KaWL-Me-KrYs!!Got shit on my mind.
KaMoFLoDgE
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Name: KaMoFLoDgE
Country: United States
State: California
Metro: Los Angeles
Birthday: 2/18/1985


Interests: *Poetry: The art of spoken word is beautiful *Basketball: Though it is unlikely that I will be playing for Occidental <--My school! *Music: I love all music (if its good, to me), but I have a particular affinity for love songs, and songs about passionate love making...Me'Shell Ndegeocello, Goapele, Mary J. Blige and so on... *People: I say this not to sound like a playa lol (though I am Pimp Juice *wink* Twin!), but I love to meet people, get into people, be around them and a part of their lives.
Occupation: Student


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Member Since: 10/1/2003

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Thursday, August 30, 2007

Religion, Blessings, Spirituality, Mysticism, Atheism

This weekened, I completed Sam Harris' "The End of Faith: Religion, Terror and the Future of Reason" and I had an enjoyable time reading it.  Now that I've catalogued all of the post-its that I tagged its pages with (I like to be an engaged reader, but hate writing in books), I am pondering on its significance in my life.

I've had some interesting conversations, or beginnings of conversations about it, with both strangers and friends.  Not nearly long enough in some cases to engage the actual context of the argument without it devolving into the expected barrage of skepticism because it does not forward a tolerance of religion.  Its frustrating eve if expected. 

In particular, I spoke with a guy yesterday, advocating for the impeachment of Cheney on the Pasadena City College campus, with whom I eventually ended up in a discussion about Sam Harris' text.  He is part of Lyndon LaRouche PAC, a portion of a larger think tank, that is somewhat of a politically aggressive leftist (style) organization. I opened my mouth about Harris, the organizer "J" called him a Russell objectivist.  Whatever that means. LOL.   I did a little research though, and have yet to find anything TOO inflammatory about Russell or Harris, or objectivism.  Well nothing, save all of their (J incuded) hard to miss white-male-ness. 

That aside its funny to me because I made an effort to challenge their promotion of FDR's policies with questions of how it will be an inclusive struggle.  Trying to see if his knowledge expanded beyond economics history and facts (that I later learned were fed to him by his organization).  That being said, he was very well spoken and seemed to know his shit.  His fuck up was admitting that his information was fed to him by his organization and that he had not researched the information himself.  Problematic because he made an assessment about the book and author, without having read the book and wrote it off without doing research himself.  One has to wonder if that is acceptable in some cases... or deplorable in all.

The more refined contemporary thinkers would probably love nothing more than for droves of people to align themselves with whatever cause they've discovered to be the key to a better world.; and for them to do so under their guidance.  The sad thing is I think that is little short of depotism... I could be wrong and using the word improperly.   I am challeneged by this thought as I reflect on both the organizer's words about Harris, as well as his regurgitated words about the state of the U.S. economy, Cheney, and the need to put FDR on a pedastal.

All that said, this crisis of conscience also seems coincidental with my cleaning out old files where I came upon a random bloggish, free-write I went on while watching Creflo Dollar in the wee hours of the morning, back home in NYC.   See for yourself... Ya... Haven't blogged in a while... SHEESH!

Watching Creflo Dollar on my television brings mixed emotions.  I come to this point time and time again, where I recognize that I am able to extract from a message, sermon, (insert politically correct word here) jewels of wisdom that are applicable to my life regardless of my choice not to be religiously/spiritually affiliated.  But at the same time, feel angst every time I hear “God,” “Blessing,” “Jesus Christ,” “The Lord,” or references to “Jesus dying on the Cross” for my sins.

 

I watched Pastor Dollar and tried to imagine the point in his life that he became aware that he was capable of commiting himself to articulating his faith through ministry.  But I wonder to myself “What about him made him confident enough to believe that he could bring people out of darkness, out of misery, out of despair and unto to God?”  I wonder, “Where and when did he harness all of the strength that he attributes to God, enough to articulate the messages found in scriptures of the Bible?” How does he know that he knows what he knows.  

 

And once I begin, I end shortly thereafter because it becomes nothing more than a wildly circular conversation. “Well he knows it because he has faith. And he has faith because he believes that God is his creator and that his creator does not make mistakes. The mistakes are made only by those of the flesh who have fallen from Grace…” And on and on.  I can’t seem to step outside of what indoctrination I’ve been exposed to long enough to closely scrutinize it in a way that might either bring me back to a stable middle ground in which I remain the unmoved agnostic-Christian… or to being straight up atheist or have complete unwavering faith. 

