Monday, July 21, 2014

As I continued mulling through the list of thoughts I promised myself I’d give some attention to this morning I began to think that this was a whole hell of a lot of shit to cover over a bowl of frosted flakes.

“Can you believe it mom, Charlie Paradise an official upper class man, take a bow sport!” Brooke hitting me in the nuts ala the old mans not so magic trick “fuck!” And I took a bow for teenage next steps and new freedoms most notably open campus for everyone of course except me. And after my mother quadrupled checked my entire outfit to ensure clean cut, quality check the crease, beeper, pat down and cane search we were good after a mirror check together. “Let’s go, let wummy look at you, bathroom mirra, I want you to look at yourself kiddo.” “OK.” After all I loved the mirror, my mother and all the attention that came with me. I was sixteen black in America trapped in a white body, indestructible. “Looks are the only thing you got going for you kid, don’t screw that up too.” “Ma get the lint brush over here.” “I’m like your manager.” And she laughed. “Teammate.” My mother had survived off one-thing, high cheekbones and therefore knew of what she spit. The son of a janitor, a fighter, a sniper, he never could understand why god took the one thing that got him through that Korean war, his wife taken from him birthing my mother. Thank you Jesus. You see looks were everything, blonde hair, blue eyes pared with pair of dimples, it was a joke, looks are everything yo, unless you really want to bust your ass for the rest of your ass short ass time here up on earth. “Look at that face Charlie, what a good looking kid, what a big heart, look at those dimples, look in your own eyes, look deeply into those eyes, you can be whatever you want to.” “OK, Ma! What is all this?” I loved the Jerry Maguire pep especially on first days but this was new wrinkle off track shit. “What?” My tone had everything to do with the sanity of the house my actions that stirred the pill pot harder to explain. “I’m sorry Wummy, I love ah you, but what are you doing?” “Look into those eyes! Can’t you see? Can’t you see you can be anything you want go be!” “Yeah ma, anything I want to be, thanks, got it, terrific look I have a schedule you know like getting to the ACE / PLACE institution, you know the place for the crazy kids, OK?” “Yeah I know I’m so sorry I can’t do anything right.” The sea-saw of emotion just her tone after being so enthusiastic like a Big Guy summer camp melted me poof. “Your lucky I didn’t steal one of your Xanex.” But I didn’t say that shit oh the thoughts in your mind against what comes out of your mouth in situations that are critical to you are critical. “Ma! Please I love you OK? Just don’t bring up how awkward it is. What’s the whole after school special look into your eyes shit anyway?” Realness has a direct correlation to experience and finally, then, truth, golden truth and there’s nothing better. “I don’t know I saw it on Oprah with Tom Cruises mother used to do it to him on his first day of school, I thought it might help, I do believe you can be something very important and not just a hooligan.” In puppy voice this was powerful. “By mom! See you at school Charlie!” Mom and myself raced to the window and saw a car full of her friends peel out with cigarettes hanging out of every window as Brooke descended into her senior year in a dash. “Brooke didn’t tell me some maniac race car driver would be screaming in here to get her out of the blue, were they all smoking in there? Was that a joint? Who the hell was that?” “You smoke?” “Please Charlie, don’t start I want you to have a good day.” “Yeah I will, big year besides I’m the man ma. Where’s Mercedes?” “You’ve been saying that for years. Mercedes is just like a little sister to you. Oh the two of you.” The end of summer on my cul-de-sac was always defined by the imminent return of my sisters Porsche and Mercedes. Waiting forever, finally Mercedes shows up right on time.

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