Hands on the Wheel at 6:30

Current Mood: Hands On The Wheel x ScHoolboy Q Feat A$AP Rocky

坐 坐好 Zuò zuò hǎo! me dijo la Pachamama.

IMG_20200522_113940(1)Exif_JPEG_420

A few days ago I was toying with the idea of wearing fishnets again – I was feeling good about losing weight and being stronger than I was 5 years ago when I began PhD studies. On the afternoon of the 23rd, I was put in my place tho. “Stay the fuck home” was the message I received, “get your shit done” before you go out to play!” I am fortunate to have been able to afford car payments up until now and having the liberty to drive out at my whims. Now I’m confined to crutches for 12 more days on antibiotics and pain meds after getting stitched up with a deep dirty cut on my left pinky toe from a rock off the Sunshine Skyway Bridge, where I’d gone to write and for inspiration.Exif_JPEG_420

She’d been telling me to stay put

pero no le hice caso

Abrazos to all of you who are feeling out of balance, overwhelmed, fatigued, daunted.

We are strong and we can stay strong.

 

The first injuries to my legs that I recall happened during basketball – marks on my knees remain from grade school. Around 5th grade, we cared after a lab for a while for a paternal cousin. Blackie, the dog and I were playing at one point and then there was a chase. I managed to jump our fence and left my leg was slit open by a sheet of metal sitting at the corner of the fence and our Sanford home. I remember seeing bone for a bit.

Just between jobs, the summer of 2013, with no insurance, at 28, I suffered a debilitating accident just months after a smaller accident where a bus side-swiped me (on bike) into a fence – I had a just a few scratches from that. From Xuhui to Jing’an and back, my newest friend helped me move – carrying bags of my stuff on bike – about 30km. He got tired, naturally so, and I wanted to be done so I ventured off alone (as per my usual) for the last of my crap. On the return, I was t-boned by a moped on a corner of nowhere I knew well (near the cafe 1984, I think). No one helped as I lay on the ground, my left leg bleeding profusely and my arm. Hobbling with my shit, I made my way into a Chinese version of bodega to ask for help with the handful of Mandarin words and phrases I know. 耐心 Nàixīn, me dije. Only three broken toes (including my currently injured baby toe) happened and I was lucky to find a store-keeper who helped clean and bandaged me up. I had a limp after that!

Too damn high, can’t stand myself
I love drunk driving, man I’m something else
Heat on my side, you’re more than welcome to melt
I’m ’bout to finish a pound, you’re more welcome to help

The next serious injuries I remember today happened with Ultimate Frisbee and rock climbing. Always on my left side, I’d fall and get ugly bruises. During a particularly stupid idea, a group of us got together in the middle of a 2015 Michigan winter to toss a disc. During one bad move, I slipped on the ice and went home with an aching hip which turned bluish black and brought my limp back.

On 2 July 2016 I was heading to Chicago with the WT I was dating then. The light at the Howard Ave and Saginaw St intersection just before the 127 turned green and the two cars in front of me went through before a 25 year old White girl driving a car registered and insured to someone else ran a red light and totaled my 2013 Nissan Sentra. A bag of cannabis was found in her car and the insurance status was “delinquency” due to missed payments. Her tears just got her a tiny ticket for running the light – no arrest or fines for weed.

A new kind of poverty came directly from this accident and new/old wounds emerged. I suffered burns and lacerations around my body additional to huge financial debt due to the state’s absurd No Fault logic. I often wondered what would have happened, if the situation was reversed. Would my tears have warranted mercy as well? Would I have been arrested or shot by the popo when they found “drugs” or when they learned the car was not mine? We know rules were made and often only apply to Black and Brown bodies. Ain’t nobody hiding this.

My usual right hand at 6:30 and left on my lap, possibly saved bones from breaking. The U.S. standard instruction was that drivers should hold the steering wheel at the 10 and 2 positions, as envisioned on a clock. Now “experts” say that could cost you your arms or hands in particularly gruesome ways if your airbag deploys. Most driving guidelines (most state transportation agencies) now say “lightly grip the wheel at the 9 and 3 o’clock position.” Bad science makes illogical rules that are followed by the masses who have been trained to not question authority.

Think for yourself.

Question authority.

was already my motto when I began driving 20 years ago at 15 I observed the people around me first. I think I was impacted by the way my brother and a friend Canela drove keeping their hand a 6:30. It felt comfortable immediately so I’ve driven variations of this since.

I’m okay with disorder and or chaos if it is naturally the case. I dislike the chaos imposed on me of deadlines, time constructs, forced relationships, fake smiling, arbitrary rules proven wrong, ineffective and inhumane again and again.

I do not want suburban life. I like my lawn unkempt. I don’t give a fuck if you call me uncouth. I do not want 2.5 children in your schools; I’m not even sure I want one. Home or Land ownership is not something I even think about, on principle. This Land is my Land, this Land ain’t your Land…

I do not have the impulse to organize everything in palatable boxes, multiple choice answers, color-by-number/paint by wine nights, true/false or any binary paradigms

You cannot convince me that your way of living is beneficial to/for anyone.

I refuse to follow your rules. Of course, that is particularly why I am endangered.

There is not a word or concept in my culture like the German:

scha·den·freu·de (n)
/ˈSHädənˌfroidə/
  1. pleasure derived by someone from another person’s misfortune.

or the Brittish:

epicaricacy (n) (uncountable) (rare) Rejoicing at or deriving pleasure from the misfortunes of other

Tattletale (Flemmish roots) express to me that ^ mentality, which is fostered in grade school… that research will come later.

This is what is lives inside the Becky > Karen > Susan teachers we’ve all had.

Papi and I discussed language recently, starting with that German concept, doin like an onto-epistemological turn here and there. I wanna learn more how language is shaped by Land (like how some concepts exist here and not there). Also how our senses are shaped by and shape language. My makers don’t usually like to admit it but my creative insubordination is all them. Nil sine magno labore. Don’t speak unless you can improve the silence. No seas metiche.

This is why I write
on most days
to understand how to enrich our collective lives

Am I over-faded? Hell yeah it’s true
Turn a beat on, ain’t no limit to what I can do
See this Top Dawg in heat, but I’mma fuck the world
I’mma be on tunes ’til God re-furls
You sat me down, I’m still tryna get higher
You looked at me stupid when I twisted the fire

This keeps me AFLOAT: The Myth and Propaganda of Black Buying Power

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