12 days into the new year, and I'm convinced I'm the most predictable 28-year-old man this side of The Mississippi (I've always wanted to use "this side of the Mississippi" to describe something, so there).
To be honest though, I'm not complaining one bit. I love being old and boring. It's kinda liberating, actually, even if boring and liberating seems like an oxymoron. Besides, after meeting Pam Grier last year, that was all the excitement I needed for the rest of my life. I'll be old and boring for the rest of my days, and anytime I feel the need to have some excitement, I'll think back to gettin' to meet Sheba, and since I never got around to putting this picture up at the time, BAM!!!!! (good Lord, she's STILL FINE.)
An example of this was my recent journey with my beard. I went 98 days without shaving or getting a haircut. It didn't start out that way, but hell; after a while, I just didn't worry about getting a cut or shaving. When I wanted to go out, it never scared women off too much. Shit, some actually dug The Cast Away Look. Who knows, maybe one day I'll resurrect The Beard, but for now, it's back to the normal look.
I haven't written much poetry lately, because...well, there's nothing to write about. The last time I wrote endlessly turned into so many poems about the same woman that they coulda filled up a whole damn book. Once that came to pass, I wrote about whatever else was on my mind. These days, though? Nada. When it comes, it comes.
My current mindstate is that of an appreciative man and one that's just...at ease. I have a list of books that need reading. At one time, I wouldn't read anything but Black authors, and I would scream at anyone who attempted to recommend fiction to me, but that's not so much the case anymore. I've read Huck Finn and To Kill a Mockingbird already, but that was years ago, so I figure now is as good a time as any to re-visit them. By the time I get to The Godfather, I'm sure I'll be ready to go back to autobiographies, books about particular periods in time, or whatever.
I'm convinced I have never been more at peace than I am now. Anytime I write on this site, which will hopefully be more than I did last year, I just feel at ease. Twitter is where I just have fun, cut up, cuss like crazy, and do whatever, and Facebook is cool, but this is much more slowed down; kinda like the end of your day, when you just take your shoes off, stretch, and walk around the house butt-naked with music playing in the background and drinkin' a glass of Simply Lemonade. Not that I do that sort of thing; well, yes I do, but it makes me happy.
So yeah; I'm gonna write more. Even if it's just a random thought (a la the Thoreau quote that STILL stumps me), or more extensive words, I'm gonna do it, but it can't be forced. Never that. It has to be authentic, or it's a waste of time.
1/12/11 @ 3:36 AM