Mothers

This is it then/Right? This is the year I finally stoop to the level of that vast collection of fellow humans-beings, and, suck! I must draw myself up to the tit-of-humanity, prove to Mother Mary and our God alike I have not forgotton how to preform old duties_sustain myself as I lay naked and exposed; even in this worlds most fifthiest-pit of all_the troth of degreation, or, dungons of Hollywoodisum, and, ask, plead, beg, and eventually, I'm sure, demmand and insist that I be mentioned on their Twqitter pages...
Or I could just top-tweet them until their head explode, but, I guess then they really would be useless to my cause_wouldn't they? And No. I think it's fair to say most of that was just a joke, and becides, nothing compaired to the things I have heard people say about our, lord and master, or HIS Son, come anything near to what you have just heard. But that's old milk. I'm not going to allow such trivialities as to what a bunch of souless fucks think, or say about me eather, or, who they think I think I am, who they think I am w/e for surely too my head would explode itself also.

Then of course we have to wonder what's it all about anyway. There's always that question as to who exactly's crazy around here, obviously. And I understand in this over-techknolagized world, with the National Survailance Agency (NSA) all over the place, things could be going-on in peoples computers; that they simply don't understand, and most havn't even imanigned quite how so seriopusly such instutions have been in place. But, there is no way in hell that girl at the corner-store checked properly, when I told her last Friday of the celibraties that mention me on their Twitter-pages. I mean: You could say that person two-thousand (2000) years ago didn't quite have His head attached to a perfact reality; if He thought jumping on a cross for a bunch of sinners was going to make much diffeeriance, and, I'm not so certian climbing down will do so much eather. But symbolically speaking, from that place I often find myself in, a self-made pergatory if-you-like, I absoulutly cannot stand liers! I just don't understand them really, not at least under the circumstances I usually find myself running into them anyway. Which takes us back to the little girl at the corner store.

Now I realize heads are probably going to turn when you eather mention something so ordanarilly out of place at the corner store, such as Twitter, Tim Tibow, or, Oprah's name comes up; even when you are trying to be discreet and contain the voluam of your speach...actually when I think, it was her who appeared to have the larger of mouths, but, only lies were comming out of it. From her attitude, I could tell, I think, that she was lying, firstly because of how rude, or at least stand-offish she was being; for the first time in two years. What I didn't like though was the way she seemed to be attempting to direct the conversation; so that I would actually say the name, but, seeing through that, I only redirected her to the pages saying:"This is what they say, this is who they say that I am." But as I say: I'm used to this sort of stuff arn't I.

If eather of my mothers were here though, both named after gods themselvs, Mary & Kidijha, they would both be so upset, one with her Hollywood, the other with the music-industry. It is from them that I gained my apreciation of music and television actually. In meny ways it was television where I learned how to see the world in a way that wasn't being taught in school books. Mary however would be more into her Burt Renoleds, Laurance of Arbia's, Frank Sanatra's and Paul Newman's; where`as my guilty pleasure would more be something like, "the nature of things" the news, or something edgacitional like that. I also remember enjoying a good, Mary Tyler Moore, Carrol Burnett and fluff such as this too, but, often found difficulity enjoying them; if the old man was in the room. Being somewhat of an emotional soul, the sentemental parts would always have me with a tear in the corner of my eye. I always felt that if, Fred, the old man saw this, he would critize me for being week. At the time such behavior by ones adults was understandable; given the mentality of the ages. And I felt the old geezer had a right to his opinions anyway, after the pure hell he had to have gone through durring a war; that wasn't even a full generation in its ommencment by then, and the troops returning home. Howerve it wasn't aprichated, made me feel restricted in my interactions with other people, and, obviously_the one thing a teenager doesn't want, specially when they and their brother are the only two black boys within a twenty-square mile radius is out-of-place, aquard, and ashamed. But again: we both know that's not what he was going for. So it's okay. If Fred had known however that the rest of my time was being spent in my room dancing to the radio, there's a very good chance he probably would have been thinking to have me sent away to Military-school or something.

Living with Kadijha however was a compleatly different experiance altogether. The most intresting thing she ever said to me, I think, was one day as we walked down the street at the corner of Ontario and President Kennedy in Montreal, "Why don't I look at people when I walk down the street". I'm not certian that I actually even answered her, but instead only remember allowing myself to feel belittled. Had I answered her though, probably it would only to have been to assure her how actually compleatly wrong she was. It wasn't that I didn't see what was comming towards me. Were the woman to have looked more closely, she would have notied that though my head seemed to be pointed towards the sky, it was only so I could see what was much further ahead, and, what was directly in front of me by that time, had already been deemed as eather little intrest, or more importantly: no immeatiate danger to me or anything that concerned me. It gave the unfortunate appearience of me being a snob however; which made the few good friends I had at that time, all the more important to me. Music comes into the equaision because, when Kadijah didn't litteerly have me locked-up in the appartment with her two kids, looking after them_playing the record albums she would pick-out for me to listen to, I was encourraged to go to concerts with my buddies, date and go to school dances. Providing nobody was checking papers, I was even permitted to visit local watering-holed, and especially disco-tecks. In other words: more than had been the casen when I lived with, Mary, Kadijah encourraged me to socialize with people; where`as I believed, Mary, thought other people were at the very least concerning, and, perhaps a bit too influential towards the forming of a young boys mind.

Now, all these meny years later, what I find concerning simply is these two, if you'll excuse the turm because I mean it no disrespect what-so-ever, mothers, probably would be hugely disapointed with their movie/television personalities and music artists. For them to know that their son, who never had anything really in life he could call his own, had reinvented the most powerful woman on the face of the planet, and this, Oprah, had used that artvantage so selfishley_that a world would eventually be drawn towards war because of it, Kidijah, who's greatest hero was Oprah, would be sitting-up in her coffin right now demanding justice. And if Mary knew I had over the holidays top-tweeted meny of these same Hollywood-personalities, and not a one of them_meny who are at this moment still top-tweeted, couldn't be bothered to even acknoladge me, well...I already know what she thinks, because, before Mother Mary did lweave for greener pastures, and, inbetween her moments of incoheriance alsimers brings often with advanced age, she did tell me exactly what she felt about Hollywood, politicians, and the world in general. As you can have guessed, we were both extreemly disapointed.