Last week I went on a short vacation to visit family and old friends on the left coast. It had been several months since last I'd seen anyone from my old stomping grounds so I was anticipating a trip full of spontaneous gatherings, excessive photos, and generally good vibes. For the most part that is what I got. There were a few exceptions including an awkward day with Waru (more on that later), but by my last day in Cali, I had escaped any large scale drama and thought I was going to be able to leave with a pocket full of joy. Enter my sister, Pandora.
Pandora doesn't always intend to cause trouble, but as her name impies, it usually follows her whether she wants it to or not and this vacation (unfortunately) didn't end up being an exception. BUt, I get ahead of myself.
On my last night I was planning on a nice night with the women in my family; my mom Isis, my youngest sister Confusion, Pandora, and I were all going to be home for dinner. My brother's Blackbird and Bigger couldn't make it do to some obligations they couldn't get out of, but I'd spoken with both of them earlier that trip and it was all good. (Look for a future post for explanations to the family's psuedonyms). All in all, it was shaping up to be a nice farewell dinner until Pandora thought that this would be a perfect to time to invite my father Red.
Now, one of my New Year's resolutions this year was to reconnect with one person that has drifted out of my life every month. It could be someone I got into a fight with and never forgave, a friend who moved away that I don't get to see regularly, or that old mentor that used to inspire me that I kept meaning to write. It seemed like a relatively simple task, but karma consulted with fate and decided to throw me a curve ball. I didn't anticipate Red making it to this list.
My father and I have neither spoken nor seen each other in 6 years. Pretty much the entire time I have lived on the east coast he has been nothing more than a ghost. Ever since he and Isis got divorced when I was a little kid, he has not been actively involved in my life. Only slipping in and out, sometimes with years in between. In the last year or two however, he has been trying to reconnect with me and my siblings.
Personally I stopped looking for a father figure a long time ago and came to resent the notion that I should have to make room for him in my life when he felt it was important. My mom and Pandora have both been advocates of me establishing a relationship with him, but everytime I asked them (and myself) why should I, all I got was blank stares and vague comments that he is my father and that is reason enough.
I am not sorry to say that I harbor a mix of ambivalence and anger. The man fucked up and instead of being there for me when I really did need him, he disappeared. I do not feel like I owe him a damn thing. Some may say this is a selfish stance, but fuck it. He was pretty damn selfish when he walked away from his family too. All I am doing is serving as an agent of karma.
I still remember very vividly the last time I saw him before he went on his first hiatus. Me and Pandora were maybe 10 and 11 years old respectively and we were waiting outside on my front porch for him to pick us up. In those days I used to worship that man and was a daddy's boy through and through. Bags packed two nights before, me and Pandora waited on the porch with great anticipation.
We waited all that morning, skipping breakfast because we didn't want to be running late when he showed up.
We waited into the warm afternoon and started to pick through the snacks my mom had packed for us to take over to his house. Neither of us wanted to leave the porch in case he'd gotten lost and couldn't remember which house was ours.
We waited as the warmth of the day faded into the creeping chill of the evening. My sister started to shiver a bit, her jacket in the house (why would we need to wear our jackets during the day), so I draped my arm around her to warm her up.
I could hear my mother at the door looking out on us huddled on the porch steps. I turned back to face her as she began to speak and the words dried up in her mouth. She looked at us in silence and turned away, returning a few moments later with a blanket.
We waited until the street lights came on and my sister gave into the rumble in her stomach and went into the house to grab leftovers.
We became I and still I waited.
Little did I know that I would have to wait for years to come. Wait for the excuse, the apology, the visit, the call, the letter. Something, anything to explain why.
I waited for years until I forgot why I was waiting. The image of the man everyone said I resembled began to blur around the edges and I went back into the house, to the people who loved me and didn't make me wait in the dark.
Pandora didn't mean to bring trouble in her wake and perhaps her forced encounter with Red will lead to a reconciliation in the future. For now, he can take my place on the porch; I am already home and am done waiting for a ride to see the people I love.
24 January 2010
Echoes: Verse 1, Rory Buchanan.
So, I have decided to officially launch a new feature on the blog that I am going to call "Echoes". Echoes will be poetry and short story posting from friends and artist I admire and think that the rest of the world need to encounter. I have done a few of these in the past but I want to provide the feature with a little more structure.
