Hello folks! How's it going? I needed a little forum to talk about politics a little bit and what I'm feeling right now.
This has been a miserable period of time for me personally when it comes to politics. I was wary of O.bam.a when he started (it's documented on this very blog), but I held my nose and voted, as I've always done. I gave the benefit of the doubt to this man, like I have many people before him. For the first time, I was given the opportunity to vote for a black man for President. Shit, he wasn't Alan Keyes or Clarence Thomas, so at least he wasn't the worst choice as our first black President. I've been doubting that wisdom for a while now.
This two party nonsense has got to stop. We literally have the choice between out and out racist, misogynist, gay-bashing xenophobes, who feed off each others vileness, and covert racists and misogynists, who are dim-witted and cowardly on many fronts, that are too consumed by guilt to outwardly embrace who they really are. And I believe both are working in tandem to ensure absolutely nothing changes for the people who fund this experiment we call "our country".
I most certainly will never, ever vote for the Re.publi.can ticket, but I'm done with the Dem.o.crats too. It's over. I will not vote for another supporter of cowardice and avarice again. I will most certainly vote my conscience, and not give a fuck who actually "wins" because I have been convinced there is ABSOLUTELY NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE PARTIES. The De.mo.cr.ats are frauds. I will not jump up and down because you don't call me n*gger to my face, but you look at me and think "n*gger" and treat me as though I should be grateful that you supposedly treat me as an equal. That's a lie. You patronize the fuck out of me, you are definitely not looking out for my best interests. I know this, I've known it for a while and I have no one to blame but myself. I am an unabashed liberal, and I'll vote for liberal candidates, period.
Y'all can have the mainstream. I'll be swimming in a different stream.
KZ
Monday, March 15, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Liquid Courage
Good day, townsfolks! What's good? I'm a little behind on updating this thing, but I'm here now. I really did have a hell of a lot to write about, but I've forgotten it as soon as I sat down to write.
It is a forgone conclusion that I'm bored. Work sucks, I can't find a new job, I'm in limbo stuck out in the boondocks west of Ann Arbor. I'm not excited in my life or in my career. My wife is fantastic, but we're both bored with shit in general. My saving grace for the past couple of days has been the rain.
Rain melts the fucking snow and that's good enough for me. Sunshine is rare so I'll take the rain as my melting agent.
That's a sad testament when the rain is the only thing you're looking forward to.
OK, back to work folks.
KZ
It is a forgone conclusion that I'm bored. Work sucks, I can't find a new job, I'm in limbo stuck out in the boondocks west of Ann Arbor. I'm not excited in my life or in my career. My wife is fantastic, but we're both bored with shit in general. My saving grace for the past couple of days has been the rain.
Rain melts the fucking snow and that's good enough for me. Sunshine is rare so I'll take the rain as my melting agent.
That's a sad testament when the rain is the only thing you're looking forward to.
OK, back to work folks.
KZ
Monday, January 25, 2010
The Gun Show
Hey peoples, what's good? I just had a new experience this weekend. I've gone 39 years without ever having held a loaded gun, let alone firing one. And now I'm one step away from being licensed to carry a concealed one. Let me tell you how this happened.
In the summer between my 10th and 11th grade years, my best friend Rodney, accidentally shot himself in the eye. Rodney was a smaller than average kid. Getting fucked with on G.P. just for being small. He was hella cool, and hella smart, but frankly he got sick of being pushed around. He had an Honda Elite scooter and some hard cats on the block decided he didn't deserve it. They let him know the next time he rode past on it, it was theirs. He copped a gun from another set of hard cats on the block. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing with it and he caught a bad one in the eye. I'm still not exactly sure it was an accident, but that's the story I got.
Since, and actually before, then, I had a real antipathy towards guns. Cowards tools, I thought, so I stayed clear of them.
A few years back I got the idea that it wouldn't be a bad idea to have one, because shit, you never know how certain things may play out. We got some bad men out there with some bad intentions, and it you're on the wrong side of their way of thinking, you might become a victim. I was reluctant because then I'd become what I've always hated, a conspiracy minded nutjob. I do happen to live in the town where Tim.o.thy Mc.Vei.gh and the Nic.hol.s Brothers conspired to take down the Fed.eral Building in OK City.
The more I thought about it, and talked to friends about it, the more natural the progression seemed to come. So I signed up for the 8 hour permit to Carry a Concealed Weapon class. I told the instructor that I was a novice and ended up getting a little private instruction away from the class. It was strange to pull that trigger for the first time. There was a lot of power and a slight feeling of dread. After a while, I got into the groove.
