Letter To My Son

To my son,

Only time will tell if this letter will be applicable.  If my destiny sees fit, you will be created as a product of genetics, my love, and my dreams.  It is at this time in my 21 years of being under these stars that I have chosen to reach out to you and share the lessons I have learned.  Not doing so would be irresponsible on my part.  Depending on the age that you begin to fully comprehend these words, you will realize that all the lessons I teach you presently and in this letter will be feeble if seen in a dark room.  In addition, you will know that all lessons cannot be learned by spoken word.  Rightfully so, you will challenge the limits of this societies so call standards.  As your father, I will fear for your consequences, but, as my son, I trust you will lay gravel for your own dirt road of your standards of magnanimity.  Even as I type this letter to you I find it very difficult to choose what to tell you and what you should find out on your own.  I guess this is what parenthood really is. 

While I write to a son that I have yet to create, I find pointless to give you the numbers to life’s everyday Sudoku puzzle.  If our futures are meant to collide, I will gladly show you the strategy of filling in each box.  That’s a guarantee.  Instead, I will give you the clues to your daily crossword puzzle of manhood.  Take heed to them but also recognize that as this letter, I am also not perfect. 

With that being said, across 15 is simple.  You will struggle.  At this point in my life, I have come to the revelation that the distress I’ve endured have made the beautifully tattered man writing this letter.  Only time will tell how far this tattered soul will get me but I have high hopes.  The cliché that I have created in my time is -No Struggle.  No Identity- meaning that when something you do becomes part of who you are, expect struggle.  At the same time, do not seek struggle to validate your existence, but don’t stray from it either.  As your father, I will shield you from all the agony targeted for you as long as I can.  As time progresses, with the disapproval from my own psyche, I will remove the plastic from life’s couch and let you experience its stains and abundant opulence.  Because you are my son and I am my father’s son and he a son of his father, you will be able to rid of the stains without ruining the material and handle the abundant opulence without getting stuck in its settling nature. 

Speaking of lineage, you come from a long line of proud Brown men.  The funny thing about pride is it can be the greatest advantage while also being your greatest disadvantage.  Imagine a disease that gives you unlimited strength but kills you a little bit faster every time you use it.  Pride has killed a lot of men.  You will need to find the balance between the destructive pride and the advantageous pride. 

Down 22 is a more difficult clue for me to give insight on because I have yet to figure out the word myself.  Let love be your conscience.  Try not to accede to hate and mistrust consuming you.  As you grow intellectually, you will notice that certain things will be uncontrollable in your eyes.  When the anger and lack of control are mixed in your heart, you get a martini of hate with olives made of despair.  Then you will begin to stagger away from the ones who have invested love in you.  Your speech of peace will begin to slur.  Your memories of happiness will fade away.  And one morning you will wake up from your intoxication with a lonesome induced hangover.  Your father has been drunk many times but my 12 step program is in full effect. 

I do not know if I should give you across 2.  I could force upon you the lessons about who you are as a black man or let you learn these lessons painfully.  You may ask why but as your life progresses, you will answer that same question.  What I will say is do not be ashamed of who you are and what you came from.  I cannot predict the obscure future of our people.  Yes, our people.  Treat them as such.  The rest you will figure out on your own.

Lastly, down 44.  A day will come when you learn that fiction is not true.  Most people say that this knowledge is the first step into the “real world.”  At first this pseudo-truth will hinder you and make your outlook on life mauve.  This “real world” they speak of is a product of their despair created by the energy they used to stop chasing their dreams.  You can live in a life of pure imagination, and as my favorite song quotes “There is no life I know that compares to pure imagination.”  I say even the most fantastic things are true.    Throughout this entire letter I have chosen not input my experiences and demand you of anything because I recognize that you will live your own life.  Right now, I will not become victim to the fallacy that by telling you and that.  Instead I say, mess up and learn.  But, if I am to make one demand of you it is to not stop chasing your dreams for they are the only things keeping us away from the ground.

Resisting Gravity,

Your father, Bryant Brown

Pen Pals: Respons from my Proffesor.