Here is the plan. Once a week I am going to feature an artist. I will give a little biographical information and post one of their works that speaks to me. Please feel free to send me recommendations of people you think I should add to the list.
Daddy Lied
by Rory Buchanan
my daddy taught me
i must be perfect
i was weak if i cried
i had to know everything
that feelings only get in my way
my daddy told me
whie men don't like me
then he drank until I knew
he didn't like himself eiher
my daddy pushed me
to be better than everyone else
forgetting to tell me
i could set my own standards
instead of working toward theirs
my daddy talked to me
but never told me how he felt
never seemed to care what I felt
he only talked about what interested him
and told me to look the rest up in a book
my daddy showed me
that being a man meant being aloof
catering to white man dreams
raising kids that didn't understand you
until they were thirty
and then didn't want to
m daddy lied to me
but i forgive him
he lied to himself too
his daddy taught him how
Rory Buchanan is thirty-four years old and lives in Brooklyn, New York with his sixteen-year-old son. His work has appeared in Pyramid Periodical. He is an AIDS educator with the Minority Task Force on AIDS in New York City.
Here is the plan. Once a week I am going to feature an artist. I will give a little biographical information and post one of their works that speaks to me. Please feel free to send me recommendations of people you think I should add to the list.
Daddy Lied
by Rory Buchanan
my daddy taught me
i must be perfect
i was weak if i cried
i had to know everything
that feelings only get in my way
my daddy told me
whie men don't like me
then he drank until I knew
he didn't like himself eiher
my daddy pushed me
to be better than everyone else
forgetting to tell me
i could set my own standards
instead of working toward theirs
my daddy talked to me
but never told me how he felt
never seemed to care what I felt
he only talked about what interested him
and told me to look the rest up in a book
my daddy showed me
that being a man meant being aloof
catering to white man dreams
raising kids that didn't understand you
until they were thirty
and then didn't want to
m daddy lied to me
but i forgive him
he lied to himself too
his daddy taught him how
Rory Buchanan is thirty-four years old and lives in Brooklyn, New York with his sixteen-year-old son. His work has appeared in Pyramid Periodical. He is an AIDS educator with the Minority Task Force on AIDS in New York City.
04 January 2010
Empty Rooms
Some time ago a friend of mine wrote a short vignette and sent it my way. This is my response to it. I haven't seen her in a while, but thought I would post the vignette I wrote in response to her. It's been too long since we traded words.
I come with the night, and sow doubt in your dreams, seeds pregnant with need and desire. Buried beneath the frost bitten grave that stands in memorial of our tryst, I summon cold winds to drape your unclothed feet so they can do not but trot the numbness that engulfs me.
You are the eyes that bare witness to my folly, doomed to hold within your vision alone that which can never be graced by the hands of man or fate—the honeyed fig that holds within it the Friar’s last gift to stars that remain crossed even as they fall from Grace. The taste of temptation lingers in the vibrations of my voice even as it rings in your ear, echoing the sound born as I crash upon the shores of truth. The fine grains there to slick to retain my essence, I fall victim time and time again to the whims of Artemis as she flees the footsteps of her brother, falling into a steady rhythm poised to swallow you in my wake.
Your eyes stand closed in anticipation of half wished release, poised between hope and fear, held taunt till muscles knot and skin quivers. From the depths of the sea I call you, igniting the wicker at your core and spreading heat that makes flesh melt like the wax of a thousand candles. No longer a steady pulse of unrealized want, now the steady sizzle of hot oils licking the surface of cold steel.
I step from your shadow swabbed in crimson and spice, yet your eyes see nothing but a ghost reflected in the polished surface of the oak.
Shade I have become in the days since the stars left their home and settled in the earth wrapped in cellophane. I stood to catch them but instead was caught and bound to this state of stasis perpetuated by cold indifference. Bile settles on my tongue as I turn to you and cry but find my voice stolen, my tongue turned to stone and settled on my shoulder to torment me for my crimes. My tears in turn rusting the twisted barrier that marks the boundaries of my prison. I once slick smile following my mind out of reality into madness.
The night has become my home. The rains are my only companion in this dark dwelling between your door and your light switch. Dark laughter cascades amongst the broken remains of our once treasured heirlooms, stars that have all but lost their light. Sickly light surrounded by dark and uncertain waters that I now call home. I come to you begging for light and the keys to my prison, for all I am able to offer is soggy match and keys corroded by the passage of time. I whisper to you in the dark, but you are afraid to traverse what was once familiar territory, but has now become a death trap of broken glass, broken furniture, and the scent of stale smoke which has become the essence of my being.
