Post Modern Thoughts On..........

I don't know what to say, my thoughts and feelings are racing through my endocrine and nervous system like a herd of Wildebeest escaping the grasp of a starving lion. The dust hasn't settled yet, but I maintain my optimism for peace, unity, and a new era in thought throughout our nation. It's true, I'm extremely elated that an African-American (one generation removed from Africa) has proven MLK's words "I have a dream that my children will not be judged by the color of their skin, but will one day be judged by the content of their character.", to be true. Alas, I do not agree that the most important racial point about President Obama is the fact that he is black...it is the fact that he is a mixture of black and white, that his milestone carries the ultimate proof that all colors are biologically compatible....thus making us ONE. In a world when I was called a nigger as a child...and heard those like me maliciously called niggers as soon as Nov. 1st at a bar in Arlington, TX, it brings a peace in my heart to know that there are a majority of Americans that think beyond those filters. In a world when I was not allowed to be around when a girlfriend's parents were around because I was the color of a pinto bean, lol.

In a country where anti-miscegenation laws were deemed unconstitutional by the Supreme Court when President Obama was 6 and my mother was 17...both products of miscegenation.

In a city where I was asked if I was a blood or a crip by police as a teenager on multiple occasions, based solely on the color of my skin....(I know, laughable isn't it?)

We have finally proven that character is more than pigmented reflections of the light spectrum.

Beyond the obvious, I honestly feel that American foreign and domestic policy will change for the better. I'm looking forward to the expanding of the Federal Employee Health care Benefits program to all those who cannot get health care from their employer. I'm saying this as a current government employee that worked his first year helping disaster victims without the possibility of affordable health care and racked up over $3,000.00 in medical debt as a result (temporary employee).

I'm looking forward to a leader who understands that Bin Laden is not in Iraq...and that our current doctrine of conjuring fear, preemptive strikes, civil rights infringement, and genocide ignoring is the wrong path for a nation that is based on liberty, justice, and the pursuit of happiness.

I'm relieved that we have a leader with no ties to the fossil fuel industry and realizes that our grandchildren and great grandchildren need a better alternative.

I'm looking forward to observing a leader ignite the world again.

I pray that we can all work together to make things right. I pray that our opponents can shed the shackles of hate, misunderstanding and spin that has driven them throughout this election period.

I pray that I can not only live up to the example set by President Obama, but that I can live up to the expectations of my great-grandfather, who posed as a white man to complete his Doctorate in medicine, my grand fathers who worked blue collars jobs and fought for our country but could not vote or eat in the presence of the majority, my father who fought for this country and has dedicated his life for the betterment for those who have not and have less, and my mother whose optimism was dashed by an adolescence of prejudice for her skin being to dark.

I urge all to seriously consider community service again, whether it be through organizations...stamping out hatred....or by simply reaching out a helping hand to a neighbor.

I think I've said enough now, honestly I'm tired. I will amend as thoughts proliferate.

*Nov.4th....written the night we made history...never amended it....just let it marinate with what I was feeling at the time.*

"The genious of our country is our ability to change."

-Sen. Barack Obama, President-Elect

My FAP got me in this situation

Ok, let me preface this story with the following explanation. I was on this "Guy's" blog the other night and there was this link to some site about reasons why beards are cool, right...stay with me now....

And so after reading all the hilarious reasons why beards are cool...there's this link that's all "Want to see what this is all about?" So, inveritably...I clicked it. The ensuing site was a dating site where everything was free...contact...email...setting up profile...just a mini myspace focused on dating. So, being single I said, what the hell....I'll make a profile...and perhaps lure a wounded yet chesty fawn into my stabbin' cabin (Yes, I'm aware that that line was both genius and unbecoming of whatever self righteous facade I project..it's still funny though). I looked at quite a few profiles of females within a 25 mile radius, gas is high. Some profiles I clicked.."Yes, I'm interested"....a few emailed me back within 24 hrs. One in particular emailed me simply..."How are you doing?". I took a closer look at her profile and noticed her headline read "SBF looking for SWM". Obviously I was somewhat befuddled.