 

And still I wonder, had I been taught early enough how to have faith, would it have made a difference, or would I have just be deluded earlier on and thus it would be more difficult to shake.  I am hard pressed to believe that God will never fail me, because that belief is accompanied by the thought that if things don’t go the way I wanted them to, that they weren’t meant to be in the first place.  But if you think about it for half a second you have to wonder, well “how is one to know whether or not I’ve been failed if there is a logical explanation for every occasion in which I feel like failure is in fact what occurred?”

 

I ponder on why people go to church week after week. But while I pondered that I compared it to the way I can go to the club week after week.  The same place, get in my club best and sweat myself SILLY… Being honest with myself I know I crave being in that space.  I have this conversation over and over again about the superficiality of the club crowd, and yet I still find myself amid it.  It is much like I critique the one-dimensionality of being classified a “Stud” in the gay community when my style of dress only scratches the surface of who I am. But in both cases I pride myself in being the exception to the rule (how self righteous of me, right?). And then again I still know that in some way or another I am playing into it all.  But I can dig that some people are church people.  They crave the self knowledge they don’t get elsewhere, that they get when they’re a part of the congregation.  Its like being an academic; at some point or another you crave the knowledge you know is out there. 

 

And again with the comparision to the club.  If you miss one week, you feel like you missed out on something.  Something about going every week keeps you ahead of the curve.  There might be a new dance, a new vibe, a new DJ, some fly ass shorts someone had on that you think you could dig too.  In church, you risk missing a part of a message that is a 3 weeks series.  You might miss out on a “blessing,” you may miss the altercall, you may miss palm Sunday, you may be someone struggling with dealing with self condemnation and miss Pastor Dollar’s sermon on Condemnation and how to overcome it.  And then again if you refer back to the logic I mentioned earlier, bout God never failing, and if things don’t happen in your life, they aren’t meant to happen then wouldn’t  that mean that if you were meant to be in church (or the club) one week, you’ll be there and if God didn’t intend you to be there you won’t?  Perhaps there’s a loophole there in that if you’re not a faithful Christian then it doesn’t apply.  But I can’t imagine that to be true because if God is the creator of all things, he controls all beings, faithful or not.

 

Just some things to ponder I guess. I’ll prolly come back to this again later. Or the next time my spiritual feathers are ruffled.  (3:44am PST- 6:44 EST).


Tuesday, June 12, 2007

S/he (Still Editing)

S/He___ not crazy

Just expand(s) ___ mind to ponder

Life’s unexplainables

With Beautiful Eyes

wide

with anxiety…

Tongue wet

with the condensation

of disparate philosophy

And conspiracy theory

But still Starving

for sustenance

 

S/He ___ think circles ‘round most

And makes them dizzy

___ Mentality questioned

When ___ speech imparted

Retreat(s) when met with

Dilated glances

from

Those square,

and uninspired types

Substituting the script

For original thought and honest gestures

 

Your small talk is for small minds

S/He ___ speak obese

Nurture(s) imaginative blank

spaces

Those distant epochs, traveled via

Daydreams

And clairvoyant memories

Of Revolutionary tactics

Forged against

The System


S/He ___ see the matrix

Fight(s) its existence

b/c living a dual reality is unjust

and yet still stands

all ten fingers

and ten pretty toes

mocha brown skin

queer identified

prideful

young woman.

 

S/He___ self destructive

Runs from others

While running from self.

There is no such thing as safe space

Just periods of delirium

That disguise peril

 

S/He ___love generously

When the stakes are good enough

Plant(s) seeds in heart

 

S/He ___ do(es)n’t hate them

just tired of laying before their doorsteps

carrying baggage

hiding heart shaped skeleton

keys

 

S/He ___ maternal

S/He ___ an anomaly

S/He ___ speak quietly

 

S/He ___walk this lonely space

Like a desert, vast n dry. 

Consider(s) giving up

But continue(s) looking for the oasis. 

Expecting to see

OUR reflection standing in the mirage

S/He ___ Believe(s) it still exists. 

And that vision is OUR lifeline.

