About 10 years ago, I approached a group of my friends for a project that I wanted them to work on with me. The project was going to be a collection of essays about the black male experience at age 30. I was going to pick a series of topics, each topic would comprise a chapter and all five of us would approach that topic from our own perspective. The name of the project was "Apologies and Other Useless Bullshit". Apologies was going to be the cornerstone topic, due to my deep disdain for America's thirst to make people apologize, to watch them be weak so they could have the satisfaction of forgiving them and relish how powerful that made them feel. My attitude towards apologies have remained pretty static.
I understand the power dynamic between men and women and the subjugation that women have had to endure throughout history and up to and including present day. I do understand that the objectification of women is a continuing problem that manifests itself in sexual assaults, domestic abuse, unequal earnings, the perpetuation of stereotypes that reinforce the glass ceiling, pornography, and general misogyny. I fucking get it, but I promise you, the President was not trying to put California's attorney general in a sexualized context. The dude is kinda corny and he wanted to give her a genuine compliment. I'm not an Oba.ma water carrier like most of the people I know, but this shit is pretty innocuous. I am pissed that he apologized, though.
I'd like to see the objectification of PEOPLE to stop in general. As a black man, if you feel like I'm not sufficiently "in check", I'm a menace to society. If I'm domesticated to your liking, I'm a tool to do your bidding. If you outnumber me, I'm ignorable. If I outnumber you, and you can't stop making reference to being outnumbered. You can't differentiate between who I am and what I represent. If you've been paying attention since I've returned to the blogging world, you'll notice a pattern in this part of my argument. Symbolism once again rears it's ugly head.
I'm bored.
KZ
Saturday, April 06, 2013
Friday, April 05, 2013
Home and Home
Hola, motherfuckers!
I'm still mad, but the further my distance from social networking, the better I feel. I'm no scientist, but I believe there is a correlation, however specious that connection may be due to lack of serious study.
Anyway, bastards, since I haven't blogged in quite some time, I need to give you some context you can use to frame what I write. Some things have changed. I no longer live or work in Satan's Anus. I work and live back in my original home town. With my "new" job, where I've been for a couple of years now, I've greatly increased my stress level and my responsibility level. Because of my responsibility, I make powerful enemies on a regular basis. These are people who are politically connected locally and nationally, who are petty and ego-driven, who don't give a fuck what they leave in their wake. They have effectively killed the last vestiges of my political interest.
In addition, being back home means that old shit, shit that I'd left behind and quite frankly forgotten about, resurfaces from time to time. I see a familiar face and I gravitate to that person, only to remember that it's a motherfucker that betrayed me or a chick I dated that ended badly. Or just an unpleasant person to be around. My fucking memory is betraying me, causing me problems. I have essentially one friend here, aside from my wife, and a bunch a cats that are supposed to have my back that gossip and talk shit.
The best thing about my change is that my wife gets to be close to her family. I have no family here. They all left the D a while ago. The black community is here, somewhat. Culturally, it's been great to be back, but I really despise most of these Africans. That goes back to the symbols I talked about in my last post. There is very little distinction between reality and a placeholder/symbol that's in place to represent the real. Yes, this is a recurring theme.
That's all for now. I'll be back,
KZ
I'm still mad, but the further my distance from social networking, the better I feel. I'm no scientist, but I believe there is a correlation, however specious that connection may be due to lack of serious study.
Anyway, bastards, since I haven't blogged in quite some time, I need to give you some context you can use to frame what I write. Some things have changed. I no longer live or work in Satan's Anus. I work and live back in my original home town. With my "new" job, where I've been for a couple of years now, I've greatly increased my stress level and my responsibility level. Because of my responsibility, I make powerful enemies on a regular basis. These are people who are politically connected locally and nationally, who are petty and ego-driven, who don't give a fuck what they leave in their wake. They have effectively killed the last vestiges of my political interest.
In addition, being back home means that old shit, shit that I'd left behind and quite frankly forgotten about, resurfaces from time to time. I see a familiar face and I gravitate to that person, only to remember that it's a motherfucker that betrayed me or a chick I dated that ended badly. Or just an unpleasant person to be around. My fucking memory is betraying me, causing me problems. I have essentially one friend here, aside from my wife, and a bunch a cats that are supposed to have my back that gossip and talk shit.
