The strangest occurrence… to me it is. As for you? Well, you decide. I was driving down Bearss avenue and I looked over to my left, and there it was… It was a group of them; about six maybe seven. Giant black men walking in single file. I stand a solid 6 feet and the shortest of the group could have easily towered over me by several inches. They could’ve been a basketball team for all I know. Maybe they just finished playing a street game at a park around the corner somewhere? What struck a chord with me was that the tallest of the bunch was last and the shortest was in front.
It was a living spectacle of man’s evolution.
How no one caught this brilliant sight is beyond question, but it doesn’t matter. I was the one who made the discovery. I should’ve taken a picture but a camera is something I do not own at that moment in time-nor any other. It would be a wise investment in the future.
Back to the walk of giants…
Where were they going, and why in a single file? They didn’t seem to be in a hurry. It was a casual strut. That’s how it was back in those times-just casual. This was ‘the pre-times’. These were the days earlier when money and the everyday stress did not exist. There were no mirrors to check how much strain life has caused; except the reflection of a puddle. The only pressure was trying to stay away from the scorching sun. And where the next meal came from. And what broad they were going to fuck. I’m sure there was battles in-between, but what’s life without a few scrapes?
You might perceive this living evolution as something in the racist group, correct? I don’t blame you for thinking that, but I am going to speak in my frankness. The black folks make fun of the white folks in just about every stand-up routine that comes to mind. And everybody laughs. So don’t take it as an offense if this is what I saw and make light of ‘my discovery’. Let me be the first and hopefully not the last to say this: The war of Race & Religion will remain a never-ending conflict among man today. Hear me now and listen to me later! I also believe that political correctness should be extinct. Those two words should never have any carbon 14. If it should happen that it be rediscovered-rebury it. And make no note of it.
If there is an issue with this… call the complain department. ‘You’ of the general mass generated this confusion.
What is the meaning of love? You can look it up in a dictionary and see how it’s used in a sentence. That would be the robotic way of going about it. Even then the definition would be synonym to conventional. Especially through the eyes of the average. The word Love should be eliminated completely from all books of study. Every one of us carries the eternal knowledge of love. Love is a feeling then it becomes action. It shouldn’t be confused with passion or desire, or maybe it does have something to do with it. Love is always the strongest choice. Use it. It is king.
Love does not necessary mean affection for an individual. I assume you know this. I had difficulties understanding this radical four letter word. I never knew its full meaning. There’s a sub-text underneath the hard shell. When it’s discovered then all possibilities are endless… good or evil. But it has to be understood… fully. And embrace it like a new-born. Nurture it with positive vibes, and the same can go in the opposite direction. The choice is yours.
When it comes to love… action speaks louder than words. Plain and pure F’in simple. It’s the action that adds the cherry to the cake. On top of the icing of course.
A conversation took place on a rainy Sunday afternoon, and one of them couldn’t figure out why they were pursuing a career that didn’t quite seem to be going in their favor. This was a conversation between two actors…a veteran and a novice. Within the abyss of confusion a gym is discovered. And that gym is… the raw truth of love.
“I’m just going to try to accept it so I don’t get hurt anymore,” said the veteran. “That’s like saying you’re giving up on love. Don’t turn cold to anything that makes you happy. Don’t turn into me,” replied the novice.
“Like you? Explain.”
“I’ve given up on something that makes me happy, and that turned me cold. Don’t do that. Love is a powerful force. It can make someone’s life worth living or losing. It can heal the soul and obliterate it. Love drives people. Be it love for money, freedom, power, fame, lust, or love itself. People give love a bad name. They are so driven by it; they are blinded by the consequences and infliction on those who love them. It drives a wedge between people and friendships. It burns bridges that were initially built on trust and yes, love. Love blows. I love my animals. I love my immediate family. I even love my friends in a friendly way-but romantically? No one gets to hold that key ever again. Ever,” explained the novice.
“I don’t know if what I’m doing is out of love.”
“It’s your love of something. We’re all driven by love,” said the novice.
“I don’t think I actually said I love it. I don’t like to contradict myself.”
“I never said you did.”
“So if I never verbally say it is it internal then?” asked the veteran.
“Yes,” the novice said. “It doesn’t have to be said to be true.”