 

 





Friday, May 11, 2007

Womanliness as Masquerade v.2.0 (Studs Included) <Final>

Joan Riviere notes that not long ago, for women, being an intellectual was equated with masculinity, or a woman's desire to be a man.  Such a position implicitly treats intellectual pursuits as a kind of "property" for which women, unless taking on some essential masculinity, would not have the capacity to possess. It also obscures the fact that, then and now, "masculine" identified women, did and do, exist; but masculine in this situation is meant in terms of a woman's gender (expression).  Generally this has a great deal to do with her physical presentation, regarded by many as that which aspires to exhibit visual representations of manliness; be it in clothing choice, hair style, mannerisms, body language etc.  However, achieving manliness may not necessarily be her objective.  For at least some women, it may be more important to her that she resist the compulsion to conform to the established ideal of what is an attractive way for a woman to present herself to the world.  Or quite frankly feels more comfortable that way.

This kind of woman, one with masculine gender/expression, is almost always classified as homosexual.  Because, as a society, we have not yet reached a point where the overwhelming majority (all of which are effected by prevailing heterosexism) can comprehend differently-gender expressed people.  Let alone can they stomach the possibility that one can be differently-gender expressed and operate in heterosexual relationship. But these situations do exist.  For that reason it is easier to pretend as if all "masculine" gender/expressing women are queer identified.  Fortunately we have language (albeit amorphous) to identify these women; and for the purpose of this text we will refer to them as "Stud(s)." [1] We will explore the complications of trying to fit them into Riviere's very hetero-centric construction of womanliness; complications which are reinforced both within and outside of the aforementioned group. 

Riviere states early in her text that all womanliness is a masquerade, claiming to make no presumptions about what makes one performance more genuine than another (306).  In this formation it seems as though she is situating womanliness based upon one's  genital marking, and would thus include Stud women.  However, her use of "the mask of femininity" elsewhere, as being synonymous with the "masquerade of womanliness," patently removes Stud women from the equation.  These inconsistencies incite an interest in constructing a way to apply this concept of womanliness to include Stud women, and acknowledge how they suffer from a similar compulsion to appease the hegemonic male ego.    

This kind of application requires making a distinction between 'gender/sex' and 'gender/expression,' where such a distinction has two aims.  The first is to retain a consistency with the language used more generally, as well as within the text.  The second purpose is performative.  It demonstrates the flexibility offered by a more precise use of language, via attaching a description to the general terminology of 'gender.' Judith Butler suggests that performativity is reliant upon the repetition of speech acts (Stone). Ideally it would be preferred to use 'gender' only, to replace gender/expression, and 'sex'  to replace the use of gender/sex.  However, for the sake of being inclusive, this text will use the more cumbersome conjunction.  Interestingly enough the attempt to distinguish them, is simultaneously uses repetition strategically, to encourage the intended linguistic transition. 

The terminology is imperfect, this goes without saying, but without making a way to acknowledge Stud womanliness as distinctive, it will be subsumed under womanliness as a whole. That womanliness is fashioned off of heterosexist constructions that not only exclude homosexual women, but Studs (or masculine women) in particular.  And while at some point it would be progressive for Stud womanliness to be treated as a part of womanliness as a whole, it cannot occur without first making a space for that kind and other kinds of womanliness to exist.   This space will not take shape without a critical analysis to precede it.

While, my original critique of Riviere's work, was focused on the implications of her exclusion of an analysis of how race played into her text, that text also ignores a variety of marginalized identities; including queer ones as well as different gendered-ness.  Such is to be expected of writing from the 1920's.  No less, as a result, it seemed necessary in the last piece as well to make the distinction between 'gender/expression' and 'gender/sex' foundational to the reader.  But as a consequence, it was argued upon my completion, that I "have imposed a dichotomy (between gender/sex and gender/expression) in order to oppose a dichotomy (between masculine and feminine)" (Tobin).  I refute that claim, arguing that there was no suggestion that 'gender/sex' and 'gender/expression' are necessarily polarized, but merely that they should have the space to function independently. Furthermore, the construction of gender/expression, in this sense, is pursuant of a paradigm that allows it to have more than two places in which to reside, beyond masculine and feminine.

In my last paper, I attempted in one part to assert how culturally sanctioned hetero-normativity, if left unchallenged, can obscure the wealth of variance possible in a person's gender performance, as opposed to how one is genitally marked.  There can indeed be a substantial disadvantage to making a "terminological distinction" between gender/sex and gender/expression.  As that symbolically concedes power to the masculine/feminine dichotomy, by acknowledging its existence.  However, there are benefits to be had by first addressing the dimensions of the problematic structure, before proceeding to detoxify it from within.

