No biggie; I'm sure it'll recuperate soon enough. Incidentally, I don't even miss it that much.

I was talkin to my homeboi--- actually I always talk to my homeboi about this, practically every night--- about being in relationships vs. not being in relationships. And it seems like for every reason I can come up with to be in his shoes, he can give me ten to be satisfied in my own... and vice-versa. So we just laugh about our contentedness and malcontent in our respective places in life. And when it's all said and done, neither of us is really THAT eager to trade places.

So, my heart's on vacation. But don't get it twisted; I mean, in this lithe frame of mine, how far could it ever really go? Should the opportunity for a desirable love present itself, it wouldn't take much for my heart to come back I'm sure. You're all capitalists, I'm sure you know about work-spillover. Well, this would be considered a love-spillover; no place to run, no place to hide, etc.

Still, I wonder where my heart is at the moment...

Ya know, I had an odd thought the other day. While we all know that the physical heart is actually located in the left cavity of the chest, I'm almost positive that the "figurative heart" is located in the center--- partly inside and partly outside. I dunno... I had a strong feeling a few weeks ago, and I 'clare I could almost feel where that heart was. There was this strange warmth; I could almost feel it with my hand. 'Wish I could remember what was on my mind at that moment...

Anywasy, the heart's on vacation. This is a postcard; no return address, just a picture of a content young man who's a bit perplexed at his own disposition.

Is it me, or is my colloquial vocabulary starting to get more and more complex? Friggin sociology courses... B-J

A Good Week

Yeah, I procrastinate a lot. 'Know why? Mainly because I've got other things to do that I'm more concerned about and that mean more to me. Plus, I refuse to allow anything that I see as inconsequential to rule me. I mean, seriously... most things I do, I could just as easily not do and never miss. Most of what I'm doing even now is only being done as requirement by someone else. Such is life...

Once again, ya boy is swamped. But it's okay; you see, for the first time, I can see an end to the nonsense and the jumping through hoops. Got the good news yesterday: I'm 3 classes from graduation. Praise the Lord.

However, that's assuming I pass all my classes THIS semester. And to do that, I need to jump at this 20-page paper due tomorrow at midnight. Reportedly, there's a thunderstorm pending for tomorrow evening/Sunday morning, so I need to get a move-on so that I'm not defeated by my own brontophobia. Yeah... I still haven't beaten that yet.

Seriously though, I'm a little tuckered at the moment. Not exactly sleepy, but I can tell that my body is taxed. I'm involved in doing so many things at another's command, but when I'm not doing that, I'm trying to slip little bits of me and my agenda into... my life. How ironic.

(Sigh...) It's been a good week, folks. I don't mind the grind, as long as I'm a little closer at the end of the day. I had to cut a few corners, but I managed to insert some time for my personal agenda in the midst of the madness. And, thanx to a few random acts of God's grace, I was able to do more than I had even planned on.

Maybe... I've earned a night's rest. The question is, if I go to sleep now, will I wake up in time for this church meeting tomorrow; will I have enough time to finish my paper by midnight tomorrow; will I have enough energy to get back up on Sunday to conduct Youth Sunday; will I have to try to choke down my phobia to pull it all off, something I've never been successful in doing...

And don't get it twisted kids, that's not even half of what I hafta do in the coming days; even in the midst of it all, I hafta find the time and energy to wash my car before my dad gets petty and decides to take it from me or something... as if dirt on a car will at all affect my progress in life.

A young lady asked me what I was thinking about in class the other day; as you can see, there's a reason I usually answer that question with "nothing". I could be here all day telling you what's on my mind. I have things on my mind that don't even make good sense. Because we don't live in a world that makes good sense.

I should be writing my paper right now, but my concentration's no good at the moment. Yeah, I know everybody's got their problems; what's that got to do with me? What in the world in my life has any semblance to the things going on in the lives of those around me? I mean, that's one of the reasons it's so hard for me to find help in completing tasks; I'm an oddball who does and thinks about things that the average person in my vicinity doesn't take the time to do or consider.

For instance, right now I'm thinking...

SUPERTANGENT!!!!!

I would like to pack some things and walk out my front door right now. And when I get outside, I'd like for a huge, mystical train to come out of dark nothingness and park in front of my porch. I'd like to throw my suitcase over my shoulder and board the train; and from the moment I set foot on the train, I'd like time to stop cold.