After taking the written test (25 out of 26!), the entire class engaged in intruder cappin' scenarios on the gun range. That shit was actually fun, especially the yelling before shooting to give the intruder a chance to run. "Get the fuck outta my house, scumbag!" Fantastic.
In short, it was a great way to release stress, even though I still doubt I'll actually carry a gun around. The sad part is after one class, they'd actually let me.
Peace! (hehehehe)
KZ
In the summer between my 10th and 11th grade years, my best friend Rodney, accidentally shot himself in the eye. Rodney was a smaller than average kid. Getting fucked with on G.P. just for being small. He was hella cool, and hella smart, but frankly he got sick of being pushed around. He had an Honda Elite scooter and some hard cats on the block decided he didn't deserve it. They let him know the next time he rode past on it, it was theirs. He copped a gun from another set of hard cats on the block. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing with it and he caught a bad one in the eye. I'm still not exactly sure it was an accident, but that's the story I got.
Since, and actually before, then, I had a real antipathy towards guns. Cowards tools, I thought, so I stayed clear of them.
A few years back I got the idea that it wouldn't be a bad idea to have one, because shit, you never know how certain things may play out. We got some bad men out there with some bad intentions, and it you're on the wrong side of their way of thinking, you might become a victim. I was reluctant because then I'd become what I've always hated, a conspiracy minded nutjob. I do happen to live in the town where Tim.o.thy Mc.Vei.gh and the Nic.hol.s Brothers conspired to take down the Fed.eral Building in OK City.
The more I thought about it, and talked to friends about it, the more natural the progression seemed to come. So I signed up for the 8 hour permit to Carry a Concealed Weapon class. I told the instructor that I was a novice and ended up getting a little private instruction away from the class. It was strange to pull that trigger for the first time. There was a lot of power and a slight feeling of dread. After a while, I got into the groove.
After taking the written test (25 out of 26!), the entire class engaged in intruder cappin' scenarios on the gun range. That shit was actually fun, especially the yelling before shooting to give the intruder a chance to run. "Get the fuck outta my house, scumbag!" Fantastic.
In short, it was a great way to release stress, even though I still doubt I'll actually carry a gun around. The sad part is after one class, they'd actually let me.
Peace! (hehehehe)
KZ
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Whoosah!
Ay, yo! How's everybody? I hope you had a good MLK Day. I did, because it included not taking my black ass to work. Of course, everyone else at my job had to work, but I opted out. I think Martin would've wanted it that way.
My attitude towards work isn't as bad as it has been, though. Because I have no pending interviews, no oars in the water, no prospects whatsoever, I don't have an anxious feeling at work anymore. I used to be irritated, like "when are they gonna call me so I can tell my boss 'fuck you'?". Now? Since I'm not waiting for anything, work is just fucking work. And as bad as it gets, it's just something you gotta do. I still think it's just for the time being, but really, who knows?
I take solace in the fact that it's not the actual work. Like most instances, the issue is less the work and more who you have to answer to. I have to answer to not only my boss (fuck that guy), but the community at large (fuck those people). The combination is horrible. If one or the other was worth a fuck, the job wouldn't be so bad. My boss's insistence on sending out 5 staff people to rescue a cat from a tree (not literally, but you get the idea) is frustrating. And the public's insistence on asking for staff in the buildings department to rescue their cat from a tree is frustrating. I can't tell them "no" because it would piss off my boss, and without proper back up from your supervisor you're done. If he made the call that we're not getting involved in shit that our department's not responsible for anymore, the job would work as it should. But he won't cuz he's a chickenshit and when I ask him to do it he wants to talk about his philosophy on governing. Fuck that guy. I hope he chokes on his own vomit in his sleep.
KZ
My attitude towards work isn't as bad as it has been, though. Because I have no pending interviews, no oars in the water, no prospects whatsoever, I don't have an anxious feeling at work anymore. I used to be irritated, like "when are they gonna call me so I can tell my boss 'fuck you'?". Now? Since I'm not waiting for anything, work is just fucking work. And as bad as it gets, it's just something you gotta do. I still think it's just for the time being, but really, who knows?