I read the rest of her profile and it was all "super Hoity Toity". Ridonculous statements like, "No Ebonics", "No tattoos", "No Grill", blah blah blah. The thing about it was that this was a 33 yr old woman. I had to respond with a few questions of my own. Brace yourself...this is not exactly a short email.....check it...a one two a one two....

Shawn1979:

Hi Malibu, I'm doing well, thanks for asking. I'll have to admit, after reading your profile again I noticed a couple of things that makes me believe I don't fit your mold.

1 Your headline says "SBF for SWM"? What's up with that? Too many bad experiences with those of African descent?

2 "No Tattoos"...well, as you can see I have a large tattoo on my arm in one of the pictures, but I'm a professional educated black man. It's not a prison tattoo, I got it done by a Samoan in a renown tattoo shop in Vegas that specializes in Samoan and other styles of Polynesian Tatu. It's a culture I've always been interested in and have researched in the past. Too bad you don't like them though, sometimes tattoos tell an intricate story about one's life. I definitely don't always walk the straight and narrow. Probably, not the most christian thing to do...but neither is restricting yourself to a certain group of humans because their skin reflects a lighter flesh tone of the light spectrum than your own.

3 "No Ebonics".....ok, I'll admit...I don't say the N word every other sentence...really, not at all actually, lol. But no ebonics? Are you suggesting that someone that would speak ebonics is not intelligent?

I'm not lambasting you I promise, I just want to know where you're coming from...I shoot from the hip.

Now that Ive said my spiel, I do like the fact that you know exactly what you want though. Albeit somewhat narrow and myopic. I mean, I'm not saying you should only date black guys....just that you might be missing out...I don't just date just black women...I've been open minded enough to date Asian, Caucasian, Indian, African, African-American, Hispanic, and mixed...stretched out over 15 years or so of course...I'm a one woman man.

I guess you've already considered going against your edict because you emailed me to say hi, but I had to bring it up to see what your side of the story is. Let me know what you think...and I apologize for the lack of brevity, my mind spills over from time to time. Take care, have a good day, and pretty smile by the way.
-end

Guess it's safe to say I was brutally honest. Out of line? What do you think?

And now to throw myself completly under the bus on the road of self depracation....I'm going to post what my profile "About Me" section says..what the ladies see...just to really put myself in the meat grinder...and yes, I was slightly under the influence..check it...a one two a one two....

"Namaste. I love life, culture, laughter, learning music, art, rivers, going out, etc. I'm a pretty nice guy, to a fault sometimes, my mother's good heart served me well for sure. I'm still not 100% sure what I'm looking for here, a spark, that feeling in your chest when your heart feels heavy, or maybe just someone to go to live music shows or go salsa dancing. I'm pretty eclectic and I definitely like a woman with an open mind, never judge a book by it's cover....or it's critical review."

Sad? Probably. But, I felt the honesty was appropriate to fully effectuate the commentary of this blog.

Online dating?....bleh....no substitute for sexy body language, flirty smiles, feminine eyes, lips, legs, thighs, ass, good conversation, bodacious tatas, pheromones, and stiff drinks.

Yours truly,

-"That Buffalo got my blood a' boilin' ".

Alas, a sober voice amidst a crowd of McCarthy understudies

I couldn't have articulated these points any better than this man....a true personification of intellectual vigor.




As a side note, I'd like to quickly dispel some of the emails that are going around that are leading the feeble minded to believe that Sen. Obama is some sort of Anti-American socialist zealot.

The following lies are often sent in emails

Sen. Obama is a Muslim.....false....as if it would matter if practice Islamic faith in a country of religious freedom.

Sen. Obama's chief economic advisers are former CEO's of Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac.....false....although one of them actually vetted vice presidential candidates for Sen. Obama, for about 2 weeks.

Michelle Obama went on a racist tirade about white people and said the word "whitey"......false....you can thank Limbaugh for that one.

Sen. Obama is a close friend and possible co-conspirator with Mr. William Ayers.....false....the school reform board Sen. Obama served on with Mr. Ayers was created by a conservative thinktank..the Annenberg Foundation ...meaning that Mr. Ayers served on a School Reform board that was granted funds by the federal government. Leonore Annenberg is the chairman of the Annenberg Foundation and is a supporter of Sen. McCain's campaign....does that mean there is a terrorist tie for Sen. McCain? I hardly think so.

