Wednesday, June 27, 2012

Terrence “Spec” Nolen Comes to DC!! I ain’t the man!!! (METCO / WARCHESTER, LEX VEGAS AND THE YG FOUNDATION

Terrence, Lamont, Spec, freight train, T-Bone, Boner, Bonus, he hated that last one as a kid I always thought he’d hate Boner more, Good #35, Freight Train! The latter preserved stoically in my brains own ice chamber as my #1 favorite T-Bone nickname. Of course Spec, short for spectacular as in football is what they called “T” in his neighborhood incidentally his other and I can assure you much realer life. No need for quotations. Two worlds, two brothers same country black and white yeah it’s worth writing about.

Spec flew to Washington DC this past weekend for the first time since I've been down in DC / Virginia for all my 12 years. And we got legit quality time, realized as always how much I love dude.

By the end of his stay I was talking just like him, again, and I could easily see why it was that I never spoke like white people spoke until I got to college. Why? All the brothers were gone! Yeah a few here and there believe me I was aware of the who, what, where but it was different. I played ball in college, it was cool but different. Black and white most of my favorite characters were not present. The truly interesting and at times smarter kids didn't take the college route. Sounds insane, right? Depends on the case, I for one NEVER wanted to go to college but I'm glad I did, I'm glad I played almost three years of D3 NCAA college basketball. If I didn't play ball I imagine I would've begged to be a runner on the Boston stock exchange devoured knowledge I truly obsessed over and cross my high school book of gambling client's into something legit. It's funny in a way I still do the same thing, client's, relationships and collections the game never changes just ask JZ.

Anyway to get back college meant re set, all of my favorite people were gone which included the strong black METCO platform I designed myself around. This was weird. METCO was a thing in Massachusetts established to help bring opportunity to inner city kids that otherwise would go to poorer performing inner city schools. It was a chance out, a path to college and success. Success or financial independence as I’m sure most conservatives that have never spent a day in a beautiful black section of an American city would spin it.

Metco gave a chance it was said to inner city black in a country that had forever shunned the plight of our American black brothers. This much we know. Notice I’m saying black allot someone’s got to.

I’d like to see half the managing directors I know in corporate America, 1% pull themselves out of the ghetto and overcome the built in obstacles that comes with our little birth defect of how it all came together in such grand sweeping fashion. And these are no longer nor have ever been dangerous ideas. It’s free speech, right? And that’s why I loved Gordon Gecko from Wall St, “hey pal your not dumb enough to think we’re living in a democracy?” I never knew when I was a kid what he meant, until years later yeah he was a city college kid who knew the deal.

“No one cares, you were wrong about that.” Yeah C was right when he said this to Sonny a dead Sonny at the end of Bronx tale just like I’m right about that last sentence cracked forth, the predecessor guy.

The grand program from our dearest liberal Commonwealth and state the METCO program helped the white well off kids in Lex-Vegas more than it did the “black” kids from the "horrible" places in the Ghetto, more “quotes” please. And that's my point METCO benefits the rich kids, no quotes there more that it helps the kids it was created to assist.

Isn’t that crazy? And how would you ask? Well I believe our friendship is a good place to start which based on my thesis does imply Terrence, Lamont, Freight Train, T-Bone, SPEC Nolen did more for Charlie Paradise than I or the town of you know where ever did for him. Let's document that. Fun Fact: Did you know you typically need 6,000 new views to earn $100 dollars on BLOGGER? Tough to do. Please notice in the new lay out the spedomitor that publicly displays the BLOG views like miles on a Chevy.

Back 2 Blog:

This past weekend as we sat on the porch looking at the pool in Virginia hashing back through childhood and touching on our traditionally topical lanes of verbal spit (dam!) Spec said this, “yeah C but you can tell sometimes when someone even though they being undercover are like that.” And it was a question, “yes” was my response. I have an eagle eye for it. And it's everywhere still, see Trayvon Martin. I can spot it a million miles away but sometimes it takes longer, you don't know, and then one night after a few cocktails they slip, it’s the last thing said target would ever want to hear and would vigorously go bizerk and become defensive when called out and if you can't, if it's a person with more power, you just chess it, mate :) And that’s just 1 part of the game. I don't have tattoos, Terrence has a dozen, I have scars, a white boy speaks of rivers only to honor the mighty Langston Hughes holla

Two different worlds, two brothers, one black one white same country, yeah it's worth writing about esp. on the 4th of July.