I take solace in the fact that it's not the actual work. Like most instances, the issue is less the work and more who you have to answer to. I have to answer to not only my boss (fuck that guy), but the community at large (fuck those people). The combination is horrible. If one or the other was worth a fuck, the job wouldn't be so bad. My boss's insistence on sending out 5 staff people to rescue a cat from a tree (not literally, but you get the idea) is frustrating. And the public's insistence on asking for staff in the buildings department to rescue their cat from a tree is frustrating. I can't tell them "no" because it would piss off my boss, and without proper back up from your supervisor you're done. If he made the call that we're not getting involved in shit that our department's not responsible for anymore, the job would work as it should. But he won't cuz he's a chickenshit and when I ask him to do it he wants to talk about his philosophy on governing. Fuck that guy. I hope he chokes on his own vomit in his sleep.
KZ
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Stay Classy, Zedediah!
I love complaining. I love complaining more than I love my mother's cooking, and that's saying something. I complain about everything in the midst of doing anything! "Damn, this pussy is kinda tight. And it's awfully wet. But it really could be tighter and wetter." I know, I suck. But 2009 was really something to complain about.
In general it was a fucked up year for me. Housing woes, job search woes, money problems, health scares, staff issues, boss issues, dumb ass constituents, and lousy luck overall. I've had trite, cliched moments happen to me, that I should have seen coming, but didn't. I've had one in a thousand type things happen hat would ONLY happen to me. For better or for worse here I am.
I'm not any more humbled, cuz really, fuck humility. And I'm not more determined to turn over a new leaf, cuz really, fuck leaves. I'm not going to do anything but the shit that has made me quasi-successful to this point and understand that there are, in fact, things that I can't change.
With that being said, I'd like to wish both of you readers a Happy New Year and hope that you party like a muthafucka to bury this lousy fucking year.
Peace,
KZ
P.S. I didn't get that fucking Raleigh job, either.
In general it was a fucked up year for me. Housing woes, job search woes, money problems, health scares, staff issues, boss issues, dumb ass constituents, and lousy luck overall. I've had trite, cliched moments happen to me, that I should have seen coming, but didn't. I've had one in a thousand type things happen hat would ONLY happen to me. For better or for worse here I am.
I'm not any more humbled, cuz really, fuck humility. And I'm not more determined to turn over a new leaf, cuz really, fuck leaves. I'm not going to do anything but the shit that has made me quasi-successful to this point and understand that there are, in fact, things that I can't change.
With that being said, I'd like to wish both of you readers a Happy New Year and hope that you party like a muthafucka to bury this lousy fucking year.
Peace,
KZ
P.S. I didn't get that fucking Raleigh job, either.
Tuesday, December 08, 2009
Sucker Time
Hey everybody! What's good? There's nothing going on with me. I got a rejection letter from Baltimore, I'm waiting on what Raleigh has to say, so in the meantime I am where I am. Satan's Anus is horrible still, but at least I don't have to LIVE and work here. One out of two ain't bad.
The interview I had in Raleigh right before Thanksgiving was interesting. Interesting in the fact that the guy I interviewed with reminds me of my current boss (bad) , and one of the people who would possibly be under me tried to compliment me by calling me "articulate". He better hope I don't get the gig. I'm watching his ass already.
Otherwise I'm just trying to cope with Sucker Time and not get suckered too badly by fake deals, mall related scams, thievery, debauchery, and/or general chicanery. We really do spend too much fucking money on worthless shit during this time of year. I genuinely can't remember what I got for Christmas last year, though I'm sure I was pleased with it at the time. That means I likely didn't need it. I'm not 6, it's ok to pass on my gift, I'll survive. I have yet to talk to another person in my family that feels that same. So I'm out here at Sucker Time trying to do my best, just like everyone else.
Peace,
KZ
The interview I had in Raleigh right before Thanksgiving was interesting. Interesting in the fact that the guy I interviewed with reminds me of my current boss (bad) , and one of the people who would possibly be under me tried to compliment me by calling me "articulate". He better hope I don't get the gig. I'm watching his ass already.
Otherwise I'm just trying to cope with Sucker Time and not get suckered too badly by fake deals, mall related scams, thievery, debauchery, and/or general chicanery. We really do spend too much fucking money on worthless shit during this time of year. I genuinely can't remember what I got for Christmas last year, though I'm sure I was pleased with it at the time. That means I likely didn't need it. I'm not 6, it's ok to pass on my gift, I'll survive. I have yet to talk to another person in my family that feels that same. So I'm out here at Sucker Time trying to do my best, just like everyone else.
Peace,
KZ
Friday, November 13, 2009
Slaying of murder witness in Detroit leaves trail of fear | detnews.com | The Detroit News
Slaying of murder witness in Detroit leaves trail of fear | detnews.com | The Detroit News
A word of advice: If you're not going to raise your kids, please drown them in a fucking bathtub before they kill mine.