With the coming dawn I settle back into the deep, slipping back beneath the waves and into the steady rhythm that marks my battle with the shore that cannot contain my essence. I bow my head in silent prayer, hoping my seeds take root like vines in the stonewalls of your heart and spread through the delicate byways of your blood, giving life to succulent roses, that will cushion your feet from the broken glass left behind from my hasty retreat, and wipe the blood from your still lips.
I loved you.
Empty Rooms
I come with the night, and sow doubt in your dreams, seeds pregnant with need and desire. Buried beneath the frost bitten grave that stands in memorial of our tryst, I summon cold winds to drape your unclothed feet so they can do not but trot the numbness that engulfs me.
You are the eyes that bare witness to my folly, doomed to hold within your vision alone that which can never be graced by the hands of man or fate—the honeyed fig that holds within it the Friar’s last gift to stars that remain crossed even as they fall from Grace. The taste of temptation lingers in the vibrations of my voice even as it rings in your ear, echoing the sound born as I crash upon the shores of truth. The fine grains there to slick to retain my essence, I fall victim time and time again to the whims of Artemis as she flees the footsteps of her brother, falling into a steady rhythm poised to swallow you in my wake.
Your eyes stand closed in anticipation of half wished release, poised between hope and fear, held taunt till muscles knot and skin quivers. From the depths of the sea I call you, igniting the wicker at your core and spreading heat that makes flesh melt like the wax of a thousand candles. No longer a steady pulse of unrealized want, now the steady sizzle of hot oils licking the surface of cold steel.
I step from your shadow swabbed in crimson and spice, yet your eyes see nothing but a ghost reflected in the polished surface of the oak.
Shade I have become in the days since the stars left their home and settled in the earth wrapped in cellophane. I stood to catch them but instead was caught and bound to this state of stasis perpetuated by cold indifference. Bile settles on my tongue as I turn to you and cry but find my voice stolen, my tongue turned to stone and settled on my shoulder to torment me for my crimes. My tears in turn rusting the twisted barrier that marks the boundaries of my prison. I once slick smile following my mind out of reality into madness.
The night has become my home. The rains are my only companion in this dark dwelling between your door and your light switch. Dark laughter cascades amongst the broken remains of our once treasured heirlooms, stars that have all but lost their light. Sickly light surrounded by dark and uncertain waters that I now call home. I come to you begging for light and the keys to my prison, for all I am able to offer is soggy match and keys corroded by the passage of time. I whisper to you in the dark, but you are afraid to traverse what was once familiar territory, but has now become a death trap of broken glass, broken furniture, and the scent of stale smoke which has become the essence of my being.
With the coming dawn I settle back into the deep, slipping back beneath the waves and into the steady rhythm that marks my battle with the shore that cannot contain my essence. I bow my head in silent prayer, hoping my seeds take root like vines in the stonewalls of your heart and spread through the delicate byways of your blood, giving life to succulent roses, that will cushion your feet from the broken glass left behind from my hasty retreat, and wipe the blood from your still lips.
I loved you.
02 January 2010
Re-dedication
Well it has been some time since last I even looked at this page. I started it after graduating college with the hopes of using it to chronicle my thoughts during the first year of me being a “real adult”. From the sporadic writing and long absence, I think it is easy to see that I wasn’t the most successful at it. But another year has come and gone and like most I have laid a laundry list of goals and self imposed trials to help me start the new decade off right. One of those resolutions was to do a better job about writing every day. Whether it be a short poem, an article, or just random rambling. I have let the job I took to pay the bills and support my artistic endeavors supercede my creative output and damn it if it isn’t about time I found a little more balance.
Now, I won’t lie and say that I will write everyday, but I am going to try and take the time to share a little more regularly. (Even if all I am doing is talking to myself).
So for now, I leave you with a poem that I think should be at the forefront of folks minds this year.
“Brothers loving brothers”
by Vega
Respect yourself, my brother,
for we are so many wondrous things.
Like a black rose,
you are a rarity to be found.
Our leaves intertwine as I reach out to you
after the release of a gentle rain.
You precious gem,
black pearl that warms the heart,
symbol of ageless wisdom,
I derive strength
from the touch of your hand.