I see Mr. Spec Nolen more often than not when I’m home, I try too. He stood up for me at my wedding in Pasadena 2 years ago. He spent night’s at my house on and off since the 3rd grade to present. I’ve stayed at his house as a kid, in college, a young adult and now my old white ass. I always told Terrence that black people age much better than white people and it's true. Our older siblings graduated together and shared a graduation party at our house in Lex-Vegas. That was a sight to behold and we took it all back for all of us.

A true moment that echoed the power of the METCO program. And also a lesson to the non believers. See, what I learned from Spec couldn’t be taught in a book the gap between knowledge and wisdom is a worthy area of comprehension.

Don’t let school get in the way of your education.

I love that quote JQ rapped it in a song once cause I said it so much around him crushing drinks and we riff off each other. Mark Twain said of course had said it originally and when I first scanned that quote on sheet with these, my barely workable edisons I’m packing on my face, brilliance. That was my life in a nutshell, now wonder he’s Mark Twain.

And for the vinyl the unusual accent I garbled from that blender of life stemmed mostly from METCO, rap, speaking non stop, jive, double meanings, the art and reward of learning another language. I was hooked. Today it’s like a card trick back then I was teaching the teachers being a dam idiot my dam self. All’s I knew through my relationship with Terrence when seeded into a realm of potentially racist chatter was they were wrong. About that they were wrong, the adults. As kids, and I’d seen North & South as a kid, I knew that our friendship although a microcosm was major and imperative for our countries prosperity. People should understand that.

T-Bone and C – two good old chips off that American block

PS: We TORE up DC. And realized we still adorable straight solid duo – Much L

Here's some pic's of our Fri - Sat - too much fun for pictures The pool at the crib from deck, Lobster Mac 4 lunch @ PJ Clarke's downtown, best Sangria on Earth at the Spanish joint by the office 17th and PN Ave baby, mmm, and Mr. Paradise on the phone

Terrence / Charlie Cont. Health Care:

Terrence : Hell yeah we should all have health insurance being a citizen in this bitch

CP: Concur

On Bernie Madoff:

Terrence: Yo C, I think he shouldn't even be in jail. I mean if you dumb enough to just give your money to a dude that doesn't know what he's doing, that's on you! Dude shouldn't be in jail

Charlie Paradise: I agree! However, i mean i dunno i agree w / the man, don't be retarded. And when that comes to money means only 1 thing, DILIGENCE. Do your due diligence

On Therapy: Terrence aka Spec: Yo we don't play that. People will think your weak, can't have that

Mr. Paradise: OK, we disagree on this one hefty. I LOVE therapy esp. free therapy, take it any where i can get it.

Some conclusions: Black people are nicer than white people unless your at a PGA Golf tournament.

Dam sure that mighty dollar heightens ones perception in thy self. But not to me *

This is a short story in an ongoing series to support METCO and the YG Foundation. Please click on the link below and scroll down to buy your 1 of a kind Welcome To Lex-Vegas T-shirt. All PROCEEDS GO TO SUPPORT THE YG FOUNDATION. Make a difference and check out our mission statement and the below, below link, thanks, YG 94



Tuesday, June 19, 2012

J. Wig Sounds just like Jim Morrison go figure!

OK back on a Doors voyage which happens every few years I stumble upon this. An interview 1970 Jim Morrison, it was after Florida, his arrest and he took a tough old newsman interview to promote the bands 4th studio album, Waiting for the Sun.

This is part V, I'll post the remainder for Doors fans. It's a great interview, Jim is serious and talking to the man like a friend, it's interesting to me, how apparent the lesson learned in Florida scared him. And it's interesting to see how much clear he could see. And this interview runs the gambit, it's cool to transport back to 1970, hear the same themes and pot holes. One thing is for sure, music % the Doors were pretty cool.

Anway I couldn't believe the first time I heard this and thought to myself how similar he sounded to J. Wig! I followed the Super Bowl champion around with a camera for years, I heard this Morrison rare interview and it struck fiery in it's immediate and clarifying connection. How bizarre? They sound just alike. I'm going to dig a bit and find some Wig clips and match the tone, stye, the veracity and curiosity. The boldness, the cool way a young icon spills out the treasures of his pains and successes.

Here's a clip of Wig on the radio today in Iowa. He's home to be inducted into the sates high school football hall of fame. BIG

It starts in the middle, listen through and see if you can find it if not go right back to the above Morrison radio interview, listen to the first five words and it'll hit you.