Bryant:

I am heartened by your sensitivity to the plight of our people.  I think partly what you are feeling is the fire that wells up in us because of the obvious injustices we experience.  Be assured that this is not a bad thing.  You can mold your sensitivities into a lifetime of service, of giving so that good can become more real.  But you must not allow your sensitivities turn into a lasting anger and hate, because this can lead you to engage in unproductive thoughts and actions.  White racial domination is an odious phenomenon that predictably drives far too many of us to an array of self-destructive behavior.  Indeed, it is one of the natural outcomes of it.  We have to rise above it, however.  Richard Hatcher, elected mayor of Gary, Indiana in the late 1960s, use to implore us to get smart and not mad.  This was a lesson his father taught him when he was in the midst of the Black revolt of the 1960s.  Like you, I am ever outraged about White injustices, especially police beatings and killings.  See my article, "The Logic of Black Urban Rebellions," in the Journal of Black Studies (January 1998), where I explain that Black uprisings are one category of political response to injustices experienced by urban Blacks.  The talents and genius you have, find a way to use for rectifying some of the problems we have.  At the heart of Fanon's observation is just that, for us to rise above self-absorption (i.e.; individualism) to make ourselves relevant to the quest for liberation and social justice.  I hope this little bit is helpful.

 

Best.

Daryl Harris

Pen Pals: Letter 1/ Response

Dear Bryant,

I'm so sorry it has taken me so long to respond to your e-mail.  I've been in England for the past week.  I'm gonna try to answer your questions with an experience I had on the plane from Liverpool to Berlin:  Two rows from my seat I could see a man (he's white) flirting with a girl (also white) who he obviously didn't know.  Watching the two of them saddened me, not because I wanted him to flirt with me, but because I knew he would never even give it a thought.  In his mind, I’m probably not beautiful.  In his mind, I’m the perpetual foreigner, the individual that represents the outside that continues to invade his world.  Knowing this, even while he may not consciously understand it himself, is what sometimes makes this trip a difficult one. 

Being in Europe, mother of America and the origin of whiteness can sometimes be very uncomfortable.  Walking down the street I can see people staring at my hair, my skin, my nose right through to my very soul, unnerving me as though they were forcing the clothes right off me.  Sometimes, this makes me feel embarrassed, other times angry, that they don’t see me, but only my blackness.  Over the past two months, I’ve come to realize just how displaced we black people, African-Americans/Negros/whatever actually are.  In Europe and even in America, no matter how large our population swells we will always be foreigners forever marked by the hyphen that divides us from a true citizenship. 

And the saddest part is that it wouldn’t be any better in Africa.  I don’t speak any African languages; know any African customs, hell I don’t even know which part of the continent I come from!  Not to mention the fact that my skin tone alone would brand me as inauthentic. 

I know that these are some heavy and distressing thoughts, but I’m telling you because no one else could understand.  I’m the only black person in my program and there are some days when I don’t even see any other black people at all.  I need to know that I’m not going crazy, that we do exist, that we do have a home, that we at least love ourselves even when the rest of the world refuses to even see us.

I hope this answered your questions.  If not, to put it shortly: The day I realized I was black was a sad one.  It was sad because someone else forced me to see my blackness and it was a negative experience that for a long time shaped the way I saw myself.  If I had realized my blackness for myself through my own eyes, then maybe it would have been a more positive experience. 

I’m really happy for you Bryant.  I hope the things you say you want aren’t just meaningless words.  I really do believe in your strength as a leader, a friend and a man. 

Thanks,

Shannon

Pen Pals: Letter to my Proffesor

Professor Harris,
Greetings first and foremost. As you have probably learned of the events that have taken place in Detroit where another innocent life was taken, I am frustrated.  Frustrated past the point of theorizing and learning and to the point of mobilization and action.  I know the problems that surround our people but I honestly do not know where to start in order to solve these problems.  How can you make a people realize that the things they were socialized to love are really destructive?  Our people have been plagued with the ideals of individualism, submission, accommodationism, and inferiorism.  After the news of another innocent black killed by the police, I went into a deep reflection about all the systemic faults in the black community.  My friends and I are outraged and looking for a solution.  I came to you because I noticed that you and I have similar perspectives after taking your Intro to Black Politics class this last spring.  Please advise me on the steps I should take to solving these problems.

Bryant Brown

Random Thoughts Vol. 2

-Learning is a disease. If you don’t learn you will live forever. Not life in terms of age, but in terms of ignorance. I dream to die young.

-Black women’s hair should be a class in college .  