KZ
A word of advice: If you're not going to raise your kids, please drown them in a fucking bathtub before they kill mine.
KZ
Monday, November 09, 2009
Village Idiot
So, I'm moving right? Second weekend in a row. First my stuff from Satan's Anus, then her stuff from the D. This weekend was the stuff from the D. All's well. Our team, after initially flaking out, comes together and the move is swift. Even though we lost the keys for about 40 minutes in the D, the move was still a rousing success. Now to get the stuff from point A to point B. I got the personnel and I got the will. No biggie, right?
Remember having sex as a virgin? When I tried to get this truck through that hole, it got stuck. The only road to get in and out of the village was clogged by the town's new black guy and his fucking moving truck. For an hour and a half.
The pint sized cop came up to me and said "I guess that was a dumb mistake, hunh?" "Excuse me?" "I guess that was a dumb mistake, hunh?" I turned my back to him, because saying "Fuck you Fidget!" would be impolitic. I guess it would be a dumb mistake if a) The height of the truck was written somewhere, anywhere in or on the truck so I could make a comparison, or b) I'd gotten stuck last week when I drove through this same fucking tunnel in a gotdamn moving truck!
So after paying the tow truck driver to wench me out, and getting the citation from the Fidget (fucking midget) for "ignoring a traffic control device", and filling up the gotdamn gigantic gas tank with diesel and the cost of renting the fucking truck, it would have been cheaper to hire movers and have me and TAD sipping Pina Coladas in our new digs waiting for our furniture to come.
I was a gotdamn newsstory, a one day oddity in the village. And a story to tell my kids.
Peace,
KZ
The pint sized cop came up to me and said "I guess that was a dumb mistake, hunh?" "Excuse me?" "I guess that was a dumb mistake, hunh?" I turned my back to him, because saying "Fuck you Fidget!" would be impolitic. I guess it would be a dumb mistake if a) The height of the truck was written somewhere, anywhere in or on the truck so I could make a comparison, or b) I'd gotten stuck last week when I drove through this same fucking tunnel in a gotdamn moving truck!
So after paying the tow truck driver to wench me out, and getting the citation from the Fidget (fucking midget) for "ignoring a traffic control device", and filling up the gotdamn gigantic gas tank with diesel and the cost of renting the fucking truck, it would have been cheaper to hire movers and have me and TAD sipping Pina Coladas in our new digs waiting for our furniture to come.
I was a gotdamn newsstory, a one day oddity in the village. And a story to tell my kids.
Peace,
KZ
Friday, November 06, 2009
Doubt
Doubt is a powerful thing. I doubt myself all the time, usually in matters that aren't important, but they still take up a lot of my time. For instance, when I'm in a meeting, I quite often start to daydream. My mind drifts and I think of everything except the reason we've been assembled. When I'm shaken from my daze, usually by someone asking what I think about the subject matter, I give some vague answer. The thing is, because I'm disengaged I think that I'll have a wrong or misinformed answer. I doubt myself, but most of the time I enter the meeting with a pre-determined set of actions and alternatives because the meeting is not necessary. Rarely do I respond with the pre-determined actions, I always give the vague, bullshit answer. Why? Because I think that the people who have spent a lot of time discussing and hashing out things have a better handle on them than I do. 99.9% of the time, I'm wrong about that. I could have come into the meeting with the solution. I let doubt take over because really that's my comfort zone.
I'm asked to speak at a dizzying number of places in Satan's Anus and I reluctantly accept. I used to hem and haw my way through the speech, hoping to reach the end and mercifully sit down or leave. The one thing I never counted on until recently is the doubt in the majority of the audience. Give me a mike and some notes, and all of a sudden I become the expert. You might have a different opinion or a different set of facts, but I got the mike bitch! Subverting my self-doubt and replacing it with arrogance and an embrace of the inherent power of standing before a crowd and imposing your own knowledge has been a revelation.
I leave my doubt for my personal life. I've abandoned it as a profession. It took me long enough, but I'm there.
Peace,
KZ
I'm asked to speak at a dizzying number of places in Satan's Anus and I reluctantly accept. I used to hem and haw my way through the speech, hoping to reach the end and mercifully sit down or leave. The one thing I never counted on until recently is the doubt in the majority of the audience. Give me a mike and some notes, and all of a sudden I become the expert. You might have a different opinion or a different set of facts, but I got the mike bitch! Subverting my self-doubt and replacing it with arrogance and an embrace of the inherent power of standing before a crowd and imposing your own knowledge has been a revelation.