What's interesting to me and the above radio Wig interview was the closest most recent thing I had, and it clicked. This is a relaxed Jim interview so i just need to find a relaxed Justin interview, this last one posted here was radio, hometown hall of fame shit, I need the just kicken Justin joint of which there are many. And it's crazy to think how different the times were how similar they were although 1970 psss, 2 years after 1968? Get the fuck out my face, step off 0, '12. And our issues are gigantic but not as bad I'm convinced. Still what a coincidence putting these two together. If your a Doors fan peep this whole interview, straight fascinating and also, relaxing, imagine that? Rare Find. The 90's were just as sad now music sucks as we've descnded into a commercials set to harbor content a life negret it's not if your ignorant toward it. It's a shame but you MUST RESPECT THE LEGENDS. The Jedi's, the truth the balance for we ask questions.

Anyway I'm going to dig and with such a vast amount of source material for both will come up with striking similarities in tone, description and well, tone. Very funny

Sunday, June 17, 2012

Justify My Love January 9, 1991 “Practice doesn’t make perfect it makes permanent.” The Big Guy

classic old school speech from my old teacher and coach

This was the first lesson of Lexington Basketball. At every basketball camp he instructed that we attended sacrificially as children would always say this first. “Practice makes permanent not perfect.”

It made perfect sense. Your practice habits had to be fundamentally sound. Before I started a gang, I had basketball, I had General Hospital on daytime and I had these basketball camps in which the Big Guy contended that “Rollie” was the only friend you needed. “If your ugly like Coach Mumford, so what, if you’re a loser like Brinklow and people don’t like to be around you, so what, if you smell funny, so what? If you don’t get invited to parties, or your family doesn’t have money to send you away to fancy summer places, so what, if you think your alone your not, why don’t you give time to poor Rollie for Pete’s sake.” And his voice would end that little intro on such a nice little bow tie of a tone from such a big man that it calmed me to no end. I knew it was true.

“You see this, Rollie.”

And he’d pick up any nearby orange basketball. “Rollie doesn’t care who you know, what you look like, or where your from, he just wants to come back to you. He always does.” He’d then drop the basketball on the ground proving his point as it popped back into his hands. “Unbelievable.” He’d always say in one word thus solving my biggest problem. And then he’d begin dribbling Rollie with either hand and pick his standard day 1st of camp speech back up. It never gets old

“Here he is, Rollie, the only person that always comes back to you no matter how you screw up.” And he’d pick up his dribble, “Who can tell me who we name Rollie after?” Hands darted up.

“Yo Horwitz who?” Horowitz was a Coach Farias favorite. He looked like Lucas (movie FN) with the coke bottles and “video smart” looks. The kid would light up and answer a question that every kid in camp knew. And in his cute kid tone, “Rollie Massimino was a former Lexington high school coach who went on to coach the biggest upset in the history of the NCAA championship at Villanova against the Georgetown Hoyas in 1985.”

“That’s right Horowitz, Rollie, former Lexington coach, big timer, that’s our basketball program, and that gives you an idea of some of the greatness that has come through here. So you bounce Rollie on his head and he always comes back, no matter what, you leave him outside, stuff him in the garage, it doesn’t matter he’s always happy to see you. What other friends do you have like that?” He’d proposition the question before again going back to Horwitz, “Hey Horowitz!” He nodded in his direction and the kids face like many of us in camp, remained glowing. “This is what I want you to do tonight. OK, go home grab your wife.”

“But coach!” His squeaky voice elevated over all else. “I’m too young to have a wife.” He was confused and the Big Guy never broke stride. “OK, that’s good cause I don’t want married campers in here. “

“OK, so no wife OK Horowitz, we’ll use your mother. You got a mother don’t you?” “Yeah I got a mother.” The kid would say proving it to himself. Horwitz seems retarded with his face, I mean he’s the brunt of this joke every summer and you think he would’ve picked up by now.

“OK, Horwitz I want you to go home tonight and try to bounce your mother on her head and then kick in her the face.” The camp laughs. “OK” Horwitz chuckled. “See if she comes back to you, but Rollie?” And then he would again kick him, retrieve and bounce, demonstrate what was true. “He always comes back to you.” Coach Farias was a big man with brunt toughness of a football player and the finesse and charm of a hardwood Houdini. In the eighties he was at least two fifty lb’s. “And that’s why Rollie is your best friend, and if you work hard you can be as good at this game as you want to be. “OK but its not just Rollie, whose your other best friend?” And the whole camp chanted back, “Stan!”