Our lives blend together
like rays of light;
we are men of color
adorned in shades of tan, red,
beige, black, brown.
Brothers born from the same earth womb.
Brothers reaching for the same star.
Love me as your equal.
Love me, brother to brother.
Now, I won’t lie and say that I will write everyday, but I am going to try and take the time to share a little more regularly. (Even if all I am doing is talking to myself).
So for now, I leave you with a poem that I think should be at the forefront of folks minds this year.
“Brothers loving brothers”
by Vega
Respect yourself, my brother,
for we are so many wondrous things.
Like a black rose,
you are a rarity to be found.
Our leaves intertwine as I reach out to you
after the release of a gentle rain.
You precious gem,
black pearl that warms the heart,
symbol of ageless wisdom,
I derive strength
from the touch of your hand.
Our lives blend together
like rays of light;
we are men of color
adorned in shades of tan, red,
beige, black, brown.
Brothers born from the same earth womb.
Brothers reaching for the same star.
Love me as your equal.
Love me, brother to brother.
20 August 2009
I don't even know where to start it has been so long. I started this blog a year ago when it was the trendy thing to do and although it started off kind of fresh you can see from my lack of entries that the experience grew a little stale.
The past year has been an interesting one to say the least. As seems to always be the case, it was a year full of life lessons I would rather have read about than have experienced, but we must all bow to the will of the Higher Powers. Too much has happened to change me and reshape me in the last year for me to capture it all in one entry, so I wont try. Instead, I think I will take some time over the next few days to go over the biggest moments. For now, I think I will step off the stage to give Mahlik a moment to share his thoughts on civic engagement in the new millennium.
For now peace.
- I.M.
As I was doing my daily scan of the latest issus making their rounds through the blogsphere something struck a cord. That something was the wise words from my girl Shark-Fu over at AngryBlackBitch. Now don't let the name fool ya into underestimating this one, she is on point and her latest two cents was on the new health care reform bil and more importantly the bullshit circus that has cropped up around it.
First off, let us a take a moment to reflect on the fact that the US has only now decided it might be in the best interest of the American people to invest in the creation of some sort of nationalized health care system.
,,,really?
I mean don't we want to hang on to or proud status as the only liberal democracy in the WORLD without some form of a national health care program.
Now my main issue here is not to talk shit about how long it has taken our lawmakers to conclude that maybe we should find a way to provide better and more coverage for our citizens. Nor do I wish to talk shit about those people who have legitimate concerns about how the policy with take shape, be funded, and be regulated. These areall valid concerns. What the real problem as Shark-fu identified is that the, the people with legitiimate concerns are being drowned out by the angry and often irrational crowds that have flocked to protest at the Town HALL meetings being held around the country. I find that the peope with concerns who are not trying to get involved in the issue to be far more offensive than the misguided souls who are angry without a real understanding of what is at stake.
Now you might want to suggest I am being an uppity Negro, but the point is that the last decade we have had an opportunity to exercise our collective power to demonstrate our deep desire for better conduct from our elected officials and have done jack shit outside of electing ourselves a Black Man as president and patting ourselves on the back for demonstrating how post racial we all are...excuse me.
Fuck all that noise and let's have real talk. As a citizen you have not only the option but the duty to do more than vote. Our access points to the political landscape are not confined to the ballot box. Go to meetings. Write/call your representatives. We need to use the system instead of letting the system fuck us and saying thank you for the molestation of our rights. Whether you agree with reform or not, stop sitting on your ass and lets have a national debate about this shit instead of trying to find ways to gain political points and demonizr the "socialist lefties" for trying to find a way to provide care for the thousands of uninsured people living in America today.
Fuck that false sense of accoplishment. Here is an aidea, how about we stop pretending everything is fine and acually find away to make this shit happen.
- Mahlik
The past year has been an interesting one to say the least. As seems to always be the case, it was a year full of life lessons I would rather have read about than have experienced, but we must all bow to the will of the Higher Powers. Too much has happened to change me and reshape me in the last year for me to capture it all in one entry, so I wont try. Instead, I think I will take some time over the next few days to go over the biggest moments. For now, I think I will step off the stage to give Mahlik a moment to share his thoughts on civic engagement in the new millennium.
For now peace.
- I.M.