The best thing about my change is that my wife gets to be close to her family. I have no family here. They all left the D a while ago. The black community is here, somewhat. Culturally, it's been great to be back, but I really despise most of these Africans. That goes back to the symbols I talked about in my last post. There is very little distinction between reality and a placeholder/symbol that's in place to represent the real. Yes, this is a recurring theme.
That's all for now. I'll be back,
KZ
Monday, April 01, 2013
I Think I Might Have Spoken Too Soon
What up, compadres! I was chomping (champing?) at the bit, ready to write my little heart out. I realized something: I can't write just yet. I'm too angry. I'm mad at everything and everybody. At the heart of it all is being fully, completely surrounded by ignorance. I know that statement makes me look a) pompous; b) unaware of my own scholastic limitations or; c) FUCKING INSANE.
What type of fully grown, adult man, out of his twenties wears a baseball cap with stickers on the bill like a fucking 12 year old imbecile? What type of grown man has a baseball cap for every outfit that they wear, and every outfit they wear has a gotdamn sports logo on it? Who the fuck are these men? How do I know them? Why do I still know them? I don't have to. We have nothing in common, and yet I allow myself to engage them on a daily basis because that's what passes for men these days. I don't have an adult friend that isn't still in some sort of arrested development.
I'm sick of credential-ism and the fake assed sense of accomplishment that follows a large contingent of my "friends". They love to ride their own dicks or the dicks of those who move in similar circles. I don't brag about shit. Ever. I spent a lot of times planting false flags online, bragging about shit, ready to be called on it. I never was, not one time. That's when I realized nobody knew me well enough to get that I was faking it or they didn't care. I couldn't figure out which was worse.
I'm sick of the trappings. Symbolism and the constant presenting of symbols as actual achievement rather than actual achievement. Because one possesses something doesn't mean that thing is worth possessing. Wearing of that symbol or presenting that avatar is meant to convey value. Because you possess or display that symbol, I'm supposed to have some feeling about you. When I fail to do so, it means something is wrong with me. There are a great many things wrong with me. My failure to give you credit for your possession or association with something that is meant to symbolize quality is purposeful, not a deficiency. You fucking suck. You don't symbolically suck. You actually are subpar and I refuse to recognize you as otherwise because of your associations.
These are the reasons it's too early for me to blog. I'm too fucking angry.
KZ
What type of fully grown, adult man, out of his twenties wears a baseball cap with stickers on the bill like a fucking 12 year old imbecile? What type of grown man has a baseball cap for every outfit that they wear, and every outfit they wear has a gotdamn sports logo on it? Who the fuck are these men? How do I know them? Why do I still know them? I don't have to. We have nothing in common, and yet I allow myself to engage them on a daily basis because that's what passes for men these days. I don't have an adult friend that isn't still in some sort of arrested development.
I'm sick of credential-ism and the fake assed sense of accomplishment that follows a large contingent of my "friends". They love to ride their own dicks or the dicks of those who move in similar circles. I don't brag about shit. Ever. I spent a lot of times planting false flags online, bragging about shit, ready to be called on it. I never was, not one time. That's when I realized nobody knew me well enough to get that I was faking it or they didn't care. I couldn't figure out which was worse.
I'm sick of the trappings. Symbolism and the constant presenting of symbols as actual achievement rather than actual achievement. Because one possesses something doesn't mean that thing is worth possessing. Wearing of that symbol or presenting that avatar is meant to convey value. Because you possess or display that symbol, I'm supposed to have some feeling about you. When I fail to do so, it means something is wrong with me. There are a great many things wrong with me. My failure to give you credit for your possession or association with something that is meant to symbolize quality is purposeful, not a deficiency. You fucking suck. You don't symbolically suck. You actually are subpar and I refuse to recognize you as otherwise because of your associations.
These are the reasons it's too early for me to blog. I'm too fucking angry.
KZ
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