Cont. “That’s right everyone forgets about good old Stan. Stan of course named after another legendary Astori basketball coach Stan Boitan. Stan won back to back state titles right here at Astori high, and because of that, and many, many more reasons that is what we call the rim in Astori, Stan. OK, now Stan is another best friend you might not know you have. Now Stan stands out there all winter long with no one to play with. You and Rollie, hopefully is inside with you, in front of the fireplace, watching TV. Meanwhile!” His voice echoed throughout the gymnasium. “You got poor Stan, his face is icing up, he hasn’t seen anyone in months, he’s covered in snow, you can barely see him, up there freezen to death.” And he would quite grandly point to many of the campers mesmerized by his hoops ode to a ball and a rim.

Cont. “Good old Stan, cause when the weather gets nice, and you and Rollie go back outside he’s right there ready to play! He doesn’t complain that you hadn’t gone to see him once in months. He doesn’t complain that you left him to freeze while Rollie was up in your room all winter. He’s happy to see you, he’s your best friend, right there all for you! It’s solely in your hands. Rollie and Stan, it’s unbelievable.” And then he’d tie it all in.

“Ok Horwitz tonight after you go home and try and bounce your motha off her head and kick her in the face, try throwing her outside with Stan in the ice and snow. Horwitz you think she’s comen back? You think your getting lunch, lunch money tomorrow?” Horwitz’s head bolted back and forth. And then his peripheral vision would catch a camper, a new younger camper breaking another cardinal rule, sitting on a basketball. He’d whistle that “coach” whistle and loudly say, “hey!” In the violator’s direction before asking his timeless, “would you sit on a violin? No you wouldn’t you never ever sit on a basketball just like you wouldn’t a violin.” In our life’s this is what was sacred and none of us no matter our dementia ever sat on a basketball.

“Practice makes permanent.”

Proving once again that life lessons and sports lesson are as transparent as gambling, bookies, brokers and clients . So I might have been nothing short of an ADD riddled, corner cutting white kid acting black but I played basketball the way it was supposed to be played. We all did, it was the only way it was played in Astori.

Our freshman basketball team was off to an undefeated start. And even though I didn’t start the sting was taken out by our wins following a similar pattern of Santo and I always coming off the bench to capture a lead we so far had retained 5 times in a row. Mike started, and even though we were two of the smaller kids at the high school his handle is why Lloyd Mumford used to call him “Magic,” that and it was the eighties. Mike could dribble with his head up, with both hands at a fast pace. Goldy started at the two, with Kevin at the three, and TR and Wells at the four and five. Clarke Junior High had two starters and Diamond, the other three. Santo and I from Clarke came in off the bench, Lamont too.

Through it all I have worked harder than ever on my game. I played defense at a high level. The varsity was now ranked number #19 in the state according to the latest Boston Globe poll. I wanted the varsity to be successful during my high school tenure before it. Globe “ink” made all other aspects of the program want to work harder. We all wanted to be a part of the program’s success on any level. It’s what we worked our whole lives for, basketball. Basketball was king in our small town, a packed gym of two thousand fans from the community made you a king for a night.

check the 1:55 mark of this vid

Saturday, June 16, 2012

A Saturday Scribble and PROCLAMATION

Happy Saturday.

Spry is the wrist that moistens the gist of a paramount point that everyone insists is more myth than marrow don’t go callow into the enlivened evening cause callous courage is rough enough to endure the splinters of times peevings and truths woven in the soft cotton of our sound booths

I’m a player in this game.

And there is never a bow, seen too many lives to understood now is the now and blessed to be here with you on Saturday morning writing a little poetry, fit for me, a king and slave to the written encrypting this on my grave,


Did you ever hear a story about me? There so good, from the dysfunction and dark to Super Bowl’s and a young Markey Mark, and the sad and weary pedophiles r the worst, took my innoncence so young it didn’t fucken hurt, bizerk that it works, but your mother wasn’t stranded, I love you Mrs Medas and stand with every child that was ever abandoned.

I’ve never strayed from a fight, highlight the ignorant soul that dares spark a rascist tone in a public dome, I will be that guy, and fists will fly, doing my part to keep idiots in line.

Stand with me, men and depart again from the boy you left at Santo’s gravesight on the living room floor, holding hands with your girls as pop walked out the door. I can take it. And no longer fake it, not even a little bit it.

SO PLEASE TAKE NOTICE, nail the notice in the center for all to see, it’s 2012, I’m brining back UNLV.

