i miss my pops.
i DO think it's true that one can't become a man while still getting help from mommy or daddy, and i'm grateful that i can say that. but that's the hard part. i wanna see how proud i know
he'd be, if he knew how far i've come, AND with nobody's help. i feel like forgiving him all the time, then i think about how humiliated it felt to get rejected for a goddamn JC Penny card, in front of a chick no less, because my credit is so fizucked that like 75% of the country has better credit than me.
all that sappy cumbiah hippy bullshit crumbles into a nasty look on my face and a slight growl, "Grrrrr!!!"
i think credit is the anti-christ. some articulate black-dude philosuphy major in Santa Cruz explained to me once...
something about how money is more important than race more and more. like how a rich black man is (these days and in general) "better" than a poor white dude. there was way more to it, and it made sense when he
said it. but all i wanted was to bum a smoke, not convert to whatever.
dreddy rules because she brings me taco bell while i'm busy busting my ass typing feverishly at the Global Headquarters. When she was bartending in Balboa, down in Orange County some dude paid, or some shit, to drink a pint of her piss. being the accomodating type, she went and filled 'er up, and he DID. or so the story goes...
if it's true, i hope that dude enjoyed it. cuz it makes me wanna barf.