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
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anger. Show all posts
Monday, April 01, 2013
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Simple Truths
If we are going to give public speeches, my fellow Africans, we should really learn more about conjugation and plural tenses of words. "Peoples, I were disappointed in the lack of fishes in the lake."
If you name your son "Marquis" or your daughter "Shaqua-anything", don't EXPECT to be sitting at a Harvard entrance interview in 18 years. I'm not judgin', I'm just tellin' you.
Your shit does indeed stink. Remember that.
An object's value never exceeds what the dumbest person you encounter is willing to pay (or do) for it. Not a penny more.
You never know how important a father is to a child until you meet a child with a lousy one. The proof is in the pudding.
Fuck what you say, I still find it amazing that you can dial 11 digits and speak to the person of your choice. It's fascinating to me.
...Or for that matter send a note across country for under 40 cents.
I love clumsy bitches named "Grace".
Most dudes act extra appreciative when receiving head, even when it's lackluster. We do it because we know it only takes the slightest thing to give a woman any excuse not to put the dick in her mouth.
The golden time of day: when you shut the fuck up and I'm reading something interesting.
If I was an NCAA basketball team, my record would have been 21-10, with an RPI of 68. Yeah, I woulda been on the bubble in February.
You knew the answer to that bullshit before you asked it.
Everyday, at some point in the day, I buss a freestyle. It's usually pretty wack, but I test it out, just in case I run up on a sucka MC.
If you could get away with it, without ANY chance of getting caught, you'd do it. That ain't guilt, potna, that's the fear of getting caught.
I got a gang of student loans to be able to do a job I'm positive I coulda done straight outta high school.
If you don't really fuckin' believe it, why should I?
That's All I Got,
KZ
If you name your son "Marquis" or your daughter "Shaqua-anything", don't EXPECT to be sitting at a Harvard entrance interview in 18 years. I'm not judgin', I'm just tellin' you.
Your shit does indeed stink. Remember that.
An object's value never exceeds what the dumbest person you encounter is willing to pay (or do) for it. Not a penny more.
You never know how important a father is to a child until you meet a child with a lousy one. The proof is in the pudding.
Fuck what you say, I still find it amazing that you can dial 11 digits and speak to the person of your choice. It's fascinating to me.
...Or for that matter send a note across country for under 40 cents.
I love clumsy bitches named "Grace".
Most dudes act extra appreciative when receiving head, even when it's lackluster. We do it because we know it only takes the slightest thing to give a woman any excuse not to put the dick in her mouth.
The golden time of day: when you shut the fuck up and I'm reading something interesting.
If I was an NCAA basketball team, my record would have been 21-10, with an RPI of 68. Yeah, I woulda been on the bubble in February.
You knew the answer to that bullshit before you asked it.
Everyday, at some point in the day, I buss a freestyle. It's usually pretty wack, but I test it out, just in case I run up on a sucka MC.
If you could get away with it, without ANY chance of getting caught, you'd do it. That ain't guilt, potna, that's the fear of getting caught.
I got a gang of student loans to be able to do a job I'm positive I coulda done straight outta high school.
If you don't really fuckin' believe it, why should I?
That's All I Got,
KZ
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