I C U fuck fake – stand tall for what you believe in and don’t tolerate anything less from the people around you. WARNING ; MY HONEST PHASE IS SET TO ROAR BACK.

From Arequipa to Cordoba and Wine Country AR.

Happy Tuesday! Usually I would've said this twenty times already to customers and prospects going through my daily currency call list. Instead I'm writing from Mendoza Argentina, in the thick of wine country in our make shift home for the next couple of days looking at our hand delivered whopping breakfast. This includes fresh the the local bakery (we're staying in a small hamlet 30 minutes outside of downtown Mendoza) of sugary coissants, ham, cheese and buttered sandwiches, fresh coffee, tea, another basket of various breads and who enormous piece of chocolate cake and of course freshly squeezed OJ holla.

To say our latest crib is re dunk u lis is an understatement, our roofs of rest continue to escalate, I've video'd much of it however due to weak internet signals have been unable to upload and share. In any event a lot has transpired since I last left you on the write so let's get top the business.

Last words on Arequipa and the Colca Canyon. One item I omitted regarding the Colca Canyon last entry was day 2 after our hiking expedition we were led to the canyons natural hot springs for a dip. This was indeed a highlight for the kid, natural hot springs seemed just what the doctor ordered and I down right giddy having not known this was an element attached to day II in the canyon. Also on the bus trip over reviewing stunning views and informed from our guide that the best vierws were actually from the bottom is that for adventorous travelers the canyons hot springs also had an active zip line built into the landscape. "Should we do it?" And a bubbly summer crush had asked, "Of course!" I replied seeing to it that not so much as one stone be left unturned as we take South America. I assurred her that I was a veteren of zip lines from my Hayden days to which she suspiciously acquised my confident thread of past zip line triumphs. The Aussie boys were psyched for everything zip line as the older couples contemplated such a feat battling their male genitals and face keeping in the face of other corageous and single i might add male excitement. The older "wives" it seemed were attemteping to squelch the visions their husbands zip line aspirations in the face of the younger lots excitment of such a feat as well as it seemed an admission of male potency was bring ing about. "Honey your knees, your medications, your arthrightis, your back, your last accident." The voices of reasoned were summoned from the pulpit of accidents past but not from summer, she was excited and would do it as long as I did and aft5er all I reminded her it's just a zip line. Arriving to the volcano's natural "hot springs" and zip line our host pointed to the zip lines first and second post, the line and the where to pay the fee. The older husbands bowed down to their older laddies concerns, "What about the grand kids." And I took one look at the height of the second post as Sky Diver carnival ride anxiety gripped my chest, "No fucking way I'm doing that." I had my own vault of accidents past and rapid falls of personal anxiety related specifical;ly to height induiced free fallingbtasks as such. "But just a second ago." I grinned and beared it, "I know summer, sorry, let's hit the shower." The hot srpings, and Pisco Sours were just what the doctor ordered as this was not the Hayden Zip Line, I felt my mothers spirit petting me on the head saying, "that's a good boy." And we enjoyed the 45 minutes natural sauna amidst a fairy like setting with deep acoustical merit, the open bar was the cherry on top and we watched the careless crop that chose to zip line have the time of their life threatening the fates of Peruvian safe guards. One thing for sure was that it was quite a zip line, I ap;oligized to Steve Savagbe in case he happened to be dead and might have been watching. "I'm a sauna guy." Imused to summer after my first zip, "you really had me going there for a second." And at the end of the day minus the accidents I would've loved to do it and applaud all that hold that Bransonion spirit.

From the hot springs we retreated back to our retreat in the canyon which reminded me of the great Ben Horn owned Northern Inn from Twin Peaks, we headed back to Alequipa for a night before another days worth of travel would take us through Lima and into Argentinia, finally.
ADD strikes back. With only a couple hours left in Arequipa I left Summer at the compound and headed out to buy stamps and rush out our first round of post cards. As we were checking out, I reached for a bank card that wasn't there, I had pulled a dad, ADD was alive and well after a mere two and half weeks on the road. I left my bank card in the ATM a mile down the street, ands this was in an area where the retaurant we dined at last night attacthed a card to our bill esstentially pleadsing with the customer to allow them to call a cab no matter the distan ce on account of the many fradualunet cabs and kidnappings that are apperently apart of Arequipa nightlife. I think blue eyes and a Carolina blue sweater carried a great bounty. Anyway our cab was soon on it's way and we had top go the the airpirt, the card was gone and thanks to Summer's request to keep her phone on until we reached Buenoies Aires I sinmply called the bank and had that shit deleted and re-sent.