I leave my doubt for my personal life. I've abandoned it as a profession. It took me long enough, but I'm there.
Peace,
KZ
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Real Shit That I Saw In Baltimore Yesterday
- More heroin addicts than I've even seen in a single place in my life.
- Open air sale of said heroin, by a gentleman that kept chanting the brand name of the dope.
- A manchild who spent the entirety of his time on public transit telling this chick how dope he was at working his program at Potbelly's.
- An Ethiopian cab driver using Garmin to get me to my destination.
- A municipal park bench, emblazoned with the motto "Baltimore - The Greatest City In America".
- A secretary in a professional office wearing a hoodie and Timbos.
- A black quasi-lumberjack wearing leather suspenders.
KZ
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Chaos Reigns
What up Africans? I'm finally doing it, I'm moving to a "central" location between Satan's Anus and The D so I can live with my wife. For those of y'all that didn't know, moving sucks dick, and not in that pleasant way that I enjoy so very much.
I just got back from Puerto Rico, and for the record, the chicks are overrated (they try TOO hard), the food is underrated, and you can make a killing if you open a store that solely sells stacked heels. Incidentally, that portion of Africanness that inhabits the Puerto Rican genetic makeup seems to rule as far as timeliness and general attitude. Also, for the first time in my life, I got sunburned, so that's something. Anyway, we went for our first anniversary. It was a good trip to take and a precursor to the bigger trips we're planning, like to the Mediterranean, which I just realized as I wrote it, looks like it means "Middle Ground", which is where she and I are moving to in Michigan.
This post came full circle. Imagine that.
Peace,
KZ
I just got back from Puerto Rico, and for the record, the chicks are overrated (they try TOO hard), the food is underrated, and you can make a killing if you open a store that solely sells stacked heels. Incidentally, that portion of Africanness that inhabits the Puerto Rican genetic makeup seems to rule as far as timeliness and general attitude. Also, for the first time in my life, I got sunburned, so that's something. Anyway, we went for our first anniversary. It was a good trip to take and a precursor to the bigger trips we're planning, like to the Mediterranean, which I just realized as I wrote it, looks like it means "Middle Ground", which is where she and I are moving to in Michigan.
This post came full circle. Imagine that.
Peace,
KZ
Wednesday, October 07, 2009
Notes From Pervertland
I don't know if this is a fleeting fascination or what, but I've just had a series of weird thoughts. I'm intrigued by juxtaposition of status as it relates to death. Like, I'm fascinated by the chairperson of the Society for Sexual Supression and Moral Indignation dying of because of faulty wiring on a vibrator her longtime lesbian lover was using on her. Or otherwise, a super strung out heroin addict and all around creep getting hit by a bus while saving a child from getting run over. I been thinking about this a lot lately, and I was thinking, if you're not suicidal or have a lingering illness, it's pretty hard to choose how you die. So you gotta be on your toes. Like being extra careful when you do the skeevy shit you do. Or if you're skeevy all the time, you might wanna do dangerous shit in service of other people every so often, and maybe that's how you're remembered.
These are the things I think about when I'm on my couch in my underwear alone, masturbating with Fleshy.
KZ
P.S. I checked out of FB for awhile. Deactivated my account, so if you're looking for me I'm here. Honestly, I now remember the reason why I stopped fuckin' with people I went to high school with.
These are the things I think about when I'm on my couch in my underwear alone, masturbating with Fleshy.
KZ
P.S. I checked out of FB for awhile. Deactivated my account, so if you're looking for me I'm here. Honestly, I now remember the reason why I stopped fuckin' with people I went to high school with.
Monday, October 05, 2009
The American Rodeo
You know there are people out there who are getting rich off of nostalgia and societal vanity? Do you know that if you used to be something or someone, or if you have the good fortune of having won the genetic aesthetic lottery, you could be rich beyond your wildest dreams? Well it's true! Welcome to the American Rodeo, where dick-riding is a sport!
You remember that last Morris Chestnut movie you went to? It wasn't very good was it? Why did you go? Do you remember? Was it because Morris is the next James Earl Jones, with a smooth speaking voice and the ability to manufacture pathos with his line readings? Or did he keep his shirt off for most of the movie? Congratulations, you just put money in an African's pocket for nothing.
Hey, remember that strip club you went to last night? Yeah, that broad had a beautiful ass. You musta blew a couple hun on that chick. Went home with a hard dick, didn't you? You know what she went home with? A couple hundred of your dollars and another African. Congratulations, you coulda got a bullshit dance like that at home for free.