Upon entering the train, I want to see nothing but familiar faces. Not exactly friends, just people that simply know where I'm coming from; if that includes my friends, then cool. All I want is people that I can make eye contact with and nod my head at, and they already know what's up. People of the same mind as me.

I find a spot in the back of this amazing train and grab an empty seat. As I sit, I glance across the aisle and meet eyes with something lovely; a stranger, but someone who knows me. And she asks if she can sit with me.

I invite her, sliding over to the window to make room and chucking my baggage into the seat she previously occupied. The train begins to pull off as she tumbles into the seat with me. It eases down the street, approaching the houses at the end of the court. But, once at the end of the street, it passes through the houses as if they were part of another world.

We gain speed quickly, and as we do the stranger leans against me in amazement. I place my arm around her as she smiles, and the train rises into the night sky. Where are we headed? No one cares, not even the driver; time has stopped and the world is ours. We pass over busy cities and quiet countrysides in eternal moments of rapture. Sparks fly from beneath the train as the wheels grind on some invisible, intangible rails that guide us higher and higher. And we find ourselves gliding into outer space, bending corners around planets and kissing the outskirts of the stars.

Eventually, my companion and I fall asleep. Nothing more than two cuddling passengers on a train to who-knows-where. And who cares what happens after that...

Random, yes. But that's how I feel right now. Funny thing is, this is me after a GOOD week. Possibly the BEST week I've had in a long time, actually. But I'm dog-tired and far from finished.

Coulda been writing my paper right now, I know; I just had too much on my mind. It's going on midnight; I don't think I'm gonna be up for very much longer. From the time I wake up tomorrow until... probably the end of next week, actually... it's gonna be a nonstop grind to the finish, once again. Looking forward to it.

Any week you can walk away from is a good one. B-J

Thoughts of a 'Philospher-King'

Let's set a mood for this one, aight? If you've got ya Outkast Aquemini's, let us all turn to track 15, the piece entitled Liberation. Arright?

Arright then.

Lemme start by saying: the world needs leaders. But let me follow up by saying: if every man is a leader, then who does he lead? It's a dilemma I keep having to choke down as I progress in my ventures. It's crazy because, when you're considered an intellectual, and you kick it with other intellectuals, you find that you're in a room full of leaders.

But the trip is, it doesn't start out that way. It never starts out that way...

It starts out with a bunch of people in a room, throwing ideas just because they can, never intending to do anything productive with them; just in love with the fact that they know a little somethin' that somebody else might not, feel me? I never liked that; when Karl Marx wrote his 11th point in his thesis on Feuerbach, I musta been a preincarnate baby spirit somewhere in Heaven amening my heart out.

And just so I don't come off as an intellectual throwing ideas for the hell of it myself, lemme post Marx's words up for your viewing pleasure:

"Philosophers have hitherto only interpreted the world in various ways; the point is to change it."
-Karl Marx, Theses on Feuerbach

Now, suck on that for a minute. I'm gonna put what I said earlier in different words now. It starts off with "philosophers" in a room, interpreting the world to each other for no reason and with no purpose. I never liked that.

So, as I sit in this room, methinks that something is wrong with this picture. All the talking doesn't amount to anything; you die a talker, and nobody will remember anything you said. The "point" is "change", as my favorite conflict theorist said.

Fine. Then let's get on with the change. And while I'm having this epiphany, I'm looking around the room at all these great minds, and it seems like it's perfect: surely, with all these great minds in a room together, we can get something accomplished!

So I'm drawing up plans, strategizing, exacting, pinpointing, dissecting, experimenting, testing, pondering, meditating, evaluating. They're still chit-chatting...

BAM, I'm ready. Let's do this thing.

So, I holla at the geniuses. "I've got a plan. This can work. 'We can rebuild him; we have the technology.' It's on US." And I get bunch of nods. Glorious! Change is a-comin'!

But then... it happens. And it blows my friggin mind every. Single. Time. All of a sudden, the philosophers-without-a-cause decide they want to become leaders-without-direction! AWWWW SON! WHAT IN THE WIDE WORLD OF SPONTANEOUS! AWWWWW SON!!