As I was doing my daily scan of the latest issus making their rounds through the blogsphere something struck a cord. That something was the wise words from my girl Shark-Fu over at AngryBlackBitch. Now don't let the name fool ya into underestimating this one, she is on point and her latest two cents was on the new health care reform bil and more importantly the bullshit circus that has cropped up around it.
First off, let us a take a moment to reflect on the fact that the US has only now decided it might be in the best interest of the American people to invest in the creation of some sort of nationalized health care system.
,,,really?
I mean don't we want to hang on to or proud status as the only liberal democracy in the WORLD without some form of a national health care program.
Now my main issue here is not to talk shit about how long it has taken our lawmakers to conclude that maybe we should find a way to provide better and more coverage for our citizens. Nor do I wish to talk shit about those people who have legitimate concerns about how the policy with take shape, be funded, and be regulated. These areall valid concerns. What the real problem as Shark-fu identified is that the, the people with legitiimate concerns are being drowned out by the angry and often irrational crowds that have flocked to protest at the Town HALL meetings being held around the country. I find that the peope with concerns who are not trying to get involved in the issue to be far more offensive than the misguided souls who are angry without a real understanding of what is at stake.
Now you might want to suggest I am being an uppity Negro, but the point is that the last decade we have had an opportunity to exercise our collective power to demonstrate our deep desire for better conduct from our elected officials and have done jack shit outside of electing ourselves a Black Man as president and patting ourselves on the back for demonstrating how post racial we all are...excuse me.
Fuck all that noise and let's have real talk. As a citizen you have not only the option but the duty to do more than vote. Our access points to the political landscape are not confined to the ballot box. Go to meetings. Write/call your representatives. We need to use the system instead of letting the system fuck us and saying thank you for the molestation of our rights. Whether you agree with reform or not, stop sitting on your ass and lets have a national debate about this shit instead of trying to find ways to gain political points and demonizr the "socialist lefties" for trying to find a way to provide care for the thousands of uninsured people living in America today.
Fuck that false sense of accoplishment. Here is an aidea, how about we stop pretending everything is fine and acually find away to make this shit happen.
- Mahlik
17 June 2008
Letter from the Maestro
I just finished up my last show of the year and Maestro has a few words so I am going to give him the floor.
Fuck haters. If you aren't a triple threat don't just hate on someone who is, get off your ass and work on your skills. And to any and all who who tried to throw Golden Boy status on me, you can kiss the tips of my locks and bow down. Despite commentary from the reincarnation of Countee Cullen (let's call him Cee-Cee for short) I was not the self-obsessed performer you would like me to be so you can feel justified in your jealousy. I am just a good performer something you should recognize since your such a good one too. The only difference between the two of us is that I prefer to limit my acting to the stage and not extend it to my life beyond the proscenium. Your lucky I am the one talking because we all know Mercutio has a whole lotta other shit to say about Cee-Cee. I will say this much though, despite all the tension behind closed doors, we did manage to put on a good show. I guess drama is an expected side effect of working in the arts.
Now that Maestro has gotten some stuff of his chest there has been some good news. One of the FATES came to visit this weekend with another close friends, Bella, came through as well. It was good timing as you can tell because a couple of the voices were starting to get a little pissed off. As always they brought a little sun and fun into my life and I am planning on seeing them again real soon.
ROAD TRIP...but first, I gotta get paid.
Fuck haters. If you aren't a triple threat don't just hate on someone who is, get off your ass and work on your skills. And to any and all who who tried to throw Golden Boy status on me, you can kiss the tips of my locks and bow down. Despite commentary from the reincarnation of Countee Cullen (let's call him Cee-Cee for short) I was not the self-obsessed performer you would like me to be so you can feel justified in your jealousy. I am just a good performer something you should recognize since your such a good one too. The only difference between the two of us is that I prefer to limit my acting to the stage and not extend it to my life beyond the proscenium. Your lucky I am the one talking because we all know Mercutio has a whole lotta other shit to say about Cee-Cee. I will say this much though, despite all the tension behind closed doors, we did manage to put on a good show. I guess drama is an expected side effect of working in the arts.
Now that Maestro has gotten some stuff of his chest there has been some good news. One of the FATES came to visit this weekend with another close friends, Bella, came through as well. It was good timing as you can tell because a couple of the voices were starting to get a little pissed off. As always they brought a little sun and fun into my life and I am planning on seeing them again real soon.
ROAD TRIP...but first, I gotta get paid.