I'm at my wits end. Everybody thinks it's OK in 2009 to dick ride. That shit was verboten where I'm from, when I came up. Now, we do it en masse, every chance we get. I've been called a hater for calling it out, apparently I'm jealous because I'm not getting money or I'm not fine enough to get my dick ridden. OK, if that shit makes you feel comfortable, go with it. But I'm telling you I'm not for giving unearned kudos to anybody. Fuck 'em and fuck you too, groupie.
KZ
You remember that last Morris Chestnut movie you went to? It wasn't very good was it? Why did you go? Do you remember? Was it because Morris is the next James Earl Jones, with a smooth speaking voice and the ability to manufacture pathos with his line readings? Or did he keep his shirt off for most of the movie? Congratulations, you just put money in an African's pocket for nothing.
Hey, remember that strip club you went to last night? Yeah, that broad had a beautiful ass. You musta blew a couple hun on that chick. Went home with a hard dick, didn't you? You know what she went home with? A couple hundred of your dollars and another African. Congratulations, you coulda got a bullshit dance like that at home for free.
I'm at my wits end. Everybody thinks it's OK in 2009 to dick ride. That shit was verboten where I'm from, when I came up. Now, we do it en masse, every chance we get. I've been called a hater for calling it out, apparently I'm jealous because I'm not getting money or I'm not fine enough to get my dick ridden. OK, if that shit makes you feel comfortable, go with it. But I'm telling you I'm not for giving unearned kudos to anybody. Fuck 'em and fuck you too, groupie.
KZ
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Reassessment Day
I'm writing today in defense of uppity n*ggers. I'm retracting my blog dissing Skip Gates. I'm toasting him, along with Kanye, Serena, and B.O. I don't even want to conflate these people, but apparently that shit is happening anyway. As they stand under attack, two of them exhibiting extremely boorish behavior, I've decided to stand with them. Fuck it. I was born here, raised here, given your name, given your code of conduct, followed it, took you values, aspired to your dreams, and every time I deviate from that path, even a little, you're there to tell me what a fuck up I am. Man, fuck you! If I stand on my own two, have an opinion that is contrary to what you call "conventional" wisdom, I'm out of line. Honestly, I no longer give a fuck. If your feelings get hurt or if your status is dinged, so be it. I don't condone physical harm coming to you, but really, I wouldn't be surprised if it came to that.
I also have a problem with asking the fucking President about Kanye. What the fuck do those two people have in common? Tell me, what? Chicagoans? Yeah, that must be it. I wish the President wouldn't weigh in on that shit, but like I said, fuck it. He's a man and he's earned the right to say what the fuck he wants to say. Honestly, today, I'm holding America accountable. America, and the spoils that come with being American, belong to all of us, each and every citizen. Unconditionally.
I've said what the fuck I have to say.
KZ
I also have a problem with asking the fucking President about Kanye. What the fuck do those two people have in common? Tell me, what? Chicagoans? Yeah, that must be it. I wish the President wouldn't weigh in on that shit, but like I said, fuck it. He's a man and he's earned the right to say what the fuck he wants to say. Honestly, today, I'm holding America accountable. America, and the spoils that come with being American, belong to all of us, each and every citizen. Unconditionally.
I've said what the fuck I have to say.
KZ
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
The Rest, Without Peace
Right now I resent the connections I've made with all y'all muthafuckas. Because if something happens to another one of you, I'm going to fucking lose it completely.
That's all.
KZ
That's all.
KZ
Monday, August 31, 2009
Write To Believe
A testament on how lazy a writer I've become will be evidenced on the following lines. You see, we have lost an amazing writer today. Nikki Harris was truly on some other shit. If you weren't a reader, I'm sure the archives are accessible. The link is on my blogroll under DeliciousClam.
But the reason I've called myself out on the writing tip is simply this: I want to make this post about Nikki, but it's gonna come out being all about me.
I started blogging with the intention of being as raw as possible. I used to read Nikki and realize a fatal flaw in my writing. It wasn't that I was raw, it was that I was mean. Nikki had the ability to be as raw as they come, but there was an emotion, a passion, a REALNESS underneath it all. Realness is a word that gets thrown around much too often, but it's what comes to mind when I think of Nikki and her blog.
I was a part of a couple of online writing groups with Nikki once upon a time. We (she, I, in one incarnation, Will, and a couple of other bloggers) would come up with writing assignments, as difficult as we could make them and try to write to them. It was fun and breezy, but it allowed us to witness each other at the height of our imaginative powers. I appreciated the push.