So, even though I've spent days upon days upon nights upon weeks contemplating and planning and plotting and... you get the idea. Even though I've got this thang laid out to the end of the world, somehow that's not good enough. And all of a sudden people, who in the beginning had no destination, come up with their own agendas and try to tack them on to what I've started! AWWWWW SON!!!

It's like you went out and bought apples to keep the doctor away, and after you bring them home somebody goes and makes apple pie out of the whole batch. SWEET GESTURE!... Instead keeping the doctor away, run my sugar and my cholesterol up, why don't ya, ya a$$?! Or like, when you get your license, but you find yourself running errands for other people... when YOU paid the gas money?! Or when you throw up a Hail Mary and it gets intercepted... by somebody on your own team... who is cross-eyed and running in the wrong direction... and they got the nerve to get offended when you tell them, "TURN AROUND FOOL!! U GOIN THE WRONG WAY!!!"

Which leads me to my next point. And I think this is the worst part of all of it. Okay, so the operation is getting botched by a lack of cooperation and coordination and a surplus of headstrong individuals... I might could live with that. But this is the clencher: the "my way or the highway" mentality of these cats!!! Five seconds ago, I presented you with a plan that you said was as dope as the billion-dollar US drug trade. Three seconds ago, you took what I meticulously created and tried to customize it to suit your own purposes. Now, at the last second, you act like you don't want to be involved at ALL?! Just because you can't have your way?!! AWWWW SON!!!

So, that sends me back to the drawing board... with no philosophers this time, because they don't want to be involved if they can't run the sh!t their way. I'm not gonna go through history and talk about how many great ideas fell apart by this same process; it's just too depressing. And it all comes down to the same simple concept: pride. You would think history wouldn't repeat itself so much, but people really are sheep, just like God calls us; we go through life with our heads down, going in the same direction as those who came before us. Wherever the grass grows, we eat ourselves right off a cliff, and if it wasn't for the Shepherd reaching out every now and then with his rod and staff, we'd just be some dead-a$$ sheep.

And this is the heartbreaker: with the philosophers gone, I'm left with the people who don't really understand what's going on; the good-willed, able-bodied, and available. I got people that know me that are down for WHATEVER... even if they don't understand the situation I'm getting into. And I hate that; I don't want anybody to go into anything unawares with me just because they trust me. I'm not going to exploit anybody, feel me?

Still, there's something to be said for the follower. A leader is nothing without followers. By the same token, a leader is nothing with other leaders. And I don't know what it is with philosophers, but somehow their entire existence lies in their ability to point out directions. You might say the same of me except for one thing: whatever I say, I will physically go out and back up with my own muscle, and by myself if necessary. I am both leader and follower; I think, therefore I do. Because the "point" is "change", not interpretation.

SO, you've got the elitist philosophers who must lead; you've got the uninformed masses who must follow. But somewhere in-between, there's got to be the elevated follower, who follows of his own volition due to his understanding of the situation. But, until I can assemble more of the latter, you've got the elevated leader, "philosopher king", who organizes his own plans and ideas and follows them through on the strength of the God he serves with his own hands.





(*Sidenote: This is what I really wanted to express in the Leave Me Alone entry a few days ago. It just wouldn't come out right. Now, perhaps, there's a little more clarity...)

How many heads does it take to screw in a light bulb. Think reeeeal hard... B-J

Digital Memories

God must have given me a photographic memory because He knew it would take the boy this long to buy himself a camera...

I mean, I didn't buy this camera for my own leisure actually; it's for me to capture the ongoings in the community to broadcast for the world to see and such. There's a lot of things that people overlook for whatever reason, and I'm trying to do my part to give them less room to miss what's important.

Still... I have a camera now. I haven't had a camera since... this little blue Mickey Mouse camera that my Godmother bought for me when I was too young to even know how to use it. No more 8mm film; ya'll done got sophisticated on me, using memory cards and stuff, lol.

I don't have a lot of pictures from my life relatively speaking. I have a lot of shots from when I was a child, then a handful from one or two occasions in high school. Pretty much none from college, except somebody else's photo that I forgot to return to them. So yeah... even though this cam is for recording activist exploits, I'm definitely going to save a few personal memories. It's just a cool thing to be able to do, and having something to look at and reflect on will be nice.