It’s so complex that it could probably be a major with a concentration. In fact, that subject might be the hardest major ever. Classes would include, hair history ,

hair literature, hair biology, hair philosophy

, hair political theory, hair art

, women and hair, human sexuality and hair, grammar and hair, freshman hair seminar, hair theory, French hair

, Spanish hair, German hair, hair in fiction, Black hair since 1940, Black hair before 1940, and Black naps and society.

I guess the moral of this thought is I can’t go to beauty school.


-Best friend connections are amazing. Regardless how often or not you talk or see them, the great connection still remains.

 
-Last night, I had a dream/nightmare that somehow I had to go back to my middle school as a grown 20-year-old-man because of some justified political-educational loop hole. I woke up scared senseless. I’m not sure it was repeating what I once despised or the fear of regression that that petrified me the most.

 
-How tall is Spike Lee for real? I wonder if he will ever put out a movie as good as Do the Right Thing.

-What ever happen to the art of the Black movie? Black films used to be controversial and impacting. The movies of Robert Townsend, Spike Lee, John Singleton, Melvin Van Peebles, Keenan Ivory Wayans, and Gordon Parks that would express the plight of blacks while displaying black pride and black traditions. Nowadays, Black film is just drama and comedy with no substance. Where are the black love stories like Jason’s Lyric

  and Love and Basketball? Where are the black films that show blacks in the aspects of black culture? Movies like Do the Right Thing, The Inkwell,

Boyz in the Hood, Friday, and Sweet Sweetback's Baadasssss Song?

Where are the films that showcase the greatness (good and bad) of black society? The movies like New Jack City, American Gangster, The Five Heartbeats, Head of State, Roots, Glory, The Color Purple, and Men of Honor. Where are the BLACK FILMS?

The Ugly Show

I used to be a pretty serious poet way back in the day.  This is Black Ice's "The Ugly Show."  By far one of my favorite poems of all time.  Listen to the words and see if you are not inspired for change.  You house niggas might not get it, but bare with me for 2 minutes and 39 seconds.

Random Thoughts Vol. 1

-Bad Guys/ Villains are cool because their power is not contained by society’s morals.

-Many people see racial segregation as a bad thing. If the two races were separated, which do you think would be more powerful? Honestly, if the United States surrendered 3 states as an act of reparations, and blacks were given complete sovereignty and independence; those 3 states would be a new and improved world.

-I guess that makes me a villain.

-I kissed my girlfriend last night and I liked it…a lot.








-Sometimes I think I like her more than she likes me, but she said yes so I aint trippin.


-Why do white people want to be like black people without the black problems? It’s like in Aladdin when Jafar wanted to be a genie without wanting the pains of being a genie. Whites want the full lips and hips like our women. They want the big dicks and swag like our men. Get the fuck off my cultures dick.

-“Shit” and “This” are spelled with the same letters. It’s kind of like they were meant for each other.

-When I’m writing, I don’t think, “Damn, that’s a mean ass preposition I just wrote.” I feel that my job as a writer is to make people forget the theory of words and enjoy the magic of the art. In music, people who don’t study the art don’t listen to the music and say, “Damn, that tuba in the 15th phrase of the 3rd movement hit a means as pedal 9th that was off the chain.” No! They enjoy the magic of the art. To the artist, the theory is important but not meant to be noticed in the actual art.

I wonder what it feels like to be “passing?” How do you cope with seeing all these black folks?

Why capitalize the word “i?”

If “I” before “e” except after “c” then science is spelled all the way wrong.

Pen Pals: Letter 1/Realizations

Dear Shannon,



I will start this letter by adding the most obvious statement in letter writing. I hope this letter reaches you in good health. In addition, I hope this letter makes it you without being half way opened and any mysterious blacked out lines from the German governments attempt to censor this letter. As a mater of fact, I should be more concerned about the American Bureau of Censorship doing those things. ABC…Get it? You know like the T.V. station that blinds people from seeing the truth in real world issues by throwing four unattractive, over promiscuous, 40 year old women in the face of America.

Attached to this letter you will also find a copy of “Awaken,” to inspire you. You remember? The only blog you have cried after reading it.

Although it is late in the latter, I want to know how are you doing? Are you feeling homesick like Scoby from White Boy Shuffle? Speaking of which, I would for when you to come back to the states and see me as the fore running leader of a black conscience revolution. That would be a huge dream come true for you and me. I promise you that I have not given up on that dream or my people.

