Saturday, May 15, 2010

my nigga, it all goes back to January 1st, 1998

when i woke up that morning i was a 15-year-old ward of the court, living in a group home. immediately after breakfast i decided "fuck this shit" and started packing my backpack with my personal effects. then i was out like Cool Hand Luke.

problem was, my group home happened to be located in a remote stretch of the Californian Mojave, so i had to follow the drinkin gourd back to civilization.

problem was, it was daytime and i couldn't see the fucking stars.

in this part of the High Desert they farmed ostriches. oh yeah, they say it's just for the dust feathers, the heavily demanded leather, and the beefy richness of the bird's flesh, but you know how birds is descended from dinosaurs right? i believe they're devising a Jurassic apocalypse in the American wilderness, man.

because what is an ostrich if it ain't a modern day raptor, my nigga? them niggas top out at 9 feet, 285 lbs., and run 45 miles per hour, cuz.

and that's what i was faced with. i had stumbled onto one of these ostrich breeding compounds trying to find my way home. just surrounded by dozens (over a hundred!) of these blood thirsty, rock-eating-beak ass monsters.

if i didn't blast my way out i wouldn't be here to type this right now, nigga.

i'm faking jacks. them niggas ran me off the set.

well, i was runnin, they was joggin real leisurely. all at my neck like, HAPPY NEW YEAR NIGGA!

in my dreams i relive that moment, except i'm holdin the spread gun from contra.

i'm a phobe, niggas.

i recently ran into one of the homies from high school, and he hit me up late last night on the messengers like, "yo son, we need to go out to lunch. or dinner."

"yeah, that sounds really swell, my brother. let me just buy a calendar right quick and figure out when i'm free."

cuz was just being friendly and shit. to be fair, i barely hit my homegirls back when they ask to meet up with a nigga either, but this wasn't just my typical asocialization.

homie hit me up today with a text like, "how is your friday???"

i almost hit him back like, "that's personal, my nigga." instead i just ignored that shit.

i'm ashamed of myself.

Friday, April 30, 2010

water bottle at a gun fight

i couldn't hear what was going on. i was listening to jsmooth talk about Nicki Minaj on NPR, headphones turned up, like the aloof ass gangsta i am. this young brother was walking two young sisters across the street, but about halfway through the crosswalk he started exchanging pleasantries with a couple dudes in a sedan waiting to make a left turn.

it seemed like a friendly enough chat. all involved were smiling. the only danger i sensed was the young brother happened to be standing in the middle of an intersection. traffic wasn't going to allow this conversation to continue much longer. thankfully, the young brother made his way to the sidewalk before the red hand stopped flashing, and the dudes in the sedan looked prepared to follow through on their turn signal.

once on the sidewalk, however, the young brother decided to launch his water bottle at the sedan. it playfully bounced off the hood of the car. the driver ducked for a moment, disappearing behind the car door, and popped up to bust a lowercase u-turn that left the car parked sharply at the curb.

there were about a dozen of us waiting for the bus. 11 of us were tightly huddled around the stop sign. one of us, me, stood between the car and the young nigga who shared his water. not wanting to get in the way of a routine stop-and-pop, i jumped my punk ass back, because i wasn't quite ready for today to be the day. the young brother sprinted, doubling back behind the sedan and stood in the middle of the avenue, laughing his ass off from a safe angle that really had me admiring his geometric awareness.

at this point, incoming vehicles came honking, which was enough to get the sedan to pull away from the curb and stop a block ahead. seconds later another car with genuinely friendly passengers pulled up to greet the young brother and assess the situation. at this juncture the sedan fled the scene.

all the while, Nicki was popping that coochie. she popped on a Suzuki. popping it crazy kooky while rocking them Daisy dukies.