Even though cameras have been upgraded over the years, I think they've still maintained their "magic". Cameras are some of the most unique and special instruments I think man will ever create. The sole purpose of a camera is to do one of the least "profitable" tasks in our society; remember things past. Sure, we use them for surveillance and such now. But really, I don't think when the first image was captured that the inventors were considering the spying capabilities of the camera. They were excited that a moment gone by might possibly be made to last forever.

And that significance still remains, in crystal clarity.

I'd be lyin' if I said I wasn't a little geeked about the possibilities. 'Kinda got me feelin' like gettin' out the house more often just to see some action; action that I can take back and show my peeps, that is. I'm sorely tempted to take this lil' gangsta to school with me tomorrow just for kicks and distractions...

But I've got more important things to attend to: 6PM, task force meeting at the Hyde Park Community Center. I'ma be there... when I should be in class. The cam is gonna be ridin' shotgun. And that's how we're doin it!

They Used to Use Darkrooms to Bring Things to Light... B-J

A Writer's Reason

To be honest, I haven't been satisfied with any of the last entries I've written. But I just didn't want to stop writing. I feel something deep within me, and it just seems like I should be able to express it in writing. I've done it many times before, but it seems to get more and more difficult each time I do it.

But the feeling is still here, no doubt about it.

So, why writing? Why do I feel that writing is the only way for me to express it? Well, it's like this...

If I were to make a song about what I feel, only a few people would actually listen; most people don't have the attention spans to do anything but hear the beat. That's what they tell me anyway; I'm not making this up...

If I were to talk to someone... well, the truth is, most people I know aren't good listeners. What is a good listener? It's a person who takes what you say word for word with no agenda of their own distracting them. It's a person who takes you as seriously as they would want you to take them; and believe it or not, there aren't many people who are good at doing that. It's a person who knows how to be the receiving end of the conversation without interjecting their ideas at every interval and throwing you off your train of thought. It's a person who you know is listening because they care about you, not because it's their job, like a therapist...

If I were to paint a picture, everyone would have their own interpretation of that picture, and it would probably be an interpretation based on their own experience moreso than the experience of the artist. Not only that, but one moment doesn't convey quite the meaning of a sequence of events. And if I were to paint a sequence of events, it would take me ten years to finish the thought...

As I'm writing this, I just realized something. Why doesn't the stuff that works for everybody else work for me? It's like, because I know the procedure so well, I'm too aware of the process to let it happen and not feel like I'm faking my way through it. It's like pretending to believe in Santa Claus because your parents get so much pleasure thinking you still believe in him, but you yourself know better and think it's overall stupid...

It's strange, but ya know what I think might actually make me feel better? Instead of me trying to voice myself so much, I think if somebody did this one thing for me, it would help me a lot...

There's something about a female voice that does something awesome to me. A woman with a beautiful voice absolutely destroys me. And it doesn't even hafta be a full-out Broadway singer; I LOVE to hear a vocalist simply croon out a tune; I love to hear a housewife's hum; I love to hear the mere speech of a soft-spoken lady. To have someone who could sing to me every now and then, or who just loves to sing to herself and would let me be around her. That would really send me.

I'm not the club type of person, but I might find myself hitting a jazz club up every now and again, just to escape to my lil singer and such. Or maybe it's time I leave the confines of the crib and my studio mineshaft in search of a young lady to share my time with.

But c'mon... I mean, honestly, I don't wanna stop right now! I've waited so long to get somewhere, ANYWHERE with my efforts, and I'm THERE right now! I don't wanna make time to stop for fear of losing my motivation again. And, in the spirit of what I said a little earlier about faking it, nobody can tell me "you won't lose your motivation"; Experience itself has proven otherwise, so I'm not even gonna pretend you're right about that.

Write-on though; this entry felt a little better I must admit. Until I make time, I'm gonna hafta make do with getting my feelings out here. The grind is all I feel like I'm here for right now, and when I get to the nitz gritz, it'll all be worth it. Heck, maybe by then I'll have earned the right to be serenaded.

That's motivation.

Blog Out B-J

Leave Me Alone! (not exactly... JUST READ!)

Could you imagine... let's see... Imagine you're defusing a bomb, right? You've got 4.5 seconds to decide if you're gonna cut the red wire or the blue wire; one brings instant death, the other saves you and everyone in your near vicinity. You're almost sure which wire does what, but you can't quite remember; it's on the tip of your tongue.