I've been writing recreationally for the past couple of weeks after a lengthy layoff. I'd say it was due to being blocked, but really it was due to being scared that my talent isn't what I think it is. I read Nikki, Hassan, Slish, Nisa, Allison, et al, and I think "Why the f*ck do I even pretend to call myself a writer?" I've come to the conclusion that I write because I can. It comes easy to me. But when I read a writer like Nikki, I know there's a depth that I can tap, another level I can reach that I'm not coming close to yet. I can go deeper. And I have my muse.
-Knockout Zed.
But the reason I've called myself out on the writing tip is simply this: I want to make this post about Nikki, but it's gonna come out being all about me.
I started blogging with the intention of being as raw as possible. I used to read Nikki and realize a fatal flaw in my writing. It wasn't that I was raw, it was that I was mean. Nikki had the ability to be as raw as they come, but there was an emotion, a passion, a REALNESS underneath it all. Realness is a word that gets thrown around much too often, but it's what comes to mind when I think of Nikki and her blog.
I was a part of a couple of online writing groups with Nikki once upon a time. We (she, I, in one incarnation, Will, and a couple of other bloggers) would come up with writing assignments, as difficult as we could make them and try to write to them. It was fun and breezy, but it allowed us to witness each other at the height of our imaginative powers. I appreciated the push.
I've been writing recreationally for the past couple of weeks after a lengthy layoff. I'd say it was due to being blocked, but really it was due to being scared that my talent isn't what I think it is. I read Nikki, Hassan, Slish, Nisa, Allison, et al, and I think "Why the f*ck do I even pretend to call myself a writer?" I've come to the conclusion that I write because I can. It comes easy to me. But when I read a writer like Nikki, I know there's a depth that I can tap, another level I can reach that I'm not coming close to yet. I can go deeper. And I have my muse.
-Knockout Zed.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Just wondering...
I'm waiting for everybody to leave the office so that I don't have to make that fucking weekend based small talk that people insist on making. I seriously think I might have social anxiety disorder. I fucking HATE talking to people, and that's the crux of my job. I talk to people about city wide decisions, usually in a public forum, but increasingly in a face to face situation. Muthafuckas don't stop talking, ever, unless I tell them the conversation has to end. And that's getting to be a problem, because I can't even allow the conversation to start anymore. I'm avoiding 'em like nobody's business.
I'm waiting for the fat, gassy bastard that's in the office next to mine to leave right now, simply because I don't wanna say "enjoy your weekend" to that smelly fucker. Yeah, I know it's sad, but I can't help it.
Gotdamn it! Some bastard just came into my office to say "have a nice weekend", right as I wrote that last sentence. Seriously, fuck that guy.
Well, I'm about to bite the bullet because sitting here is worse torture than talking to these fuckers.
Peace,
KZ
I'm waiting for the fat, gassy bastard that's in the office next to mine to leave right now, simply because I don't wanna say "enjoy your weekend" to that smelly fucker. Yeah, I know it's sad, but I can't help it.
Gotdamn it! Some bastard just came into my office to say "have a nice weekend", right as I wrote that last sentence. Seriously, fuck that guy.
Well, I'm about to bite the bullet because sitting here is worse torture than talking to these fuckers.
Peace,
KZ
Monday, August 03, 2009
Cocoonville
Something's off. I can't put my finger on it, but it is. I feel like retreating from the world entirely. Disconnecting cable, ditching DSL, stomping out my celly, the whole nine. I'm overstimulated. I can't stand the outside world. At TAD's crib, she doesn't have internet or cable, and whenever I leave there and come home, I feel remarkably refreshed. On top of that I can turn off my phone and not feel like I'm missing anything. I know all this is specious reasoning. I obviously feel better because I'm spending time with my wife. But seriously, when I come back to Satan's Anus, I'm inundated with THE WORLD. News, important and unimportant, phone calls, emails, Facebook, and other bullshit overwhelm me. That urgency seeps back into my life, even though none of it is really urgent at all. I don't miss my favorite TV program until I'm reminded that I missed it. Fuck the 3,000 th forward from my Uncle Louie on the N.U.D. certain companies employ. I'm perfectly OK missing out. I didn't used to be, but now, I think I can take it.
Will I be perceived as a freak if I retreat from the world? Nobody would even know about the cable thing. The internet thing would be the hardest, but I could easily make that up at work. And if I only answered TAD and my mother's calls, I don't think I'd be missed. It might be worth a trial run.
Peace,
KZ
Will I be perceived as a freak if I retreat from the world? Nobody would even know about the cable thing. The internet thing would be the hardest, but I could easily make that up at work. And if I only answered TAD and my mother's calls, I don't think I'd be missed. It might be worth a trial run.