I’m taking a few classes this semester that are increasingly expanding my thinking and solidifying my perspective in black political theory, but I will explain that in another letter.

Here is a question that I was asked in one of my classes that I would love for you to answer: When did you realize that you were black? Was it a happy day? Or do you remember being in pain?

I was searching my mind and I ran across a memory of us just kickin’ it in my car. There may have been sexual activity, but my mid focused on how we used to just chill and be happy. I ain’t getting all sappy and shit, I’m just realizing the real friendship we have. It’s amazing how our friendship has lasted the tear of time. Or is it wear of time?

I don’t know how long this letter is supposed to be but here is my address:

Bryant Brown

[insert address]


Do not answer any of theses questions unless they are in the response of this letter. And be long winded. Remember who you are and what made you.



This Nigga



Bryant Brown

Clip From Black Dynamite

Give Yourself A Black Eye

W.E.B. Dubois writes, “One ever feels his two-ness, an American, a Negroe; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings, two warring ideals in one dark body…this longing to attain self conscious manhood, to merge his double self into a better and truer self.” Ladies and Gentlemen, there is a split between your Black side and you American side and, these two perspectives are constantly and consistently at war with each other’s conflicting view. The question now rises, “Whose eyes are you looking through?” The eyes that you look through, either Black or American, determine how you see your people. I would be willing to bet my tuition that there are some of you reading this column that are looking at your own people through the wrong eyes. In order to appreciate, consider, and change the wrongs of black people, you must look at black people through your black eye.

In the 1960’s there was an intellectual revolution in which students, like us, fought for a new field of education called Black Studies. This effects of this revolution brought classes such as Black in the Arts, Black politics, Black Psychology, and Black Political Theory. The students who fought for these classes realized that classes taught about black phenomenon could not be taught from an American view. In other words, the American eyes see things according to their ideals, concepts, and values. Those ideals being the democratic theory; one man, one vote, those concepts being pluralism; the fight for political power through numbers, and those values being individualism; the basis of the “American Dream.” These ideals, concepts, and values are all included in the American eye but can not adequately express the ways of Blacks in America. There is a point of view that these Black Studies fighters realized. That view point is the black eye and our perspective can not encompass the ideals of the Democratic theory because for most of American history we were not considered man and surely did not have a vote, our perspective can not involve the concepts of pluralism because never in American history have we had the number to fight for political power, and our perspective’s values can not be individualism because we are collective by nature and history. In simpler terms, the founders of Black Studies realized that it was impossible to teach the struggle of Blacks through American eyes. So I reiterate my question, “Whose are you looking through when it comes to looking at your own people?”

Before we conclude this argument, we must discuss what is Black and how there is a separation between Black and American. Black is the connection between an individual and the Black struggle, Black glory, Black demise, and Black history since the first enslaved Africans arrived in America as indentured servants’ in1619. The connection must be genuine for the individual to be considered Black regardless of skin tone and phenotype. Skin tone and phenotype are secondary requirements only seen by the eye. Primarily, Black is our struggle, our glory, our demise, and our history.


Once again, whose eyes are you looking through when it comes to seeing your people? It is easy to accept your American eye because that’s what you have been socialized to do through American education, American government, and American media. But as strong Black men and women, we must do as the Black Studies fighters did and realize that our American eyes can not adequately explain our people. We must make the disconnection between our veils and “attain self conscious manhood.” So the next time you hear that beautifully unique name on the roll before class, use your black eye to see its worth instead of using your American eye to call the persons parents’ ignorant for naming their child that name. The next time you think of beauty, use your black eye to see your beautiful naps instead of using your American eye to define beauty as you pick up that perm box. The next time your American eye tells you that Black struggle is over, racism ceases to exist, and you are equal to every American, ignore your American eye, and give yourself a Black eye.

I Dream of Detroit

I dream of words unwritten;
      In a language where periods need not be dotted
      Where “t’s” need not be crossed-
I dream of dialects unspoken;
      In a voice enunciation need not to be stressed,
      Where infliction is definitions-
Sight through subconscious is unfathomed to the minds eye
Leaving dreams to be safe from
For what can one feel in the absence of a body?
The lack there of? Or the presence of obscurity?
I dream of music unplayed;
      In a sound only heard through script,
Where distance articulates quality-
I dream of things unseen and not to have happened;
      Retention is a curse, and the forgotten is blessed-
But as I rise from once was;
      I’ve lost it all-
I dream of words unsaid;
      Cursed by memory.
      Decided through ignorance.

