Current Mood: Blow Up The Outside World x Soundgarden
It is a bad idea
It is super unsafe
It is terrible for your car
It can lead to death
It can kill others
Between gangsta and redneck
Nothing seems to kill me no matter how hard I try
Nothing is closing my eyes
Nothing can beat me down for your pain or delight
And nothing seems to break me
No matter how hard I fall
Nothing can break me at all
Some days we Porch Monkeys would meet up to just sit around smoking and to shoot the shit
On others, we would go way out in the boonies with our Dubbya Tee friends to go Muddin
Muddin is between a sport and what poor kids did for fun. The goal of the sport is to drive a vehicle through a pit of mud or a track of a set length. In competition, winners are determined by the distance traveled through the pit and some other shit. Fer shits n giggles, the goal was to not shit yer pants while you tried to cover the car in mud and live to talk about it.
I’d skip school with my bff, who got their first gun on their 9th bday, to take a chance with mud. After a good downpour, we’d jump in a truck with good track on the tires (best with extra large lugs) – or not – then hop off a main road to a random dirt road. After revving the engines, driving erratically as fast as you can handle, came time to really fuck shit up. You see the trick with muddin seemed to be pullin the handbrake at just the right moment so the truck flails about as it increases the amount of torque the engine puts out. The mud can fuck up rims and unbalance tires or throw serpentine belts off or clog the radiator… what did we care?
I learned the word “prairie n****r” out there after muddin one of those late afternoons where my bff and I fucked around instead of going to IB Shakespeare or some other gross shit. There were places out there where I was not allowed; others where I could enter but not speak until spoken to. Some feed stores seemed chill, others came with lots of questions to explain my purpose in those neck of the woods. It was supposed to be funny – I was supposed to laugh when people identified me as a “red skin” or other slurs that indicated my ancestors had been defeated by Their great powerful weapons. Unaware then, I learned a lot in those days. Proximity to Blackness or Whiteness was a game which had societal expectations – some real weird shit. Even though I was sometimes told, “You’re different; you’re not really one of those people,” I knew to them I was not their equal. It was always the case that my androgynous n-wordass was cause for their lack of peace or need to rile shit up.
Today I thought about muddin
as I was runnin
middle of fucknowhere
if I was seein shit
Is this real life?
Am I gonna make it?
‘Cause long as I’m alive I’ma live illegal
yall know where I stand
Pero, you know
Today a Ram 1500 carried a buzz-cut light skinned male-passing dude
who scared me back to where the fuck I came
when he pulled a rifle from the back seat
Am I the “wildlife” he seeks to extinguish?
I forgot my way home today
I feared for my life yet again today
because maybe my music was too loud today
or perhaps, because I took up too much public space
I’m at 5’2″ about 150 these days and drive a wagon
I can’t lose too much weight or my “feminine” figure emerges
But I can’t be too heavy cos then I got the body of a young boy
targeted if I’m too Brown-girly or too Black manly
Burrow down in and blow up the outside
Blow up the outside
Blow up the outside world
I saw Chris Cornell solo and as frontman of Audioslave at a Lolapalooza (2005?) once. 3 years ago when I was traveling in Cuba, I learned of Cornell’s death after paying for wifi at the Hotel Nacional de Cuba – only one of my peers had even heard of him and comforted me as I cried there briefly.
is modeled after the concept of Guerrilla Gardening; it’s a middle finger to private property. The act of gardening on land that the gardeners do not have the “legal rights to cultivate” is a direct civic action. In another form, Guerrilla Discourse infiltrates other aspects of [high]society by introducing uncomfortable concepts in various artistic ways. Art that is considered contested or on contested spaces is a form of Guerrilla Discourse (for example, example graffiti). My favorite form happened during an Occupy Department of Education Protest in which a love song was dedicated to the tune of “This Little Light of Mine;” the lyrics were projected on a school that was set to close mid-school-year and the crowd of a few hundred sang along in solidarity holding each other. Another example would be, blaring “offensive” or censored music or speeches loudly over speakers in areas of which is not permitted. The allowedness likert scale ranges from:
FURROWED BROWS > SCOFFS > KAREN COMPLAINS ABOUT IT TO THE ASSOCIATION > FINES > FELONY > PUNISHABLE BY DEATH
Today I decided I’m done with the transactional relationships
all those phony relationships – I’m too old for that shit – I left in the midwest
I been known better, Maya wouldn’t be proud
12 years ago I left Florida at 23 heading to my NYC, to unlearn some of that ign’ant shit my childhood was full of, to learn my pan/sapiosexual, nerdy, fighter self deeper
Every time I go back, I remember
New York City does not let you forget
You must remember your flaws in NYC
To survive you must be cognizant of who the fuck you be
On the corner of 85th and Lexington I first lived as an adult in NYC sharing a very small 2 bedroom/1 bath with a White woman and her Chinese Crested. The apartment was greatly situated between a world where I could get a bacon-egg-n-cheese for $2, 10 plátanos for $1, a pound of fried Chicharrón at Cuchifritos, my nails did or my hair blowed out for ten bucks
and a world where home-delivered laundry was the norm
there were a lot of fancy outdoor cafes, all with Eggs Benedict
$30 brunch with unlimited Mimosas
Today I ponder