You’ll Know This Is About You

I have an elastic heart. My heart stretches to let love in, and does so pretty easily. My heart has no walls, and no locks - it enjoys being full.  But once that love is gone, or you're gone, my heart bounces back like a rubber band. There is never any empty space. That space you once occupied is no longer there, my heart will still be just as full, only a little smaller, a little tighter - there are no voids in my heart. Only love. But just like a rubber band my heart can be stretched again. You may have to try a little harder next time. You may have to wiggle your way in. 

I Used To Have These Dreams About You...

I used to have these dreams about you. They were so vivid I’d wake up to see the blood rushing back to my skin where you had just let my arm go. I would open my eyes in mid sentence while mumbling something incoherently only to realize I was talking to a ghost. It felt like you were there, but every time I would try to grab your hand, or touch your hair, my arms would go right through you. Funny, you always had your rules. Why don’t  you ever take your shoes off while you walk around my head at night? You know my mind is made of hardwood floors. They creek with every step you take. At least close the door behind you so my thoughts don’t escape.

Waking up was always like walking away from a car crash. I would see my life flash before my eyes every morning, happy we’re still alive, but still holding regrets for those mistakes I made in the past. I would always have so much to tell you, but the nights never lasted long enough, and the dreams always ended too soon. I’m glad you’re here in this room so I no longer have to pretend I’m talkin… damn, I’m waking up again.

Finally got to paint both of my grandparents for their birthdays.

Are You Happy?

I never fully understood this question. Happy with what? Happiness sounds like an ending to me, "and they lived happily ever after." How can somebody who has more life to look forward to than to look back on honestly comprehend that question? Ask me in 50 years and maybe I'll have an answer for you. 

Lovers, Family, Friends + Strangers

We say goodbye, but no one ever leaves us.  They die on the outside, but still live within. Once we love them we become them, and all the people we’ve been with  become all the people we’ve been, and all the people we’ve been  become all the people we are. I know it’s hard to forget about them without losing a part of ourselves with it all. Can I love you and love all the other people you’ve loved? I wouldn’t know where to begin, but I’ve survived hurricanes much worse I’m sure I could weather again. It’s difficult to let go of old people we were when they’re the reasons why we are the crowd we’ve become, but I’ll try to calm the mob in you while adding to your parade, still careful to not let everyone you are  come undone.

We love the beauty of flowers so much that we rip them from the ground take them out the sun put them in a vase and then watch them die. Such an ostentatious display of decadence and decay for one to think they can plant a garden inside. But whatever it takes to reaffirm us that we possess just a little bit of light to make tulips bloom in a dimly lit living room for just long enough to give us a glimpse of all the wonder the world has to hide. For just a brief moment we kept something alive. Even if we knew that it would eventually fall apart, we tried and we held out hope because for that short amount of time it was beautiful and we thought we had something to do with it. We felt we were the reason why when those petals finally opened up despite all the darkness we provide.

Who shot ya!? Hey, Pac, I’m still on the case because ever since they murdered you none of us have been safe. Was it the police? Was it your homeboys? Was is the KKK? On the Vegas Strip after a fight I’m surprised nobody got it on tape. I remember being nine on the cusp of defiance, rejecting all the heroes I was assigned in my sociology class. I told my teacher they were all murderers or murdered or make-believe, then I played her “Only God Can Judge Me” before she ran to the stereo and threw my cd in the trash. And that’s when I knew you were the hero I’d look up to, somebody not in the history books someone real I could grasp. And then I saw the news you had been shot you had been killed. Then I came back to school and my teacher just laughed. She said I should pick better heroes, somebody not as aggressive, someone on a much better path. Then I had to remind her of Malcolm of Martin of Huey of Fred of Medgar etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, and told her it didn't matter, black heroes don't seem to last. Who shot ya! Hey, Pac, what are we gonna do? How are they gonna find who kills us if they can’t find who killed you? I Wonder If Heaven Got A Ghetto, verse three you sounded something like a prophet. You predicted 20 years ago that police would be out here killing us and we couldn't do anything to stop it. You said, “cops give a damn about a negro, pull the trigger, kill a nigga he's a hero” and now, “the streets are death row.” The cops are judge, jury and executioner and apparently every bit of it’s legal. And I don't know if Heaven’s got a ghetto, but I know its got a long line and there’s some people waiting to get in that could use your comforting because we know Tupac cared when nobody else did. I’m sure we keep you busy up there, we’ll make sure you died for something. Who shot ya? Hey, Pac, your killer is still on the loose. I don’t know if you heard, but they got BIG too. They’re killing everybody that we looked up to. And I know there’s people who will hear this that won’t understand “He was a thug” “He got what he deserved” “His music should have been banned” And those are the same people who fear us when we band together in death. They mock us they incite us when we riot or protest. Who shot ya!? Hey, Pac, maybe it’s best we never know. Jokes on them because they will never be immortalized and you will forever be the hero.

If 2015 taught me anything, it is that everything is fleeting. Even the recurring moments that we come to expect are a bunch of temporary events strung together over the course of a lifetime - If you're in a bad situation, don't worry it'll change. If you're in a good situation, don't worry it'll change. #newyearsameme

Before Drew Brees arrived in New Orleans and gentrified the Saints' quarterback position, Aaron Brooks held almost every franchise passing record, including being the only quarterback to bring the Saints a playoff victory. Also, after Katrina he was the only person on the team to speak out against the NFL and Tom Benson for the way they handled the players, and was blackballed by every other team for it (except the Raiders). I'm surprised most fans have let Aaron Brooks fade into Saints obscurity. #2 was the first Saints jersey I owned. I'm not saying he was the best to ever stand under center, but at least he deserves his own mediocre restaurant along with the other New Orleans quarterbacks his jersey hangs next to in the team hall of fame. ⚜️