The Hotel Bill in Arequipa. $230 USD's. This included 3 nights, two dinners, three messages, a lunch and my bar bill by the pool. Their is fooitage of the place and meticulous sprawling grounds inside the heart of an unbelievable city. Our cab arrived, the driver was vetted for possible terrorist ties and we arrived at the sirport a couple hours before our short flight to Lima. Once in Lima we had a six hour lay over before a 1AM flight to Cordoba AR. With anxiety of losing the bank card ontop of rushing out on an empty stomach had made me sick after an ill fated sudmission to Macdonalds at the airport. I felt woozy, we did find some great deals on X-Mas stuff, it's all about baby Alpaca wool in those parts, butter. Our flight to Cordoba felt like I was on a slave ship and lasy all through the night, it was rough as I'm not the best flyer but we arrived in Argenentia early in the morning on a clear blue skied spring day. I was only hoping that the coffee was administered in one unit as in Peru you added coffee to hot waster ala tea, also the napkins I was praying were a bit thinker to no avail. In Cpordoba it felt like a miniu Beunoes Aoires and seemed a prefect appetizer before our end destination, after of course some much needed rest.

Our hotels it seemed continued post Cusco to augment the ammentieies and basic needs i.e. running hot water we could actually brush our teeth with. And for the first night in the heart of another great city we raided the min fridge, stayed in and crashed out to three hours of Jersey Shore which sadly was playing so far away from the states. The next day we set out to tour a couple musuems we'd picked out, got ouyr bus tickets to Mendoza and of course pick the perfect outdoor lunch spot for a customary bottle of wine before siesta. And nothing was opened, the famous strip we'd peeked at bustling the day before was empty, we walked up ten blocks, empty, walked to the musueam , empty, nothing. Everything was closed, we learned it was a national holiday, and were lucky to find one illegally opened bakery with a bread line that reminded me of pre-fascist German bread lines, thank godf I wasn't there for that. We squirreled a couple of sandwiches of god knew what as even our hotel was shut down for any foods or beverages. And then their

Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Because I love you Thoughts from a crashed X-Wing December 23, 1990 “I saved Latin. What did you ever do?” Max Fisher-Rushmore

Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the lord my soul to take. God bless my Ma, crew and all the people down on their luck, Amen

Just takes a second to get out of the way. I was starting to get in my own way but remained confident I’d get away with it all. I’d get away with it all, win a state title and marry a blonde bombshell. I’d have babies just like me and I’d teach them too about the inherent evils the white man held poised and possessed. They’d have bright blonde hair they were scared to cut. They’d be hyperactive they’d dance, sing and steal things. They’ll excel in math and have a color wheel of legendary uncles men who understood my own sacrifice and knew how to keep a promise.

I’d broke the staggering realization of my own depression and although I’d catch occasional whiffs from my mothers on going battle I was at an apex emotionally. Basketball for the town I was so proud to be from had started. And I was on the team with my ten best friends, a family finally for both of us. Although part of my mother’s depression was her worry and I did little to mitigate the sting of her concern. And her mind it was great I had a bunch of new friends but half of them she determined were “just as loony as you! Oh god I never get a break, you better be home.” Unfortunately home was the last place I wanted to be.

Breaking windows soon became our weekly therapy every Friday night we called “nature walks.” It was a term Monster came up with. Breaking windows was great exercise for us being in season and all plus I was fast to the point I had little fear of apprehension.

Apprehension was a good term to become familiar with, as it should be avoided. Back then I never had a doubt one of us would get caught doing anything.

UNLV, finally we’re all on the same team in our own gang. Finally I’ve arrived. These are my teammates, the kids I’m supposed to win a state Division one high school championship with, a family, finally I’ll never let them down.

And that was it, my fall indoctrinate to AHS was over basketball our primary focus was now in play which meant an immediate suspension to all shady business. Plus I had to start going to class everyday for I was now “in” season and nothing could shake our hoops integrity.

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Make A Rap Song For Your Mama Day - Teammates - (4 Wummy)

Our latest cause, looking to make this day official, throw your hat in the mix, and think about what your mom did for you. It's a great creative exercise and oppurtunity to give thought to a such a wonderful sequence ar arena perhaps your life now demands too much to cover albeit even occassionally.

Anyway for a very long time it felt back in the day it was the two of us alone. And she means that much to me, GREAT way to spend a Sunday morning. Great morning to say thanks.

God Bless America while we're at it)