Riviere treats queer women on a whole, as tangential to her analysis, even if in moments she acknowledges their existence in it.  But at the same time, with remarks like "[t]he capacity for womanliness was there in this woman – and one might even say it exists in the most completely homosexual woman," she suggests that by simply being queer, one is less of a woman (Riviere 306-7).   Ironically a Stud's identity appears to be a hybrid of both what Riviere would call the masquerade, as well as the very structure the masquerade is intended to fight off.  She states:

"Womanliness therefore could be assumed and worn as a mask, both to hide the possession of masculinity and to avert the reprisals expected if she was found to posses it" (Riviere, 306).

For a Stud, her womanliness does not strive to "hide the possession of masculinity," in fact one could argue that her womanliness complicates any definitive understanding of what masculinity is altogether.  But then again, even a masculine expression of womanliness however, could too be interpreted as being "worn as a mask," and one that unfortunately upholds a masculinist regime (Riviere, 306).

Some Stud women are affirmed in their masculine gender/expression, while others find labeling it as such to be confining.  I posted a questionnaire asking my peers, if they were categorized as some variation of "Stud" and had friends who were categorized similarly, to respond.  Only five people participated, stifling the depths to which the analysis could have gone.   But, fortunately the responses came from women whom I would probably never categorize as the same, offering some variety to the limited pool.  When asked if they self labeled or felt they were labeled by others, all but one was complicit in accepting that they or others used labels to describe them.  She answered the questionnaire probably because, as she intimated:

I didn't label myself until I was about 20, when I made the conscious decision to be a stud (I went to college in the south, [where you] had to be one or the other), but now it's more of you get what I give you and I no longer identify that way" (E).

Her experience suggests that one's self identification is pivoted upon the environment in which one exists.  She felt incapable of genuine self expression in the South, in having to choose one positionality rather than function comfortable in whatever her gender/expression truly was.  But she has regained that confidence, with age and upon her return to the Los Angeles area, and with friends that accept her no matter her form of expression.

There is a sense of community that can come with being identified as a "Stud" even if it also has its downsides.   None of the participants felt that labels were 'important,' however at least one thought they were 'necessary,' even if only "to identify with other similar people that carry the same characteristics. [I]t's a way to form close bonds and friendships with people who enjoy the same types of things," and develop a kind of kinship (S).

Yet even still, forming that kinship can also be damning. It becomes a problem when shared interests turn into criteria for entrance in an exclusive "All Boi's " Clubs.  Riviere's mask analogy is representative of this new uniform, when it becomes primarily about the image of one's being a Stud.  Tracey Sedinger argues that:

imaginary identifications enforce homogeneity: they produce or underwrite a particular type of collective or class on the basis of a resemblance between their members, most often based on a shared property, which can often be represented in visual form.  The produce a substantive community: each member participates in a common substance" (48).

A Stud's imagined self, as articulated through one's gender/expression, could be regarded as that visual form.  Although who that same Stud does or does not date could also fall into that category.   It is problematic however, in both examples, when those that are aberrant to that homogenous structure, are ridiculed, discriminated against or de-legitimized for their individuality.  Such is the case in situations where "E" was told that her choice to date people who are labeled similarly to her, or the choice of "two non femmes to date," was "REALLY gay or some faggot shit."  This kind of commentary is as much ironic, coming from someone who is assumedly also queer, as it is unfortunate. 

A friend of mine hypothesized that "Homosexuality is constructed in opposition to Masculinity in the States."  Elaborating further with, "In other countries men hold hands" (Paloma Salazar).  It would make sense to take her words to heart in this case, where masculinity even from a woman, could be seen as gay (read unfit masculinity), if she should choose to engage in anything more than platonic with another masculine woman.  When asked if they date women categorized similarly to them, three participants said they did not, although none of the participants expressed that they felt there was anything wrong with the practice. At least two of them chalked up their choice to being a matter of personal preference.