Excuse Me House Nigga

It is important to realize and comprehend that slavery is over. I, in no way, approve of the tactics nor execution of slavery but as in those times, there are two basic types of blacks; house niggas and field niggas. Since slavery, in the physical sense, has ceased to exist in America, it is also very vital to know the definition of a house nigga or a field nigga is not solely defined or characterized upon skin tone, but rather, more importantly, ways of thinking.

According to W.E.B. Dubois, each and every black person has a dual conscience; black and American. In the American conscience, blacks have concerns, considerations, and pride for being an American. In the black conscience, blacks have concerns, considerations, and pride for being black/ descendent from enslaved Africans. Basically, your conscience mind fights over which conscience to follow; culture vs. the establishment. For the sake of the length of this argument, the establishment will be considered your American conscience and your black conscience will be black culture.

A house nigga, in these times, is an individual of the black Diaspora who values the establishment over black culture. For example, a house nigga carries an umbrella on a sunny day to prevent themselves from getting darker because American society says the lighter you are, the more socially acceptable you will be. A house nigga is so caught up in chasing equality that they overlook their own people’s potential supremacy. A house nigga determines beauty from the standards of American society instead of finding beauty in their own culture. A house nigga is offended by the word nigga because they truly believe and live by the standards and definitions of American society. A house nigga has forgotten the 4 girls in Birmingham, a house nigga neglected the events in Jena, a house nigga doesn’t care about Derrion Alberts.

I write this not to change you of your ways. I write this to offend you. If you are offended consider yourself a house nigga. Instead of anger, find the closest field nigga and ask them what you must do to be saved.

As a field nigga, I inherently love all blacks and could care less about the establishment, but the fact that I walk the halls, sit in classes, live, and eat next to stubborn house niggas is going to kill me faster than the U.S. governments many attempts. Ladies and Gentlemen, I go to school with house niggas. If you don’t believe me, check out the bleaching crème in the bookstore.

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised

Expect More to Be More

Sacrifice

How much are you willing to sacrifice for your convictions? Friendship?....Money?... Love?,,,, Social acceptance?....Life?.... When entering into new spectrums and facets of life, one must ask themselves the aforementioned question. If not, one will never truly experience what the new facet and spectrum of life has to offer completely. If you truly believe in something and hold that something to be right, than in theory, nothing should differ you from practicing in what you believe in. The question that now arises is “how much are you willing to sacrifice for that belief?” In you asking yourself that question, two major actions should arise in the intellect of your mind. Your first response would be to automatically answer the question, but the deeper meaning of the question is for you to question your convictions. “No struggle. No Identity.” This statement that I live by is not exclusive to physical struggle, but inclusive to the emotional and intellectual tug-o-war that occurs in your mind about your convictions.

For example, in order to become more independent from societies silly standards, I refuse to wear matching socks purposely. Oddly but expectantly, I gained a lot of criticism for my choice to not wear matching socks. My emotions told me I did not have to endure such scrutiny over socks, but my intellect told me bear the pain and follow my own ethics. (I am not stating that your emotions are always wrong, but in this situation, they are.) In law, most cases are decided through analogous precedent; meaning that there was a case similar to the one being decided and that the decision in that case can be implemented in future cases. In reference to my socks, which may sound silly to you, if I gave up on this small conviction, this small ethic code, what else will I give up for the acceptance of society. According to law, if I quit socks for social acceptance than I quit religion for social acceptance; I quit racial passions for social acceptance; I quit being who I am for social acceptance. Hence, I am willing to sacrifice social acceptance for this conviction because I am willing to sacrifice social acceptance, at the least, for all of my said convictions and beliefs.

Though this is a small faction of my life, it is a microcosm of my personal beliefs. When upon reflection of your own beliefs, know that the strength of your convictions are based upon what you are willing to sacrifice.

MIA

I am from which I was created. Do not judge me on my exterior for it is made with flaws. Instead, judge the actions I accent with the words I write. But the words I write do not reflect the action I do. Just as any other human being, I make mistakes everyday. As I said before, what good is a man who contradicts his own efforts.