Now imagine, while you're doing all this, that somebody's singing--- let's just say the Barney theme song for effect--- all in ya ear. Yeah... that's how I feel most of the time.

See, it's funny, people always associate me with doing things of a certain caliber. Lemme break it down so you can get a better understanding: anybody that knows me will tell you that I don't f#ck around. About anything. And they love that, because they can count on me like they can't even count on their own government.

'Same time, the reason I'm so consistent and so precise is because I'm so focused. And I mean allll the time. It has nothing to do with if I'm having a good day or a bad day; every day, every moment of the day, my mind is always moving faster than the situation calls for. Why am I this way? Don't even ask; I could give you a million reasons. And not one of these reasons is good enough to convince you to be of the same mind.

A long time ago, I dedicated myself to making the world a better place. And, while most of you reading this may have good intentions for your life as well, I'm willing to bet most of you don't meditate on that day and night. But it's second nature to me; I've wanted to change the world since I was young, and I've always believed it was possible. But I only thought it was possible through a great effort, which I was more than willing to give up.

What I didn't realize was that it might take a little more than one person going berserk to make an impact. And that really really sucks. I promise you, if I could pull off everything on my own, I would.

There was a young lady who came with a homie of mine to my crib once after my mom passed. Later, my homie told me she was concerned about me living in a house by myself like that. And I had another friend who worried about me too; this one also worried about me working myself to death.

It... feels really nice to know anybody even thought twice about me like that. But, for those people who worry about me, I just wanna let you know I'm totally fine in solitude. Being alone is one thing; being lonely another; and another thing still is being alone and lonely in a crowd. And that's me.

It's actually more frustrating for me to be around others most of the time than to be by myself. Around others, it's hard to find anybody compatible with me. I always find myself making the best of people who pick at me (and even though I don't retaliate, that iggs me, because I'm a maaad sensitive cat!), trying to bend others to gimme a hand at accomplishing something that I wanna do but they're really not into, or explaining my eccentricities to someone so they can categorize me for their own satisfaction and convenience.

But like I said, it really means something when I know people think about me every now and then. That person used to be my mom, ya know? She was the one that was most concerned about her boy before she departed. But I dunno, I'm just tired of people most of the time! I mean, most of the time, if something's going wrong with me, there's another person at fault. And I'm just not the type to create conflict unless absolutely necessary; I let people get away with EVERYTHING. So, in my freetime, I simply don't give anybody the opportunity to cross me, feel me?

So, yeah, I'm solo most of the time. Some animals roll in groups, some don't. I'm a don't. I was raised in the country off a dirt road where there was only one family, and that was my family. I used to talk to trees and chill in solitude, with the exception of my baby sis and all. I'm not afraid of darkness, and I'm not afraid of solitude. I think... I think most people who are uncomfortable with solitude are that way because they spent most of their lives around others; it's natural to be sociable. But I spent most of my life frustrated and/or isolated, and I'm accustomed to that. You can literally lock me in a room for a week, and a week later I'll be the same cat you put in there. Cuz hell, I used to lock MYSELF in the room, feel me?

It's really just a dot. I just want those folks that worry about me to know, I'ma be alright. Heck, I AM alright. I'm just an odd cat who's more productive one-on-one than in a group. If you don't believe it, I just did a song and collaborated with myself... 2 times.

Check it out; I think it came out pretty nice, don't you?

Jigabod feat. Battlecataclysmic and Victim Vincent - "Issue"

Yup, beat, and the lyrics for all three verses. Now, if I had collaborated, this song would still be in the works. I wouldn't even bet with you on that because it just wouldn't be fair. But I got the whole shabang done, and I think it's one of my best ever. You shoulda seen me in the studio by myself runnin... okay, that actually wasn't fun because I did hafta run, since nobody was working the computer while I was spitting. But still... it worked out didn't it?

LEAVE ME ALONE B-J

IMPACT

I've waited all my life for a time like this...

The difference between a meteor and a meteorite is which one makes impact. The longer flight is what gives the right for a meteoroid to be deemed meteorite, feel me? And after 10 years of training and focus and honing skill, against the wills and wishes and logics of many, I've finally entered the atmosphere, a meteoroid...

After tomorrow, I'll be a meteorite.

