She woke in the morning. She knew that her life had passed her by...
Love jah and live...
Luciano, "Love Jah & Live"
Sometimes, I feel the fear of,
uncertainty stinging clear.
And I can't help but ask
myself how much I'll let the fear
take the wheel and steer.
It's driven me before, and it seems to have a faint,
haunting mass appeal.
But lately I'm beginning to find that I,
should be the one behing the wheel.
What's worse than being insecure? A paranoid obsession with coolness that prevents you from publicly or privately acknowledging your insecurity. While intellectually, intuitively and in my my god fearing heart I know ain't nothing wrong with battling one's inner demons its always seemed cliched at best and oh so lame at worst. I don't want to be like anyone else but I hate the fact that I am. Beyond hating the fact that everyday I confront the fact that for example my pops in his nagging and unpredicatable pathology has repeatedly maligned me as despicably bougie, unlovable and worthless for that matter (which my hyper impressionable sensitive spirit was always predisposed to concluding) I wouldn't have to see the reflection of so many black girls with daddy issues in me. It's just so fucking unoriginal. It's like my life like yours in many respects is preordained to be shitty. And this is not another post about my dad. I wasn't even thinking about him. It's about me, about being afraid to cut off my annoying hair and being another bald headed black girl despite having cut my hair off as teen in boarding school and worn it confidently short most of my time at Spelman, about worshiping the sun while being afraid of getting too dark -color consciousness is a bitch- and about a whole lot more. I have so much things to say right now, the words fit perfectly in my quick to snip mouth but I won't let them go. Maybe that's why it's so hard for me to write. My mouth's a fucking traffic jam; an endless bottleneck on the way to God knows where but hopefully somewhere better than here.
the anti jazz juner