Wise words, Mr. Curtis Jackson. Wise words.
There is an image that each of us has in our heads about how we look to the outside world. I think they call it residual self-image in The Matrix, or some shit like that. Anyway, we either make ourselves look better or worse than we are in reality in our minds.
I'm no different.
Although it varies throughout the day and is mostly dependent on how I feel at any particular moment, I like to imagine myself if not at this level yet then close to it. I like to think of myself as charming, smart, funny, a little bit of a smart ass and rogue. And good looking. Kinda like Rusty Ryan in Ocean's Eleven. Only, you know, BLACK.
I coined the term Black Brad Pitt before Jigga. Ask my pals.*
Talking to my boy the other day, I've realized that I'm not becoming movie star cool. Instead I'm slowly growing into a TV character by inches every day.
- I have a list of things to address to make right for me and others and ultimately the world.
- I live in a trailer park.
- I have a bigger younger brother but to get more to the point I live with a larger white male hillbilly (his words, not mine).
- We drive around in a shitty vehicle mostly playing country music, classic rock and some shitty rap.
- I know an authoritative blonde with a nice rack who likes black dudes(know a few blondes like this actually but, really, who doesn't?).
- I know a Mexican cleaning woman who is attractive(again, who doesn't?).
- I like spending time at bars drinking beer.
- And, to top it off, if I want to I can grow a pretty awesome mustache.
Who am I?
DAMMIT, MAHN. Earl? Least my fashion sense is better. I hope.
Sigh. Yeah, something has GOTTA change. and sooner than later.
*Trust me. They won't lie for me. They are dicks in that way. God, love 'em.
No comments:
Post a Comment