click your heels three times

it's 4:45 in the morning and i'm caught in this weird reality manifesting from a combination of coffee that's probably too strong for a two beer queer like me, reading grim comparative politics theories on global poverty, and looking at the same empty lobby for the past 5 hours (work-study in my dorm's lobby). i snuck out to take a couple quick drags of a cigarette from some friends that for some reason haven't had the desire to find a bed and get in it...but god damn the wind was blowing hard.

i came back in and Nas' "Blunt Ashes" came on my itunes, a song where he intro's with "i'm gonna get blazed and tell ya'll some stories"...whatever was on his mind was dope enough for me to listen to a few times over.

my mind state right now is high enough on its own, and like i said the wind was blowing hard...hard enough to carry with it a few stories i'll give to you, shit that i think about on a cold lonely night;

i stopped judging people by conventional standards when i found out the truth about the midget that lives across the street from me. she smokes weed and distributes it to 18-25 year olds. A grown ass married woman with two kids and she doesn't even have her shit together, waste of life...so wasted that when i would fundraise for school trips that all the other adults on the block knew were bullshit - she somehow knew that a trip to Hershey Park meant meant the world to me and she'd drop me a twenty and smile and say "johnny you can forget the wrapping paper or candy bars, i don't want 'em." So wasted that when she came to the ice cream shop i was scooping at she knew damn well her eight year old son didn't want anything to do with a kiddie cone and she would order him a mother fucking large and let him get as many gummy bears and reese's pieces as his fat ass pleased. So wasted that she ran a YMCA camp where all the down-trodden, abused, lonely, kids from broken homes shared cabins with priviliged kids from the suburbs and in those woods became a family tighter and more alive than any Cleaver's or Brady's. She was just so damn wasted that even though she was like 3 feet tall no amount of double takes, elevated gas pedals, or scared little kids kept her from sitting out late nights on her porch with a charming smile and eyes that saw through all the bullshit.

at the concert i went to last week Nas said, "if you're from the streets i love you." He may not know it but he loves Tim. Bravest ten year old i'll ever know - he forever holds a spot in my heart, and if there is a God that for some reason has to send messages through the pain of others, my message came from Tim. When I was six I woke up from heart surgery in a hospital room filled with family, next door neighbors, my kindergarten assistant teacher, and a few other random people I was lucky enough to be coccooned by throughout my childhood. Never mind, I'm not even going to try and make it dramatic because it is what it is - I had a million people around me showing me all the love I needed and the kid I shared a room with was a ten year old that is paralyzed to this day from a stray bullet that caught him in the spine. But "shared a room" isn't the right phrase because there was no competition, he was going it alone, no legs to walk on physically or figuratively. His eyes held a lonely and scared look at the prospect of going through his life in a wheelchair with nobody to push that i wish upon no one. FUCK.

yea that wind's blowing. Sometimes it's just a cool breeze that beckons me to daydream under the clouds. But tonight it' s cold and it's carrying stories that i'm feeling under my skin - a little shudder, cringe, squint my eyes, i feel it...i dont know where it's coming from but it's definitely somewhere very very real, the soul of this world methinks.