Sen. Obama is not an actual American citizen.......false.

Sen. Obama is not in Hawaii to visit his sick grandmother, but to interfere in a lawsuit filed to retain his original birth certificate.....false....Sen. Obama has already issued his birth certificate to the press.

Sen. Obama did not really write the two books published about his life before and after becoming a U.S. Senator.......false....Sen. Obama is as eloquent a writer as he is a speaker....how could you otherwise become President of the Harvard Law Review?

Sen. Obama wants to rewrite the Star Spangled banner.......false

Sen. Obama's view to increase taxes on the wealthiest 5% is socialist and unjust......false....our tax structure has always taxed the wealthy at a higher rate than those who are less financially independent...it's called progressive taxation. Sen. Obama's current tax proposal is just one of many ways we can reclaim our control of the deficit that is spinning out of control.

And lastly....that email claiming the 50 lies Obama has told is full of misquotes and false information.

It's disturbing to me that the same political machine that, during the 2000 Republican Primaries, referred to Sen. McCain's adopted Bangladeshi daughter as a product of an extramarital affair with a black woman, has now taken over Sen. McCain's campaign with the very same tactics of overtly false robocalls and emails against Sen. Obama. It's even more disturbing to me that there is a large number of individuals out there that are basing their views of Sen. Obama solely on these fabricated and deceptive emails. Some even yelling out "Terrorist" and "Socialist", in reference to Sen. Obama at Republican rallies.

Although I obviously advocate Sen. Obama as a presidential candidate, I do not aim nor expect to sway anyone's vote by spilling my brain onto a bulletin or blog on MySpace. My only hope is to quell the hopelessly negative and false emails that are circulating out there, in hopes that maybe one person will conduct their own investigation into the real issues that we are facing now. If then, you want to vote for Sen. McCain based on his foreign, domestic, and energy policies, good for you, I cannot and will not try to deter anyone from exercising their democratic right.

- Shawn C. Slaughter

Ok, so this wasn't as much of a side note as it was an extension of what Gen. Powell paraphrased in the video, lol, but once I start going it's hard for me to stop. Happy Voting all.


As always, comments are welcome from all sides. Thanks.

*Note: This was written before President Obama was elected, due to all the ignorant emails I kept getting...only downside to living in Texas*

Connected

Namaste.

Ok, so I stole the whole, "Listen to Otis Redding, kid", line off the bathroom wall at The Dubliner Pub where I was shooting darts and drinking Chimay on Friday Night. When I got home, I was three sheets to the wind and thought it was a smooth ass one liner, so I put it up here , as my "status" line, later on that night.

Fast forward to 5 am Sunday morning, after lounging at the O bar (Chris Chris Alert) and I'm listening to oldies, talking about music, playing dominoes and partaking in my usual weekend ritual (those who know..know) and digging through her massive cd collection, Jill mentions Otis Redding and I put down the cd cover of the Sam Cooke album we're listening to and jump on it. Listening to Otis Redding while the sun is coming up, playing dominoes, and laughing it up with good friends are the type of experiences I cherish deeply. Also, as a result, I'm on my 5th or 6th love affair with the Otis Redding catalogue which will probably result in me unearthing all of my Stax Records cd's as well....this may take a while. Anyway, the reason for this long winded blog is for the purpose of sharing this song which makes my right leg jerk back and forth everytime I hear it. In fact, I'll probably play or sing this song at my wedding. Don't get me wrong...I have no plans or prospects for marriage and I love, I mean, loooooove being single, free as a bird....but if there is some majestic lady out there who ,sometime in the future, has the ability to "tweak" her pussy control levels to whatever specifications it would take to rope me into the sanctity of marriage..then I'll probably sing this song at our wedding. I'll have to remember to bring a towel cuz there's gonna be lots of sweatin' goin on if that happens. Check it out. Gotta listen to the whole thing or you'll miss the flavor that makes your day a little better. Enjoy.






Thanks Brett, Jill, and Sam. Good times and music as usual.

Melvin and Joanna: Reflection

Today, I had a wonderful and insightful discussion with two people who were past an impressionable age the day Martin Luther King died a martyr's death while on a trip to Memphis, TN to support the striking black sanitation workers of that city. One of the people I spoke with was my mother Joanna, and the other is a man whom I've known and lived with from the age of 10 until I headed off to college, known simply as Melvin. We had a good conversation about what it was like for them in those days of protests, racism, and violence.

