Hope to have some big news in a few weeks. I’m hyped right now. I really want to tell you, but I gotta wait for the cement to dry.
Pulling for my peoples and the staff at LA Weekly.
Excluding The Mega Late Show appearance, it’s been four weeks since I last posted. Last month I flew home to Orlando, Florida, dolo.
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.
I didn’t want to go the closer it got to leaving. It’s like driving into a storm cloud on a flat plane.
This was my first trip back to the states since 45 got elected.
My first impression was that white people got scarier. They talk a lot without filters. The guilty ones go out of their way to smile at you. It unwinds your screwed face of confusion and fear.
I went to check on my parents. Hurricane Irma hit a few weeks ago. Down the street from our house, the water supposedly went up to the mailboxes. Some houses got raw sewage. Bears, raccoons, and possums are creeping into the surrounding subdivisions, looking for food.
I miss lizards.
Piles of chopped trees lined the neighborhood streets. Broken tree trunks looked like rusted daggers sticking out of the earth.
Our house was still standing. It needs work. It’s never been more of a metaphor for my moms and pops than now.
My folks had just gotten their power back on a week before I got there. Some areas were still waiting in the dark. Pops is 80 years-old. He fucked around and chopped up a fallen tree with a chainsaw.
It was difficult to focus my eyes on my parents. Seeing them like that, cracked me. I wasn’t prepared.
They’re going to do what they’re going to do.
“Hell naw, you know how many sacrifices we made to stay in this house. Them retirement homes ain’t what you think they are,” Pops said.
He had me rolling my eyes up at the oak trees dangling moss. They looked like the Ghost of Christmas past.
“You can die from a lot of things. You can die from frustration.”
I was down there for ten days, always jet lagged. A week and three days is a second when you’re living in multiple times zones. I got there at night when my wife and daughter were eating breakfast.
Found some photos at the crib. I just grabbed these cause it’s my relatives looking fly. I don’t know a lot of their names. Most of these pictures were taken before I was born.
Though it’s really for me and my process, I do appreciate heads reading TMG. Sorry for my absence. Exiled from my own echo chamber, I got in my own way.