meaningful consequences

i seriously kicked my own lame ass in a pool game. my stripes game was on point.

you could tell by the way she turned anyway when the sign said "no turn on red" that she didn't really care about the law. you could tell by the way she didn't make illegal on canal street in front of cops that she did care about getting tickets.

my favorite part of working in middle school is when i try to get kids with ankle monitors to behave with an array of gold stars. i wonder if that worked in jail?

the other teachers are meeting me at cafe envie in the quarter, which will be weird. what if they figure out that their "team leader" is just a wandering child who really wants to be a street bum writing anonymous shit on legal pads?

it is in these moments, alone and sort of lazy, that i really miss james wanamaker. i don't call james wanamaker in these moments, but i sure do look forward to not having to call him. 

i wish my sister was here and am glad that my mother is coming. the buildings are so majestic here. it would be inspired, if i could be anymore. i'm not depressed, i'm just un-impressed, like evita: "but nothing impressed me at all, i never expected it to."

that's total bullshit. all of it. 

like my rap career. speaking of which, the first-ever self-deprecating rap track, prepared for Mr. Youngblood, the realest, finest teacher at Gregory School.

alright, you can spit, so i'll give you your props.

and i can spit something, too, but that's where it stops.

you see fear in my eyes like i'm scared when it drops,

i'll be bleeding so badly they'll be calling the cops...

fake recognize real, son, i ain't playin with you

i'm lonely up here, like i ain't got my crew

you get to going and do that thing that you do,

and they can see i'm a lie and that you is true

i can rap with these kids cuz they young, they green

most of what i say, they don't know what it means

their game is sad, with the kids, it's easy

all the rap they've ever heard is that weezy

but they call me breezy; i love my jeezy

but you, you cold, like you a freezie (pop)

let me stop, clean it up with your mop, 

i'm gonna sit down on my own before my knees just drop

but first let me break it down with my anthem

because you too fine, you too handsome

that's me, Miss G, what my G stand for?

because i got the lamest game in the 5-0-4

i hide in the grass like i'm a gecko

and i had no skills straight from the get-go

i used to be a gangsta but i'm not no more

Youngblood in the house, the floors all yours