08 June 2008
Talking to the Moon
Growing up isn't easy. It sounds like a cliche until you are actually going through it and that shit hits you like a ton of bricks. All I know is that the last few years have not been the easiest for me (but who ever said life was easy right?) but even with all the crap I am still here; breathing and making it more or less mostly due to help of some folks close to my heart.
There are three women who have strangely enough have become like the FATES to me, although they aren't really connected to each except through me. I met them at different places and different times, but each one of them has brought her own special brand of balance to my life. Let's call them Star, World, and Moon. (More on each later, I promise).
Anyway I talked to the Moon today for the first time in a long time and she told me some things that got me thinking.
I am originally a Cali Boy but have been kind of nomadic for a while. Moon has known me the longest of the FATES so she knows all about me back when the West Coast was all I knew. She also knew me when I was struggling to figure out who my real friends are (still working on that one.) There has been one friend in particular that I have been stuck trying to figure out for a long time now: Waru.
Waru and Moon used to be good friends too, so she has a good perspective on things. Since I was going through this whole "who really is worth keeping" thing on top of being the victim of some serious backstabbing...I was on the look out for a new best friend. Now me and Waru were old friends. Not the best of friends, but I thought pretty good. So I thought he would be the perfect replacement. Yeah I know dumb right.
So I tried to force our friendship and now later I have realized that it may not have been a good idea. Moon happened to run into Waru and she found out some interesting things about his perspective on the issue. To sum it up he felt like I was trying to push him to be like family and in al honesty he has a huge phobia of relationship of any kind, romantic and platonic.
Moon had tried to set me straight from the jump, but I was stubborn to be real...lonely and I missed having that feeling of brotherhood with somebody else.
All this got me to thinking about the difference between wanting something from someone else and dealing with the reality of what they can give you. With Waru I was so fixed on what I needed I didn't give a shit about REALITY.
Talking to Moon today, I realized that I am okay (or at least getting close to became okay) with the fact that I have a lot of associates, but a small number of real friends. Don't get me wrong, it ain't bad to be an associate. It doesn't mean we can hang out, have a good time, occasional share a profound thought and a good laugh, it just means I don't look to that person for emotional support and for some sanity when I can't contain all the voices in my head.
Moon had been trying to explain this to me for a while, but it has only just now really begun to sink in. What can I say. I am a slow learner.
There are three women who have strangely enough have become like the FATES to me, although they aren't really connected to each except through me. I met them at different places and different times, but each one of them has brought her own special brand of balance to my life. Let's call them Star, World, and Moon. (More on each later, I promise).
Anyway I talked to the Moon today for the first time in a long time and she told me some things that got me thinking.
I am originally a Cali Boy but have been kind of nomadic for a while. Moon has known me the longest of the FATES so she knows all about me back when the West Coast was all I knew. She also knew me when I was struggling to figure out who my real friends are (still working on that one.) There has been one friend in particular that I have been stuck trying to figure out for a long time now: Waru.
Waru and Moon used to be good friends too, so she has a good perspective on things. Since I was going through this whole "who really is worth keeping" thing on top of being the victim of some serious backstabbing...I was on the look out for a new best friend. Now me and Waru were old friends. Not the best of friends, but I thought pretty good. So I thought he would be the perfect replacement. Yeah I know dumb right.
So I tried to force our friendship and now later I have realized that it may not have been a good idea. Moon happened to run into Waru and she found out some interesting things about his perspective on the issue. To sum it up he felt like I was trying to push him to be like family and in al honesty he has a huge phobia of relationship of any kind, romantic and platonic.
Moon had tried to set me straight from the jump, but I was stubborn to be real...lonely and I missed having that feeling of brotherhood with somebody else.
All this got me to thinking about the difference between wanting something from someone else and dealing with the reality of what they can give you. With Waru I was so fixed on what I needed I didn't give a shit about REALITY.
Talking to Moon today, I realized that I am okay (or at least getting close to became okay) with the fact that I have a lot of associates, but a small number of real friends. Don't get me wrong, it ain't bad to be an associate. It doesn't mean we can hang out, have a good time, occasional share a profound thought and a good laugh, it just means I don't look to that person for emotional support and for some sanity when I can't contain all the voices in my head.
Moon had been trying to explain this to me for a while, but it has only just now really begun to sink in. What can I say. I am a slow learner.
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