            Ultimately, Riviere is on to something when she asserts that womanliness is a masquerade.  In fact her position is powerful insofar as she recognizes a need to "pacify" the insecurity of the masculine ego, by averting the reprisals of her male peers (306).  It is the consequence of the hegemony of this society.  But it is important to recognize that this system effects all people.  If womanliness is masquerade, that includes the womanliness of differently-gender expressed woman, like Stud women, as well.   And despite the responses by those who participated in my questionnaire, it is not all that convincing that personal preference is all that governs how all Studs relate to themselves, other Studs, and the women with whom they choose to be in a relationship.   It is quite possible that one's choices are configured upon the same hegemonic forces that force feminine women to pacify male ego by rebuking their masculinity.  Those same forces would assert same sex relations between men unfit because the are not 'appropriate representations of masculinity,' and as such lead some  Studs to believe that a romantic relationship with another Stud is unfit as well.

--------------
[1]
In this text Stud will refer to women who are not "femme" identified, or could not pass as straight.  Other names include Soft Stud, AG (Aggressive), Boi, Dom (Dominant), Andro (Androgynous) and Butch etc.

References

Appendix A. Questionnaire

Appendix B. Questionnaire Responses

Riviere, Joan. Womanliness as a Masquerade, International Journal of Psychoanalysis (1929) 10: 303-313.

Salazaar, Paloma. Conversation. May 2007.

Sedinger, Tracey. Nation and Identification:  Psychoanalysis, Race, and Sexual  Difference, Cultural Critique (2002) 50(Winter):  40-73

Stone, Alison. "Towards a Genealogical Feminism: A Reading of Judith Butler's Political Thought. " Contemporary Political Theory  4.1 (2005): 4-24. General Interest Module. ProQuest. *** Occidental College Library, Los Angeles, CA ***.  08 May.              2007 

Tobin, Jeff. Email Correspondence. 30 April 2007.


Sunday, February 11, 2007

Where I am... These days

Its funny how writing used to be such a reliable outsource for my stress, yet it hasn't really been quite the cure for what has been the incessant toil of life these last few weeks, maybe months.  Its an uphill battle but I am fighting to regain my footing in the US, or better yet, fighting to regain my footing period, as its been off kilter since even before I left.  But maybe I am deluding myself into believing I ever really had a footing.

No maybe... I AM. 

Truth of the matter is, every time that I look back it seems like yesterday was a little easier, a little less chaotic, a little less pointless than today.  I get up anyway. I press on anyway, I work thru the shit... ANY-FUCKIN-WAY.  But it doesn't make me feel any glory in being strong, because I am only doing it because I cannot go backwards... (I only know it because I have tried many times, and have been unsuccessful) and I am going to continute to live. But people tell me I am strong for this, that they would buckle under the pressure and would have to find alternative routes.

Believe me I look for those same routes everyday. I buckle and I push back. Buckle and then push back... buckle and then push that shit up offa me because when it comes down to it, its either gonna be "THE SHIT" or me and I aint really with the alternative.  Sometimes it just feels like if i don't do what I am supposed to do, my life will be a fuckin mess... and as it is, it feels like that, but I know it could only get worse.  I am PRIVELEGED and fortunate as HELL... which is why i get on myself so hard about fuckin' up, because I have been afforded a lotta shit that other people aint been and I still fuckin struggle... what say you of that?

But still when others look at me, they see me for my accomplishments, because I allow few to see me for my flaws... I have them... in abundance, but I have to remind myself that they aren't all I am composed of.  I struggle to see the true beauty in me sometimes... and I love me... but me be on some SHIT sometimes... Perhaps its a growing pain.  I mean I do have a birthday comin' up... one week from today. 

 These days I look in the mirror and it is easy for me to see what I can dig about me aesthetically, but it is often drenched in all that lies beneath the skin which isn't at peace.  I am not at peace, whatever that may be.

Nieztsche says that we are "nihilists," and that we "do not know ourselves..." damn I believe it, but at the same time I know that I am always seeking to know me better, and know what it means to be me, and what it is that I maneuver this life by.  I am resistant to call them beliefs because they change so frequently, but they are kinda like beliefs when u boil them down... I guess.  

My "beliefs" color the way that I interact with my peers, why or why not I engage in romantic relationships, what keeps me there, what pushes me away.  I believe in strategy, I believe in learning from past mistakes.  But I mean if u look at it like that maybe rather than calling it a belief I should call it a lesson... and that my attempts to alter the steps are merely guided by them.  I am particularly driven by my lessons when it comes to the love dept... I think its been on my mind all to frequently these days. 

