keeping up with jones

so the sign is on the fence - "beware of dog" - but you decide to skip your happy a** in there anyway and get fxcked up.
who's fault is that? yours or the dogs?

RIGHT - YOURS!!!

so why can't people carry this same thought into their many relationships (romantic and otherwise)?
three times this week i've been confronted with this issue.
folks have entered into relationships knowing the dog was in the yard - but proceeded anyway.
then when bitten - they blame it on the dog.

(and we're not talking in the sense that "all men are dogs" or any of that off-the-wall bullshit fed to weak women by the scorned masses. we're talking in metaphor)

basically LADIES & gentlemen: when he or she tells you something - listen. if the actions disagree with their words, oh well. LISTEN TO THE WORDS. damn. save us all some time.
trust me: your friends are tired of giving you advice and you not listening.

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every once in a while we must abandon all maturity and make fools of ourselves. at least catch a cartoon from time to time and smile at the unreal world.

i strapped on the rollerblades and hit the venice boardwalk. mostly for cardio but it felt good.
gonna do it often. probably not at venice, though.



if you've been keeping up with me long enough you'll know where i keep God hidden.
he lives where water & sand meet.
trust me. go check him out.

so i went there and i found him, and we spoke and everything is everything he says.
i mean, he doesn't really have a voice, but i imagine he speaks like aquarius rappers or in rhymes like cam'ron.
God is that dude. lol

"i know god personally. in fact, he lets me call him 'me'" - saul williams.

so here is my conversation with god:





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even bentleys get visited by the repo man every now and then.
don't let the reflection of your low self esteem in the door fool you.
okay?

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my cologne - boots - backpack all arrived and i'm hype as FXCK!!!
the cologne smells like god's sweat and the boots are the SHXT!

i wish i could tell you what they were, but after stepping foot on santa monica tonight i see how influential my fashion can be.
LMAO.

feel me?

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felt like posting something old:

six months ago i imagined how your heart would beat when i put my ear there.
this isn't how it's supposed to sound.

i imagined every fifth beat would be skipped - just for the hell of it.
nothing special - except my head fits there - balanced.

at some point slightly after our first spades game (you flipping several cards up as you dealt) i decided i'd find a crack to slip through when you weren't looking.
there are no new year resolutions in this year's journal - on purpose.
i wanted to start this year with no expectations or bars to reach - giving you a head start.

three months ago i figured my head may be too big to fit
so i'd use my hand first.
slow my heart rate to keep the beast from conquering your heart.
i'd get it another way.

the pillow you offer on the cold nights when my apartment becomes too far to drive back to can remain on the bed where i've left several dreams and a few cloud-like configurations.

let's eat whatever it is i cook and discuss sexual partners and why we're each other's exception.
let's kiss between the periods and the first letters.
inhale the rest of my cologne when the commas get to be too much.

"how long you think we can do this?" - you ask.

"until one or the both of us can no longer believe in forever or fiction." - i replied.

you rolled to your stomach and turned your head towards mine: "are you comfortable?"

i remained on my back - staring at the ceiling - silent - knowing your heart was now closer to me: "i'm good"
and i found my side of your bed.

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and on the note that nobody knows who the fxck kanye west is anymore, let me say goodnight and i will think of you all.

i seem to do my best writing when i'm angry or sad.
i'm neither right now.

actually - in real life - i just need a hug.
you ever get that feeling? that feeling like everything is at a standstill and you're not sure what to do, which direction to walk, run or jump, and you look around for some soft chested individual, hoping they'll see the melancholy on your face and offer you a hug.

i need a hug.

and somewhere, laying on a bed with a scooby doo fitted sheet is who i want to hug me.
right now, i'll settle for don julio or jose cuervo and a conversation with my paper towel roll.

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and i think what my summer romance '03 girl said a few months ago is right on the nose:
i've fallen in love so many times with everything unsustainable that what can be great will come with sacrifice.

so i'm learning to sacrifice.
i used to live by the che guevara quote:
"i know how I love you and how much I love you, but I cannot sacrifice my inner freedom for you; it means sacrificing my self, and I am the most important thing in the world, as I have already told you."


but now i'm learning to live differently. i'm doing the unselfish.
the me i am now doesn't know greed as much as he knows sacrifice.
and i've loving that part of me. but honestly, it also scares the shit out of me.
because the folks i used to watch doing this are the same folks who sit miserably at dinner tables in buffets, across from their mate, never saying a word unless it's about the kids.

that won't be me.
i promise.
okay?
i promise.

i sit across from those people, staring in amazement, wondering when they exhausted all possibilities.

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side note: all the birth control pills in the hoods have been swapped for tictacs. BAN ALL PINK AND YELLOW PILLS!
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i spend 10 minutes tonight with my grandmother, discussing lottery tickets, and family members. it was an in and out visit to my hometown & i never go and not see her. she's among my top 5 favorite people.
and now she's part of the reason i need hug, as well.

she's going through the cycle of old age, and memory loss, and so much has changed from the woman i used to wake up to in the living room with a plate of fried eggs, bacon, biscuit, fried apples and apple butter sitting there.
she's the reason i love coffee. i must have been the only 4 year old on the block drinking full cups.
it's amazing i'm as tall as i am.
i love her. but it hurts sometimes to see her now.

so i need a hug.

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i did not like the man part of me was becoming, so i cut his hair and threw away the old clothes.
and the man i am now - i treat him like a partially wanted girlfriend...but i love him just the same.

i think the two of us are waiting on summer. at least spring.
or at least sunday.
i want my spirit back.

there was something about me being an axxhole that excited the world.
they loved to hear me showing up.
this square i've become is just as fun - but not to them.

they lied: you can go back home.

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remember being 9 years old and the lunch tables being integrated.
shxt was so innocent then.
life was easier. lunch money was the hardest thing to come up with.

now we're worried about making rent - bill money - etc.
this is that middle section of life they never teach us about.
that part they leave out in sex education.

i want to go back to the integrated lunch tables and little girls like lashay breckinridge rocking the fat double strand twists on the playground so i could make fun of her. (we became friends in middle school).
i miss learning what "bastard" meant then calling the girl that would later become my good friend a bastard repeatedly until the school had to call her dad to pick her up from school because she was crying to hard. they couldn't do anything to me because i used it in the right context. hahahaha. (8 months ago she killed herself and i miss her)
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and now i'm learning not to act on impulse.
9 months ago if i felt like i needed a hug, i would have went to my secret flight website, booked me a flight to nassau and sat on a beach for 4 days until god spoke a few words through my pen and gave me that moment of clarity.

and in a low rumble beneath the water he'd say:
you can go home now.

and i'd buy some sheep tongue soup and head home.

but now i sit here and write to you.
i let you in.
i do what pee wee herman did in the porn flick theater: i expose myself.
if you're gonna keep up with jones, i want you to know me through and through.
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today: january 29th, 2010: i will be at a happy hour on u street, giving money at the bar that will go toward haiti relief and my liver. supporting both.
come join me.

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and i'm not sure if god will speak to me tonight.
but i will speak to him.

when you have one request of god...what is it that you ask for?

"make me good, god. but not yet."