Melvin is a tall, dark skinned "handsome" 60 + year old man who grew up on over 100 acres of farm land in East Texas. I call him handsome because he has more muscular arms and faster legs than I do and I'm 27, and I'm sure he was able to pick up any woman who would lend him an ear back in his day...I think the mustache probably had something to do with it too. His hands are dark, large, and rough from the decades of farm work and blue collar labor he has done all of his life...he dropped out of school in the 10th grade to help out on the family farm...dawn until dusk, 6 days a week. His hair is always neatly groomed into itty bitty shiny curls that didn't turn salt and peppery until he was around 58...remarkable. Over a cold beer, he first tells me about how much he loved James Brown back in those days. He used to grab his beat up church shoes, spit shine them, have his sister trim his hair, and head out the door in the latest polyester fashions of the 60's. He tells me he can't even count how many times he's seen the Godfather of Soul. They used to get "high" (Old school East Texan for drunk) off of whatever they could sneak in and dance the night away with all the pretty young brown skinned girls who are now the grandmothers of today's youth. James Brown lit up the stage every night, leaving all the young men trying, in vain, to emulate those smooth dance moves all the way home. Every time he went out, though, he had to watch out for his friends because they were a little wilder than he was. Sometimes, they'd dare to stumble too close to the other side of the theater....the white side. White people loved James Brown too. They entered through the front of the theater, while blacks had to enter through the side or the back of the building. Too many times, Melvin saw the consequences of a young black man intermingling on the white side. His vocal inflection sounded as if this was just a regular story about the past, but his eyes revealed a deeply sowed pain and frustration about this time of his life...as close to "almost teary eyed" as a man of his stature will ever get. He then changes the subject to reminiscing about the times he ate in the kitchen of restaurants because he was not allowed to eat in the main dining area. The color of his skin, the origins of his race of Kings and Queens, rerouted him through the back door, past the rotting trash and the used grease barrels. This was his experience throughout his entire childhood and well into his adulthood. He shook his head and joked about the fact that most of the time, the cooks and dishwashers were old black women, and he had to sit in the kitchen to eat....how many free meals do you think were secretly handed out as sort of an...instant retribution? He belted out a rough laugh and said, "Boy, those white boys were losing their ass on me when I ate in the kitchen!".

Melvin was driving a truck for Schepps in Dallas the day Martin Luther King died, something he may not have been able to do had it not been for non-violent protest. He made it a point to mention his disgust with some of the black youth of today..."pants halfway off their ass and gold and shit in their mouths, they don't realize the sacrifices made for them to be able to go to a school they get kicked out of"...a commentary on what he sees everyday now, over 30 years after Martin Luther King died. Melvin has children and Grandchildren and has worked for the same trucking company for over 30 years, winning several awards, helping countless friends and family, and finally got that Jaguar last spring he'd wanted since he started driving.