At that point, I was talking on the vitality of effective leadership. A more personal issue ha arisen. I fear I have lost my best friend because she is exactly what I am becoming; heartless. It is obvious that my emotions are gradually slipping out of my grasp. My walk is more stiff. My speech is lees motivating. My writings are less powerful.

I stated in an earlier blog that I am trying to get back to the man I used to be, but as a wise woman told me, "Make sure that man you are attempting to be is worth getting back to." But he is not worth it. Honestly, I have caused too many tears and see many more awaiting me as I travel down this path. The question is "Do I cause tears for others or carry on to my own emotional demise?"

I am from which I was created. My father's father's father was known as a man of great motivation. As they say in my father's hometown, these motivational tactics have only grown through the generations of Browns. As you know, I am BeMoBrown meaning exactly what it says. I follow a lineage of greatness and I am in constant strive for the highest. But in this 20th year of my life, I fear that I am becoming exactly what I demise the most. Heartless.

Coherence

I miss how your rhymes intertwined with my thoughts.
Feeling like a grown man with his hand in the cookie jar and finally got caught,
My heart beats fast from fear,
Knowing not the extent of your consequence;
I struggle with appreciative mistakes or humble repents.
I feel the swell of my intelligence,
A tingle from my inner sense feels the familiar texture again.
Poetry has called my name.
Ignorant to your purpose, I grow proud;
Knowing the journey to this conclusion will bring me joy.
From which I am powered is to which I question.
Seeking answers for only the dumb can speak.
And it is the right of the blind to see the dreams that dreams dream of,
For the deaf to hear the music my internal rhythm dances to.
Your are the equation, the solution, and anomaly,
My greatest Enigma

Defying Gravity/20 years

A wise man once told me that when we’re young we think we’re immortal but it is when we get old, we realize or mortality and become afraid. Well here it is, the day I celebrate 20 years of defying the laws of gravity and I am far from afraid. I am anxious. I have never feared death because my religious socialization has taught me that this physical body is only the beginning of something great. I am anxious because I am ready to answer my calling. My religion teaches me that God has given each of us a purpose, a calling, a dream to chase, and a dream to actualize. I do not know every religion, and I’m not here to sell you mine, but to a certain extent, everyone believes that they are on this earth for a certain reason.

As I sat in church today, I watched the preachers preach, I saw the shouters shout, I ignored the nay-sayers nay-say, and I dwelled upon my purpose. I am Moses. In my religion, God is a God of the disenchanted, the disenfranchised, the minority, and the unspoken for. In Exodus, these people are the Hebrews. In my home of America, these people consist of black people. Moses was not born of the Hebrew slaves for God wanted him to see the freedom the Hebrews, Moses’ people, could enjoy. I was not born onto the slaves for the same reason. Moses had faith that God’s word would lead him to free his people. I hope that God’s word will shine through these words to free my people. Moses realized his purpose, answered his calling, chased his dream, and actualized that dream. In case you didn’t know, this is the realization of my purpose, my preverbal phone rings and this is the answer to my calling, I ignore gravity so that I am in constant pursuit of my dreams. Moses freed his people through the word of God. The Apostles and Prophets that followed him lead his people to God. I will free my people, not from physical slavery in which we have abolished, but from the bars of this jail that are made by the slave inferiority complex complicated by the prison-industrial complex that disproportionally effects my people, the disenchanted, the disenfranchised, the minority, and the unspoken for and inspire those who follow me to lead my people to greatness.

This anxiousness comes to now avail because as in death, with age comes the exponential growth of passion. And as long as there is an atom of oxygen running through my pumping heart, I will not stop, I will not turn my back, I will not fear old Pharaoh, I will denounce the injustices of the enchanted, the franchised, the majority, and the self spoken for. With God on my side, WHOM shall I fear? So, I encourage you to realize your purpose, answer your calling, chase your dreams, and actualize those dreams regardless of differing religion, race, cultural background, social façade, age, socialization status, political party, or opinion. With 20 years behind me, who will join this defiance of gravity?

