I don’t mind labels. I actually like them. A label is just a sticker. It can be removed. It can be moved around. It can stay on indefinitely. Labels and categories are only measures of identification. They make things easier to sort through, to know what might occur. A label is not a scarlet letter branded into your flesh, an Auschwitz tattoo pricked into your arm. People get riled up, proclaiming, “I hate labels!” or “Don’t put me in a category.” Bro, you’re a human being, there’s no singular definition. You’re not pigeonholed or limited to just one label for the rest of your life, sister. Only time…
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Post-Racial America? Ha!
Post-Racial America? Ha! I can’t help but scoff at the notion of this term whenever it’s uttered. We live in a post-racial America in the same vein that god exists: it makes for a cool story, bro—something soothing yet entertaining enough to tell the kids while tucking them them in; a story of hope, possible triumph, leaving them with a smile and no ill-thoughts brewing nightmares. But it’s all a fallacy, a charade, smoke & mirrors—as real as having rocks as pets. One should not be a grown adult, experienced in the world and still believe as truth faery tales, crafting organic life and companionship from inanimate objects.…
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disambiguation: black is a color; Black is culture, history, music
I’ve been sitting on this piece for quite some time. It’s witnessed two Black History Months pass by, actually. After the resurgence of racial upheaval and tensions (e.g. Trayvon Martin), racist ideologies and commentary spewed forth, tipped over by yesterday’s Gawker post regarding the outrage of the Hunger Games’ casting of Black folks for—get this—Black characters, a piece indicative of a large slice of mainstream America, its pop culture and racist attitudes, i figured it was about time i published this. Let’s put this out there from the jump: black is a color; Black is an embodiment of culture, of history, of music—a people. Black people: we are…
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stream of consciousness #0015: inspiration is random on-purpose
Inspired by words from another who’ve i’ve never met physically—an online comraderie twittering—writing about a muse never encountered by either of us for she passed away years prior, this is a piece about the purpose of inspiration coming at us sideways in the dark holding a flashlight for the gloomy eyes to see hope. Hopeful for enlightenment, we grope, not quite blind yet possessing almost atrophied optics, around murky caverns searching for an outlet. Almost at wit’s end, we hear a shout as a whisper miles in the distance, hope is still upon is; adrenal gland awakens, legs press on, fingers do the talking—touch a sensation mental more…
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Built my Online Bookshelf Surrounded by Physical Books
Several times over the past couple of years, i decided to migrate … well, more like copy … my physical books to the digital realm while sitting in the library. That is to say, i haven’t purchased or found a free way to have digital copies of the books—only a catalogue. Man, i should’ve just said that from jump. Anyway…I like instant access to knowledge, to lists—which is probably why i love the Interwebs so much: 24/7/365(6). Being able to know what adorns two of my walls is a boon to my sanity. I recently discovered a torn plastic garbage with another bag within of books i’ve had…
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Autodidacticism, hello friend.
People ask questions but rarely seek answers. There’s a timidity when it comes to knowledge. Fear not, it won’t bite. Seeking own knowledge—the path of autodidacticism—will thaw the frozen ascetic within, inflamming a mental tazmanian devil, ready to devour tomes and submerge itself in the wells of experiences. Moving nomadically, each new desire allowed to grow to adolescence, forming relationship after relationship, long-lasting, of course, but some ephemeral, is both the good and bad. Ask not, want not, so the saying goes; yet wants are still present even without vocalizing them. Fear or uncertainty, possibly uncomfortable with inquiry, are the markers that i believe dissuade people from enriching…
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