I’ve lived in Japan for almost seven years. When you’re the youngest sibling, you get to benefit off of the mistakes that your parents made with their older children. Through watching your family you learn about human behavior. Like search engines and social media, it uses what it knows about you to warp your perspective. Its forever loving, sociopathic, opportunistic, and self-hating. Drama distracts you from revolting against its emotional hypnosis. You have been warned. At home I got a …
Category: Florida
Last month, alone, I flew home to Orlando, Florida. This time, Kantra understood that I was leaving. Haruki was stabbing me with her tears.“I will hang your underwear outside so people will think that you’re still here,” she said.When my bus pulled off Kantra chased after me. Haruki hugged her. Kantra stomped the earth.I didn’t want to go the closer it got to leaving. It’s like driving into a storm cloud on a flat plain. This was my first trip …
I just changed out of a tuxedo from working a banquet at the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art. Mayor Gavin Newsom was having a fundraiser. Ra’s ship was sinking into the pacific. On the hostel’s rooftop, the San Francisco sky looked like bleeding watercolors. Up came Black. “Damn, you summoned the blunt, my nigga,” he said, holding a long cigar full of the Bay’s medicinal heritage. We passed the blunt back and forth then he told me his story. …
Blacks built America’s infrastructure and economy. Nothing will change that fact. Leave them statues alone. They are evidence of how the “victors” intended history to be written. I don’t want to forget that, and I don’t want my child to either. Reproach their significance. The real battleground is our children’s schools. They need to know that the face of horror, which is generally associated with blackness, actually exists in our forefathers. The Amy’s and John’s of America need their perceptions …
“You shut the fuck up and wait,” Tom said, pointing his finger at the driver honking at him from behind. Tom was a big-bellied fat man. A pistol and a pocketknife hung from his waist. Framed by ditches on both sides, Tom and Pops talked from their trucks, blocking the narrow two-lane road. In the back of our van, my middle brother Peter and I were sitting on tomato boxes. “Geeze,” Pete whispered, putting his head between his legs. “The …
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