Joanna is 54 years old and hails from a quiet little bayou town in Louisiana called Parks, right next to Beaux Bridge..."The Crawfish Capital of the World". As a child, she picked cotton and pecans, and fed livestock to help out her father who worked in a smoke filled sugar cane refinery, and her mother, who worked various factory jobs while her father was off to WWII, before she was born. She is small in stature, about 5'2", and has small, seamstress hands, once again, revealing a laborious upbringing. Her skin is slightly lighter than coffee with two of those little cups of cream, with a reddish tint that reveals her Native American mixing. Her hair is as straight as Pocahontas with a little gray underneath the "used to be" gray she gets touched up every other month or so. Most black people call it "good" hair, but I call it just another texture of hair. Why is short and kinky not considered good, it's our natural hair type isn't it?...but that's another short story all together. She told me about a trip that her Mom and her two other siblings made yearly, to see our "light skinned creole" cousins in another little bayou town named Houston. They traveled via bus, in the back of course, on a trip that lasted about 7 to 8 hours. She explained one trip in particular in which she was a little girl, I'm guessing 10 or so. Some call it the pee pee dance, Mothers call it a "I hope I don't have to deal with pissy underwear" moment, and the bus driver called it, "time to pull over...quickly". When the bus halted next to an old South East Texas Diner, Joanna and her mother scurried off the bus to the front door of the diner, only to find a tall, menacing, good 'ol boy blocking the entrance. He would not allow them, a mother and her 10 year old daughter, come in and relieve themselves. They only had one type of bathroom and that shitty little South East Texas toilet was deemed fit enough, only for asses of , as Melvin describes white people sometimes....our European brothers. The only conclusion was to make that 10 year old little girl, Joanna, and her mother, Vivian, relieve themselves like the animals on their farm back home...outside in the dust, dirt, and rocks. By this time, Joanna was fired up, enunciating every syllable crisply and staring me deep into my soul in order to make sure I was paying attention to every beat of the story's cadence...as if she was expecting me to drift off into my Generation X-like short attention span gaze into TV land. But I was a metronome, keeping the rhythm of her testimony. She then told me about the sit ins and marches of her teenage years. How the Protecting and Serving Police used to show up with riot gear and growling Dobermans...governing through threat of coercion...the usual government's creed. Joanna then stopped and solemnly told me something that I never thought about all of those times I was laughing in class, or sleeping through lectures in college, or losing myself spending all of my time and energy trying to make unhappy women happy with me, or trying to existentially find my path Through Hemp-induced Chapters of my life. She told me that her high school wasn't desegregated until her junior year, 1968...Brown v. Brown was decided in 1954 and those stunning pictures of the National Guard escorting the Little Rock Nine into that White public school were snapped back in 1957. A full 11 years later, Louisiana finally decided to desegregate their public school system. Joanna said not much had changed at that time because they didn't start the aggressive busing program until after she graduated in the 1971. If you ever wonder why the roads in Louisiana are cracked and bumpy (until you get close to a Casino), or why so many of the wards and schools in New Orleans looked so dingy when the nation took a look at the Katrina Disaster, the reason is because Louisiana was the last state to desegregate, meaning that they passed on 11 years of millions and millions of dollars in federal block grant money for roads, highway, bridges, and public buildings...just so little white children didn't have to go to school with little black children like Joanna, who liked to play basketball with the boys and loved math. After her sentiments about how much she loved math as a child, Joanna joked and wittingly said "and now I look around and feel like this shit still don't add up", as she looked up and around her cookie cutter living room.

Joanna was 17 years old, a junior in high school, when Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. died on April 4, 1968. She was marching before that day and continued to march afterward. Raising two black men with all the knowledge and wisdom she could afford while battling with diabetes. They did not have to endure anything close to what Joanna and Melvin did, although there was some racism. Her oldest gets out of jail this Wednesday, January 17 after serving a little over 6 months and will start his own march to salvation, he is strong. Her youngest just moved back home after a failed wedding engagement, to save money for a house, but secretly, he is just searching for a path and some inspiration.

My life is the reflection of Melvin and Joanna, it is my inherent responsibility to build on what they worked, scraped and fought for....and to throw the rope over the fence to help those behind me, because they will never be beneath me. At times I'm frustrated that I haven't reached my full potential in leadership and success (Dr. King got his masters at 28), but I'm grateful for the wisdom that brings me to that conclusion. I will continue marching. Thank you Dr. King. Thank you Melvin and Joanna.

Humberto....Journeyman.....Bohemian....frog.

Everyone, I'd like to introduce my compadre, adviser, and traveling buddy Humberto.....he's one cool ass frog. He chills with me at work, makes it bearable. Sometimes he gives me good advice about women, finances, video game strategies, and which direction I should wipe my ass...you know, useful stuff. He's got my back too...tells me if anyone is talking trash about me when I'm not at work....or who not to shake hands with cuz they don't wash or use gel sanitizer after they scratch inside their pants when no one is looking ....front and/or back. He's like my Michigan J. Frog, only instead of that 1920's "Hello my darlin', hello my baby, hello my ragtime gal" song, Humberto belts out the smoothest R&B jams, hums Roots Reggae, and beatbox's something fierce. He's a good frog though and he's from Austin so you know he's cooler than the other side of the pillow, ya dig? In this picture, he's advising me on what album I should listen to, in order to focus on clearing all this delegated responsibility off my desk......."Radiohead", he says......"Any album except the Bends". Good call Humberto.....good call. Humberto adds, "But don't finish that shit too quickly....cuz they'll just add more to the stack.....pace yourself." Will do, buddy. Will do.