My aunt is worried about me being run outta town for stepping into "their" territory. Personally, I don't care and I can't wait; how many people can say they've earned the right to be hated? That's something special. And after 10 years, I've got nothing left to look forward to but seeing this thing through to the end.

But from where I'm standing, there's no end in sight. Fear begets more fear; action is what begets change.

Why don't I give you a tour of this meteor? It started off small enough, but the problem is it collected debris from this and that for a long, tedious ten years. And, as the meteor gained momentum, the debris that it collected was forcefully compacted into its structure, until the meteor's density was like nothing ever seen. Oh, it ran into its obstructions here and there: large masses that threatened to stop its forward progression or change its course once and for all. But the meteor proved too dense; a fixed force. And obstacles were either deflected or consumed in its wake.

It sounds like I'm bragging sometimes when I talk recently. It's not that at all; I realize that God is responsible for ALL of it. But you've never grinded at one thing for 10 years before; I mean ONE THING. The same vision I have now is the same vision I had back in 1997, and everything I've done between then and now, whether it appeared good or bad to your eyes, has been towards that singular vision. It's not that I feel invincible or unstoppable; it's that I dare anything to try to stop me after 10 years of determination without a hell of a nuclear fallout. That's all I'm saying.

You know how a mother would throw all sense and sensibility aside for the safety of her children? Yeah, I understand the feeling. That's how I feel about this effort. This is my child, maybe the only thing I live for. And all I'm saying is, I dare anything to try to stop me at this point.

I never understood why my attempting to do something good would be met with so much opposition. But for once, understanding is something I can do without. Understand this: tomorrow, I'm hittin' the streets 4 deep. And from that point on, the gears of change will be, in part, subject to the strength of my own hands at the crankshaft. And if nobody else joins me, one way or another, the gears will nevertheless be turned. Why? Because it's time.

But before I go, I'd like to thank God for the help that He has sent to me. You cats know who you are; I appreciate you gettin' my back. I'm at my best, but take some of the pressure off me, and I get nothing but better.

Action Speaks B-J

Try a Lil' Harder...

From the time I was born and began to move forward in life, it felt like the wind was blowing. The other way.

The great irony that I had to learn growning up is that doing what's right and doing what's comfortable raaaaaaaaarely coincide. Like, the direction you're supposed to go in life... chances are you can figure it out by the direction from which the hurricane-force wind is coming.

And the hardest thing for me isn't going against the grain; I've been an outcast for as long as I can remember, so that's natural. What's hard is trying to understand WHY. I mean, this life is full of suffering, that's a biblical given. But, maybe if I put it like this you'll feel where I'm coming from...

Basically, you could say that, in life, the reason we lift 20 pounds is so that we can eventually lift 30 pounds. And 30 so we can lift 40. And 40 so we can lift 50... And 120 so we can lift 130... And 300 so we can lift 450...

But, unless you're a body-builder in a competition, at some point you gotta wonder: what exactly am I getting all this strength FOR?

It's like, asking for patience gives license for your patience to be tested; cuz patience isn't patience without trials and such. Well, when you get strong, it's license for you to hafta endure more hardship, isn't it?

Well, that's a problem. Cuz I've tried to be, and many people consider me, a very strong person all my life. Little did I know that just means I'm gonna hafta do more and more strongness. All my life.

But it's all good. It's just that when people tell me, "Don't worry, it'll make you stronger", that doesn't encourage me anymore; it kinda just lets me know that something bigger and meaner is coming after the current big-and-meanness. Now, if that's something to look forward to, well that's just glittery.

I dunno, it just kinda hit me. For a Christian, we die and go to Heaven; a place where we'll have perfect bodies and never face sin again and be rewarded and all that good stuff. So... all this "strength" that we accumulate... what of it? I mean, does it follow us to the other side? Where, supposedly, it isn't needed?



...However-however, I just had a thought. I'm assuming that life is a continuous journey, which it is. But just because it's continuous doesn't mean there aren't prescribed destinations along the way. So, keeping that in mind, it makes a little more sense to accumulate strength.

If you're meant to be a king, then you hafta accumulate x amount of strength to get you to that point. So, assuming we all have our destinations, it's not strength for strength's sake, but strength for a specific task.

Okey doke; I get it now. In that case, I'll try a lil' harder.

Thanks Lord B-J