Monday, August 13, 2012

April 27th, 1991 Fragile Union + Joy Ride aka Red Paint part III of III

Fragile Union April 27th, 1991. Astori MA “We all we got.” G-Money to Nino Brown-New Jack City

The next week in school I didn’t say a thing or move a muscle. I had a “preliminary” court appearance Friday regarding the red paint on Captain John Parker our national monument. During this week of horror I’ve experienced the most acute panic attacks that I’d experienced to date. I’d recently thanked Jesus just in case he had anything to do with the abundance of medication concealed inside my mother’s medicine cabinet. Whenever I’m in my mother’s medicine cabinet I know it’s bad. I hate pills and am still pissed that my school thinks that in order for me to receive my right to an education I have to eat one every single day to attend!. Adults are the worst and police officers are adults so you unwind the calculation light bulb.

I already had this curtain peorto Rican Marco attack me in G House screaming “do you know what you cost this town?” UNLV stomped him out but I was getting bad vibes everywhere. The good news is I was back with the gang so its great. As much as I was scared it made for yet again, explosive rap lyrics.

Shit’s going down! It’s wartime and kid I’m nervous. I gotta come correct before my ass is out of service. I recognize the game and what it’s gave me, profit is profit but loot can’t save me. My nine is my buddy til death do us part cause when it comes my time in hell is where I’ll rot, but that’s the mentality of this crazed individual when shit goes down 187 is the ritual and fit you will ht punishment for the crime that you’ve committed pull a crime do the time now who has benefitted? Song 4 on my first 2-$mooth album. Shits going Down

Lately it was important that I continually reminded myself that “I don’t give a fuck.” It’s the only thing that would make me feel any better. All week on the news they are reporting in what has become a small national story that a suspect had been taken into custody. My mother had been breathing out of a brown paper bag all week and during emergencies naming all of the peoples names that begin with the letter R. Even though they can’t release my name because I’m a juvenile everyone in town knows I did it. . In Astori that’s enough to get the few mothers off your list that still allow their kids to hang out with you. The paint match story was of course some how leaked, what you think it would come from my end? I want them all to fuck each other. UNLV hung tough albeit a bit tempered by my wounded spirit. The leader was quiet, drained. This incident had exposed how the weight of the mighty towns “opinion” worked against me every single time. Their love plus this “incident” gave me a rap confidence (at least something) I’d never experienced before. They all became what I referred to as “incidents.”

It’s no lie and on the sly I be rhymen and briben all the time, genuine is how I like to drop, will it stop? A scale for a crop, not careful it pops like Boston adults make me lost and I say one time I’m writing on paper, this brutal little caper where the kids that got pushed were the kids that shot back. Never recognized yo these fucking kids snapped! Saps step away, can’t hear me yet? Just a set there’s hope for you yet in a basket of eggs never make just one bet. Energy of any sorts had left me, defeated. They won, I couldn’t take it. I fell asleep thinking my childhood just died. Joy Ride May 1st, 1991 “Would you believe not guilty, filfthy devils tried to kill me!” Ice-Cube

Friday morning I awoke to a strange sensation. Opening my crusty AM eyes to my mom good by kissing my forehead. I wanted to close my eyes. I preferred sleep to vigilance during those past few plus it was a court date. I knew what was coming. I’d cop a plea to avoid a costly trial I’d lose. The paint match to my shutters made DYS inevitable. Not a big deal just a hug and a kiss peace seemed restored.

Wait, that was a happy kiss?

Mental levity piques my curiosity. “Good morning angel, mommy loves you so much.” “What? “Oh Carl, I’m so sorry, they dropped the charges baby! Mommy’s baby, oh smash a head, I so sorry, so sorry for notg believing you, I love u so much.” She was in tears that sent nervous chills down my spine, “what?”

Moments later I was made privy and exonerated. The culprits? My other arch nemesis, “hippies.” A group of original “hippies” were protesting our troops in Kuwait who had recently left for the first Gulf War and turned themselves in publicly Chanel 4, NBZ was airing the story. I watched in disbelief from my kitchen. They surrendered on the steps of the state houses golden dome across from the Boston Common and the statue of the famed 54th regiment of Boston, the good 54th, they turned the tide of the civil war. And I just couldn’t fucking believe it. I’m back baby

I walked downstairs to my prepared breakfast and for a silent moment everything was how it was supposed to be Pleasentville before the techno color. “I’m so sorry baby, mommy love her very good boy, I knew you could’ve never disgraced the country!” Laughing to herself, I felt like I just hit the lottery. "That's great ma plese no one in this house speak to me for two weeks, nope, shhh! shhhh."

I’d now forever be frightened of how things could be framed to hang you. I hadn’t yet realized my prized reputation was to blame, and that was something I could control. Back to school was entirely different and a legion of people who didn’t have their facts right caused me to walk right by them with some hip in my step. And a condescending laugh shaking my head pondering their race to judgment in the holy court of sculpting public opinion. Everyone thought I did it, I’ll never forget what it was like that week for an entire town to hate you. Jesus, anyway charges and case dismissed meant it was over and my spring as well as high school career at Astori could continue.

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