politics.. it all comes down to politics, he tells me. right down to where you go to the bath room... he is referring to prison but i see the correlation and add the same is true in dating. we joke, and laugh, about that awkward place where you try to read the other person before you fall too deep or, in his case, get the shit kicked out of you. and, well, to me.. it's all the same really...

he's twenty-three but he looks seventeen. i'm twenty-eight but he thinks i'm twenty. we laugh about that entirely. guess we're doing something right. funny because neither of us has come from an easy life. youth, that ellusive quality that so many pay thousands to achieve/mimic every year, that we can't seem to chase a way. and, we wish we could, because both of us are tired of people thinking we're young. both of us have scrapped for our survival for as far back as we can remember, never staying in one place for more than a year or two, learning and growing and simply trying to keep those heads above water. we laugh at it as we sit in the harbor.

eight fifty he tells me is the cost for his rent in the ghetto. not much, he feels, for his one bedroom apartment that he fears leaving at night. but, it's only a ten minute walk from the water, so it must be worth something. he struggles to make money while he hangs marketing flyers for large corporations, like Sears, he tells me. Sears.. i didn't even know that place still existed.

he gets to travel around all the major cities here, which he loves. meets a lot of interesting people from all over, like me.. i laugh because i have nothing to say to him. he asks me what i like to do for fun, three times even, and all i can come up with is walk, write and listen to music. he's the first person i've had an actual conversation with all day.. and, even then, it's trying.

i like to chat, he tells me. which also makes me laugh... for, in truth, it's him that's doing the talking. and, if i've realized any thing in this life, it's that all we really are is our projections. so often people tell me things like this as i listen quietly, understanding completely who they are and how they think while, truthfully, they know very little about me.

but, in truth, there is all so very little to me. i was honest when i said that for fun all i do is write and walk and listen to music. i have engaged in so much dialogue in this life that this morning i was tempted to take a vow of silence for years to come. but, i could never make money doing that, and money seems to be that thing we all need on this planet.

and, when did a world full of resource become a struggle for richness? who decided that one because it's fucking ridiculous. let's fight and kill over something we can walk out of a hut and grab.. yeah, that makes sense.

so, i contemplate doing porn, because if i let some guy cum on my face for thirty minutes i can make at least five hundred bucks. and, with a shower, it's all done. and, who am i to judge who gets off on what? i don't give a shit what any one thinks about me so i think : why the hell not?

and these are the reasons there are large amounts of us who turn to the hustle. this kid, he's been in prison twice now.. still got that cherry face tho so i guess it doesn't matter. he'll get me an eighth for thirty bucks if i want it. wont take any of it either! i pass on that one.

he tries to get smooth on the bench so i recommend we continue walking. he laughs at some point about the blade i have hanging from my pocket but it causes me to never have to defend my self. and, i'm pretty sure he knows that one.

i might not do too many things for fun these days and i may cherish my solitude a little too much but, every where i go, i have my head up and i look at these passers by straight in the eye. which, truthfully, is what got his attention. one of the only blacks in this area it stood out that i did and caused him to say hello and ask my name. assumes i have experience with 'the brotherhood' because i never coward away. i laugh. i told him if i've learned any thing in this life it's only to keep an open mind. he liked that one.

so, nickle and dime, spit and crime, who knows what will come of this one. i'm tired of society and our inflatted arrogance that leaves us empty and heart less. i sit in StarBucks to suck up this free internet as everyone works and laughs and socializes a round me in, yet another, wealthy city. and, who are we to be sitting on our asses? and, who am i to be writing about it? i'm just as guilty as the next party, i too painfully realize. what's the point of any of this, really, i can't help but ask my self repeatedly.

i came here on a mission to save the world and wonder if it's even worth saving now. are we so far down the rabbit hole that there's no turning back now? how could i ever hope to convince a majority that they don't need their pin stripe suits and leather shoes? i'll tell you some thing... the more i travel the more i do wonder if that is even possible..

in jux ta position, just the other night i dined in a home that is facing a foreclosure. they were lovely people, and i enjoyed their company and hospitality so very much, but i could not help but notice that room after room was filled with.. junk. junk that they had probably spent a fortune on, too. junk they would never sell or get rid of, either, even if it costs them their home. and, this is the opposite problem in our society... the hoarding that comes after years of deprivation.. just another piece to this puzzle.

some times i wish i could turn the brilliance off. i understand why so many are drug addicts. this morning i contemplated how easy it would be to pop a pill for all this anger and confusion i feel. then i could be a good minion and work my soul a way. and, may be that's the hard truth i'm facing.. that truly, the human life now is no thing more than a commodity and success comes to those who are the highest bidders. and, all i can say is : fuck that life.

so, may be i will let some stranger cum on my face for that cash. it sure would be handy.. and, besides, i never liked being pretty any way.

later, babes.
MI