Ice Cream Daze

I live in a world where thuds from a passing car’s subwoofers play the bass and sirens from rushing emergency vehicles play the treble in the soundtrack of my life. A world where beauty is most often found in death and despair’s residence: a funeral, but conversely, a world where deceit and depression are conceived where fake smiles and forced tears live: a wedding. A world that is filled with individuals who live and die by their own various ethics and morals but the easiest combination of variation is negligence. And since by human nature we all want things to be easier to some degree, one could say the world doesn’t give 5¢ worth of shit about anyone else. I know you’re saying, “Damn this guy is depressing!” but secretly, you agree. As a child of maybe up to 12 years old, I could never remember thinking these thoughts. So what happened?

The same world existed when I was child if I think retrospectively, but to my youthful senses, there was one sound that cut through the noise of despair and depression, one sight that could blur out the sight of emergency and broken hearts, and one taste that would numb out the flavor of uneasy laughs matted by tears. That sound, sight, and taste was Mr. Johnson’s ice cream truck in the summertime. When the sound of those trucks bells and squeaky tires registered with the signals in my brain, my impulse was always to get up, run, and chase that truck. I’m guessing that as a child I never realized the world for what is was because I was too busy chasing after what I wanted.

When those hot summer days ended and warm school days began, I had the education of my logical brain to keep my senses distracted from the truth of the world. But somewhere through this education, my ears finally heard, eyes finally saw, and tongue finally tasted what was really going on. My mother calls this my welcoming ceremony to the real world. Again thinking retrospectively, I always thought the real world was completely comprised of people who woke up early, put on business attire, got stuck in traffic, complained about traffic, work in a boring office, had meetings, got stuck in traffic coming home, complained about traffic, complained about unhappiness, washed, rinsed, and repeated. In that aspect, I still think like the 8 year old me. I don’t want to be in that real world. I wanna chase after that ice cream truck all day. To you real world people, this probably sounds ridiculous but if we all chased after what we really wanted, maybe the world would sound, look, and taste better. With that being said, chase after your own truck in hope that you catch it and embrace it.

My Chucks Are Dirty

What good is a man who undermines his own leadership? Mistakes are unavoidable. Is it a waste of time to challenge the very things that you helped create? The answer to that question does not depend on the situation. If one creates chaos and passionatlty fights for peace, does he not contradict his own efforts? As a so called free thinker, I look at these situations and withhold judgment and see the situation for what it is.

For instance, Dave Chappelle says his comedy was a way to eliminate stereotypes through humorous situations but, that aspect of his passion drove him away from his work because he generated those stereotypes as well. He dedicated his passion to eliminate what he was creating. Is he a bad leader for this? His downfall was no one takes a comedian serious. I do not blame him for his inevitable mistakes.

The controversial "Read a Book" music video was creating and destroying negative messages at the same time. Was the artist contradicting his own message? I do not blame him for his inevitable mistakes. His downfall was no one takes black culture serious.

What good is a social revolutionary that seeks to make his/her culture the same as other cultures? They passionately fight to be up to par with general society's standards. Are they hypocritical to their own efforts? Again, I do not blame them for their inevitable mistakes.

What good is a general who causes anarchy amongst his troops? What good is a man who undermines his leadership? A man who undermines his leadership with contradicting actions is still a good leader if and only if the leader recognizes their flaws and attempts to fix them. Certain mistakes are unavoidable. I have made mistakes and a few of them were avoidable. So to continue my efforts in leadership I press on and lead others away from their avoidable mistakes. I do not condone my mistakes but if a true leader is one who is perfect, I am no leader. In that case I am Wall-E, Forrest Gump, Benjamin Button, or Shrek. I have no legacy of greatness but my kindness to humankind will lead to the drastic change of this society. Fortunately I make mistakes and in learning from these mistakes, I am in Repair.

Awaken

[insert name],
While you sleep, while your mind slowly slips into the unconscious, while your psyche forgets about the present reality and you wonder aimlessly within your dreams, someone thought of you. These thoughts are ones of sincerity and affection. Before these words made contact with this processed tree, the creator laid out a plan that made an impact on at least one. This letter makes no attempt to express the sappy emotional connection between two people that others call love for; the feelings of the writer do not reflect these emotions. But as my favorite saying goes “Who knows your feelings like your actions?” In other words, fulfilling your wishes requires neither genie nor fairy god-parent but simply acting. As you wake and as your mind painfully eases itself from the sometimes confusing subconscious, realize that you are a child of God and were meant to do great things. All that being said, continue your day with excellence and be relentless in chasing your dreams for they are the only things that keep you away from the ground.



Resisting gravity,



Bryant Brown