That was the meat of the conversation. The goal is to enlighten the millions upon millions of ignorant mortals in today’s’ society. I was in the murky tar pits. Stuck, as to why I choose to go to a certain destination. I realize that it is out of… Love.
This is where the American Dream led me. Back to the harsh humidity of the south where I grew up. The worst part is… I’m approaching middle age and dwelling under my parent’s roof. My parents had since moved into a new home in a sub-division by the time I arrived. So the question is… Did I really come home? Florida is a carbon copy-cat of California (which is where I was living for the past 10 years.) and so whatever the west creates the south-east must do the same. It’s an unhealthy competition. It doesn’t necessary apply to the beast in the east. But when it comes to the tax-payer’s money who are we hurting? The ‘average joe’ tax-payer. Who else should do the suffering, right?
I am a chronic pursuer of the dramatic art and have been for almost 20 years. It has been a journey and still paying the dues to the devil. Why quit now when I’ve gone this far? A true artist is constantly taking risks. Only to benefit himself in the long run, and a tear-drop of luck to the big time. Hopefully those risks don’t land him in the big house.
Rambling and rambling it seems, correct? Well… enough of that! Let’s get on with it.
The life of the ‘average joe’ is not the life for me… I need it fast and I need it now! Why be content with mediocrity? Living for the weekend. A weeks’ vacation from a mundane job. Is that living? Living the dream means you live it 24 hours a day. Seven days a week. No rest. The dream is to get beyond the ‘average joe’. The white picket fence. Walking the dog when you come home from the grind. Waiting for your kid(s) at their school bus stop. Checking the mail. Eating supper at 6pm. I could go on with the death-list. It’s more like a will than anything else. Unfortunately, this is the atmosphere I live in. It’s a prison that I need to break out of.
Humanity somehow lost its balls after 1990. It has gone down the toilets of reality television shows and Hollywood films made up of CGI actors. “Fortune Favors the Bold” is a quote that my acting teacher in Los Angeles used to say to me. “What happened?” I say to myself. Ever since Bill Clinton played the saxophone on prime-time television it all went downhill from there. It made it okay for Americans to think that it’s cool to be a hip president, and all the problems will be solved just by the sake of being jazzy on a prime-time network.
The birth of an outlaw must be conceived and groomed to make the proper changes this world needs. Justin Beiber doesn’t fit the bill! The internet generation was just born yesterday with their snotty entitlement attitude. That makes them obsolete. If I butcher the national anthem the way Christina Aguilera did, will that make me a star? If I dress up in a two-piece suit made of meat, will that make me a star? Maybe if I give myself a groovy name like GOO-GOO-GAGA should do the trick. I think the Occupy Wall Street chumps should occupy a book and put away the PSP. Were they the result of the hippie revolution? Oh dear God! I think a handful of the hippies took the brown acid at Woodstock! ”Gee Whiz Wally… some sexual waste of a revolution, huh?”
Continuing and ending at the sewer plant…
Magazines of the day had an edge. Like a cult following. And now… it has gone mainstream. The testosterone sacks have dried up into a raisin. All for the sake of a green pasture and glossy pages. Billy the Kid kept his edge and lived his life the way he desired. Yes, he paid the price for taking risks, and if he were asked to do it over again. His answer will be ‘Yes’. He would do it over because his life was adventurous. Far from the average joe. And because of that… he is still a legend.
Why be conventional when you can be unconventional?
Why be ordinary when you can be extraordinary?
This may seem odd to the average way of looking for employment, or rather… looking for a dream. Is there really a definition for sanity? I believe I acquire the raw power and the entertaining ability to make a difference within the pages of Rolling Stone Magazine. I always have two empty jugs to piss in. That way I don’t have to get up to go to the bathroom. I’m all yours… a slave to the man, Jann Wenner. (I am sure he has a grand sense of humor when he finishes reading this. Or if it’s one of his assistant(s). Or an intern-hopefully not Monica Lewinsky)
I was watching the last 24 hours of Hunter S. Thompson. I was just curious what the man’s last hours were all about. A strange feeling washed over me. One of those un-explained mysteries… to my surprise it was Hunter’s birthday!
It must be a sign…
I have the great pleasure of having my latest write-up on Randy De La O’s boxing blog who is the subject for my interview. Here is the link….enjoy!