We had a "Black Dialogue" on my campus recently, where a gang of those who self-identify as black, came together to talk about issues amidst the community at my college.   It was one about relationships, and having been in my own head a great deal about them as of late, I had to weigh in.  I learned from my last serious relationship a lot about pace, and was quite frankly pushed past my limits... I still miss the feeling of being in love, and having a relationship but I am sooo cautious about allowing myself to even enterain even being in it again.  Not merely because I got hurt, but because I wasn't being honest about my own needs...

Its a pattern that carries over too often in my life, where I push my needs aside to suit someone else, be it someone I'd potentially date, or friends or everyone in between and outside of those brackets... I put people first always and I think know I am learning, slowly how to put myself first, however much it is disappointing to me or those with whom I am interacting.   It sucks because I know I have "Captain Save a HO" syndrome, where I wanna be everyon'e everything but forget to be everything to myself... I am unsatisfied with what I can provide for me, it doesn't give me ENOUGH satisfaction to ensure my own well being...It is a sort of selflessness to that has an annoying ring of martyrdom in it that I am trying to shake... because no martyrs I ever heard of got to reap the beneifts of the sacrifice.


Tuesday, December 05, 2006

No Place to Look But Up

I been strugglin' trying to get my thoughts down someplace. My journal isn't working anymore.  Semi-critical analysis of race issues back home don't give me the needed release.  I feel tied up by the words that I tip-toe aroudn, so as not to contradict myself, and try to make you understand where I am coming from.  I write these words right now with Sy Smith in the abckground on repeat and my eeye closed. Just typing. I want to feel whole. I misss home. I want to know love again. I want feel real hugs again.  I want to restart growing up again.  I don't want to be in this constant state of forward motion, undable to take a step back. Erase that line, redo that page like I can do my architecture project.  Throw away that last piece of trace, use a lighter pencil, a 6H instead of a 4H this time.  Its harder, erases easier, goes unnoticed under the photocopier's light.

I wrote Nicolay yesterday and he wrote me back last night and I complimented him on the track with Sy, and told him I would cop as much as I could afford of his work when I got abck to the States. I think I actually will.  I told someone else the other day that I wanted to go see my Aunts.  My great aunt (granny sis) Gail up in CT, and my Aunt LaVern (my bio pops sis) up in Albany.  I think I still do, thought it doesn't seem as pertinent as it did when I said it. 

I want to help my mother to realx. I want to unleash her from a life of constant hard work.  I know she's addicted to it, I know she does it for my benefit but I want ehr to be here to see me in my prime and I worry about her stress level everyday.  I want to be my little brother's big sister, in real life, and real time. Not just this transient stranger that he has to warm up to all over again after months of my absence.

I want not to fell this lump in my throat everytime I dig beneath my surface, the facade of a girl who's strong and know's exactly where the fuck she's trying to go, because truth be told she wing's it everyday.  Tries something new, ventures out into her own person and get scared back into the safe mode version.

I am to fuckin' suceptible to people and their bullshit.  I am tired of trying to do shit to better myself educate myself only to feel alienated by that growth and knowledge more and more each day.  Each step closer to my degree is a step away from my people and my past and the folks I knew once upon a time that may or may not be doing the same. 

I feel like I can only communicate with my folks from Oxy, that get why shit is FUCKED up and why bullshit boxes are stupid, and understand why language is an insufficient medium of communication.  I miss being able to fuckin' just feel some shit and be high offa that. I miss disecting shit with my twin till 5am I miss when I learned to drive stick my freshman year and college was still so new (but I don't fuckin miss the homework). 

And I sit here in this computer lab, the last haven for my sanity in this insane ass place and I think: Damn, I have a bullshit "exam" in the morning, studio in the afternoon, and I anticipate an allnighter to write a bullshit 20 pg paper for a class that wasn't a class... but was the class I predominantly came to this ass backwards country for (I don't really mean that, a lotta shit about this place makes sense, but their race politics suck, and their addiction to stereotypes unsettle me).

I wan't to be a DJ sometimes. I inhale good soul music cuz its provides me with the breath that I sometimes don't have to keep climbing this bullshit hill.

And even after spilling these words,  I feel like there is so much more, the thoughts won't connect and I still want to spill more.

I just want to sit with you, Kai, Charm, Elisha, Molly, Morgan, Knef (to name a few of a FEW) and vibe offa some shit, beyond the surface shit. Want to feel lifted offa ur energy... I feel deflated... I need yall... I need something.  I need to get the FUCK OUT OF HERE.
Currently Listening
Here
By Nicolay
My Story ft. Sy Smith
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