Heh Heh Heh!
I have this new philosophy (No, it's not Rasta --don't jump ahead). I call it NOCCON. Basically it's an acronym for NAME, OCCUPATION, CHALLENGE. It's to remind me that, at work ESPECIALLY, all that people need to know is YOUR NAME and YOUR OCCUPATION. I have a new job (therefore a new chance) and this new blog to tell my stories. Nobody at work needs to know them. I don't have to be the freak anymore. Any story I feel like telling, instead I jot a note and blog it later...
A-N-Y-W-A-Y. My sister's ex-husband's brother is white. Let me redo that: He is WHITE. Alright. he grew up in 29 Palms, California and moved to Where-are-all-the-black-folk-with-soul? Lake Havasu, Arizona. HIS philosophy IS Rastafarianism. He has RASTA tattooed on his arm for all to see.
Knowing what we know about Jamaica's hospitality toward certain types of whities, I'd really like to see him take a trip to the island. It would make for good t.v. I doubt he'd last long enough for a full season. But definitely a mini-series.
The Beating...
The speeding feet in the pounding rain. The perpetual beat of a heart. Pounding blood. There is a cave in my heart.
Stepping out of the rain, into the shadows, the noise transitions from the wash of the cloudburst to the flow of your anxious blood. Then to the pounding of your heart. It's so loud. Terrifying, yet trusted.
The roar is overwhelmed by the beating. The beating of dark membranes. You have disturbed them. You are enveloped by their plethora of leather-silk wings. Neither bird nor beast, the ostracized. Bats. After they have settled, you see the moonlight reflected in two tapetums. The truth in those eyes, is it familiar to you? Or should you be frightened? How many lives has this creature lived?
Come in, friend. Step closer, enemy. You were washed by the rain, rinsed by the darkness, dried by the wings, and clothed. By a purpose.
Am I a panther? Am I the dusk?
Stepping out of the rain, into the shadows, the noise transitions from the wash of the cloudburst to the flow of your anxious blood. Then to the pounding of your heart. It's so loud. Terrifying, yet trusted.
The roar is overwhelmed by the beating. The beating of dark membranes. You have disturbed them. You are enveloped by their plethora of leather-silk wings. Neither bird nor beast, the ostracized. Bats. After they have settled, you see the moonlight reflected in two tapetums. The truth in those eyes, is it familiar to you? Or should you be frightened? How many lives has this creature lived?
Come in, friend. Step closer, enemy. You were washed by the rain, rinsed by the darkness, dried by the wings, and clothed. By a purpose.
Am I a panther? Am I the dusk?
THE PLAN for Labels
CHARACTERS are influential people in my tales.
BROWN is tales from a span of ages.
WHITE is tales from age 0-7.
RED is tales from age 8-14.
ORANGE is tales from age 14-21.
YELLOW is tales from age 22-28.
GREEN is tales from age 29-35.
BLUE is tales from age 36-42.
INDIGO is tales from age 43-49.
PURPLE is tales from age 50-56.
BLACK is tales from age 57-63.
Grey is an insight into how these tales may be affecting me.
BROWN is tales from a span of ages.
WHITE is tales from age 0-7.
RED is tales from age 8-14.
ORANGE is tales from age 14-21.
YELLOW is tales from age 22-28.
GREEN is tales from age 29-35.
BLUE is tales from age 36-42.
INDIGO is tales from age 43-49.
PURPLE is tales from age 50-56.
BLACK is tales from age 57-63.
Grey is an insight into how these tales may be affecting me.
Blog Archive
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Rasta Imposta
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