Peace,
KZ
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Big Titties In A Dirty Bra
You're gainfully employed in a horrible economy, but it's in a job you despise, one that steals your soul and make you wish you were dead. Your in-laws will watch your kids anytime you want, for as long as you need without complaint, but they feed your kids bacon and candy non-stop. You are as physically and mentally fit as you've ever been in your life, but tomorrow you're being shipped to Afghanistan to chase boogeymen. This is where I am in my life. I picked up a girl with big titties, but she's wearing a dirty bra. Not literally, follow me for a sec.
It's the mixed blessing thing. I've got a beautiful wife, but I only see her on weekends. I've got a stable job, but I feel like jumping off a gotdamn roof every time I have to walk into my office. I'm healthy and sharp, and I'm wasting in Satan's Anus, the capitol of Backwoods/Jerkwater, Michigan. I feel like I'm incapable of being happy, but that's not the case. I'm incapable of faking it. I have been and can be happy, but I know better than to settle for it, like this shit is as good as it gets. Yeah, everybody has problems, but I know there's a possibility, even with all the other problems in the world, real, attainable happiness is within my reach. Now, if I can only get that bra to landromat...
KZ
It's the mixed blessing thing. I've got a beautiful wife, but I only see her on weekends. I've got a stable job, but I feel like jumping off a gotdamn roof every time I have to walk into my office. I'm healthy and sharp, and I'm wasting in Satan's Anus, the capitol of Backwoods/Jerkwater, Michigan. I feel like I'm incapable of being happy, but that's not the case. I'm incapable of faking it. I have been and can be happy, but I know better than to settle for it, like this shit is as good as it gets. Yeah, everybody has problems, but I know there's a possibility, even with all the other problems in the world, real, attainable happiness is within my reach. Now, if I can only get that bra to landromat...
KZ
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Man, Fuck You
I understand how I'm supposed to feel and how I've been told to feel, but Imma hafta say it. Fuck Skip Gates. That's right I said it.
Police, by and large, are dickheads and assholes. They are some of the worst fucking human beings with some of the most outsized egos going. EVERYBODY knows that shit. EV-RY-BOD-EEE. I know Harvard makes you feel like you're King Dick and shit, but truth be told, it took your dumb ass 58 years to learn what we all know, don't press your fucking luck with an obviously insecure, undereducated glorified security guard. You will lose. You won't win. You may win in the long term, but short term, he'll use all of his "power", which at that point is a gun and the ability to arrest you, to make your life miserable. Your "power" may win out in the end, but he's got your ass in the now. Every fucking African I know knows that, and I know some stupid muthafuckas.
I get it. You're SUPPOSED to be equal, and be treated better than your run of the mill African. The reality of the situation is that there is a history of Black men and police officers in this country. When the fuck have you ever been able to tell a police officer anywhere in the gotdamn world "Do you know who I am?", or any variation of that sentiment, and be let go? To arrest a "prominent" man is to get a feather in his cap, at least temporarily, from superiors. That shows that we don't play favorites in this department. Black celebrities or whatever are not exempt from this.
I know we're supposed to have made it, this being the Age of Obama and all, but I fucking know better. Most of us know better. Skip should too.
Fuck him.
KZ
Police, by and large, are dickheads and assholes. They are some of the worst fucking human beings with some of the most outsized egos going. EVERYBODY knows that shit. EV-RY-BOD-EEE. I know Harvard makes you feel like you're King Dick and shit, but truth be told, it took your dumb ass 58 years to learn what we all know, don't press your fucking luck with an obviously insecure, undereducated glorified security guard. You will lose. You won't win. You may win in the long term, but short term, he'll use all of his "power", which at that point is a gun and the ability to arrest you, to make your life miserable. Your "power" may win out in the end, but he's got your ass in the now. Every fucking African I know knows that, and I know some stupid muthafuckas.
I get it. You're SUPPOSED to be equal, and be treated better than your run of the mill African. The reality of the situation is that there is a history of Black men and police officers in this country. When the fuck have you ever been able to tell a police officer anywhere in the gotdamn world "Do you know who I am?", or any variation of that sentiment, and be let go? To arrest a "prominent" man is to get a feather in his cap, at least temporarily, from superiors. That shows that we don't play favorites in this department. Black celebrities or whatever are not exempt from this.
I know we're supposed to have made it, this being the Age of Obama and all, but I fucking know better. Most of us know better. Skip should too.
Fuck him.
KZ
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