HUMBERTO

Inner Galactic
by
Shawn Slaughter

God Bless those who appreciate the thought funk
Who realize the Scot's Punk
And for stylizing the pot funk
anybody can, anybody will, and i do; freely
pop a wheelie upon the top two;
hemispheres, it can't be weird unless it's feared,
wrought forth amidst a cloud of semi-chaotic
patriotic fractals of the soul
neuronic synapses firing
dendrons shoveling the coal, incendiary
ashes, bursting and floating at the same time
unraveling the arcane rhyme
laying them in an unorthodox line,
assembling thee...auspiciously, clandestinely , 
and all the ly's inbetween.
Like the hot Vietnam sun beaming on Sheen
My muscles lean
Toward an order, much like the gleam
behind a beast's eye in the darkness
for it too has a purpose
to Illuminate the mind's state
and propagate its will, thus; 
unto this qwerty I spill
forevermore......








typed into my blackjack in two parts, first three lines at a noisy bar in addison....the rest while paying homage to the porcelain gods at my place of employement

Ain't that a Bitch!

I was caught running a red light on my way to work a couple of weeks ago, as I was passing Lone Star Park on a rainy day in Grand Prairie. There were no police officers in sight, just a bright flash that startled me so, that I almost ran into a construction barrier located in what used to be a shoulder. About 4 days later, I got an envelope in the mail from the GP police department that alleged that I had run a red light. It listed the particular time of day and produced two incriminating photos of my vehicle. One was a close up of my license plate…undeniably mine, and the other was a wider angle of me blowing through the red light, while in contrast, some of the good citizens of our fair berg were lawfully stopped behind the big white stripe. The letter informed me that I had 7 days to pay $75 or the charge would go up to $100. I had several choices as to how I could pay. I could pay by phone, internet, land, air, and sea. In my tenured decade as a licensed driver, I have to give this one up to the driving gods. I am usually concerned with the issues of privacy and error rates concerning this type of Orwellian prophecy, but I actually agree with the red light cameras, so long as it stops there. Now, given our inert nature to create and seize new markets, I have a hard time believing that it will, indeed, stop there. But, for now, it might have saved me a car wreck in the future, because now, I tap the brakes at that intersection on green lights even.

-DoubleThinking ThoughtCriminal

A previous comment

The following is a little comment I left on my friend Cory's page. I thought I'd make it a little more public. It's me in a nutshell if you can read into it. I imagine it's difficult to fully understand if you don't know me well, but it's insight nonetheless. Monkey sea, build a boat. In a realm of nice and neatly wrapped satchels, I try to step outside of the parcel that entails what the "assignor" has drawn up for me. It's beautiful, although sometimes when I breath, it feels like a thousand bees have occupied my immediate surroundings, stinging my innards, forging a clear path to comfort........so I stopped watching television. No bees, No "assignors". Just acres and acres of pliable code and perpetual humor. Movies are cool though....they end.

A lesson learned...a life to live

A lesson learned...a life to live
Current mood: relaxed
Category: Life

Desiderata

Go calmly amid the noise and haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible without surrender be on good terms with all people. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others; even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons, they are vexatious to the spirit. If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain and bitter; for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.Keep interested in your own career however humble; it is a real posession in the changing fortunes of time. Exercise caution in your business affairs; for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals; and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially, do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love; for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment it is perennial as the grass. Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe, no less than the trees and the stars. you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Her to be. Whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy!

After an evening with my little brother.........in 2006

It's possible that the world is flat at infinite points due to the fact that tangents exist.

It's possible that you are beating yourself up, in fact, after balling up your fist.

It's possible that we all only know what we see with our eyes.

It's possible that the blind are the only ones who can understand our imminent demise.

When you wake up in the morning, what drives your soul

To feel the the bowl of kinetic energy, that potentially, will make your body infinitely..........................................

Roll, Roll, towards the son, or the sun, or the gun, or the won...money.

One only follows gumption, to make the assumption, of which she fakes the consumption of.

LOVE.