The Story of Wayne Brady

I don't exactly remember when I realized I was on the verge of becoming an Uncle Tom, but I assure you it was before I graduated college. There wasn't any grand event like a cop singling my out amid my white friends or a profound witchhunt like a proud black woman calling out something problematic I said. No, I was too homely and quiet for either of those to transpire. Besides, being problematic didn't exist in 2007-2011; you were just wrong.

There was never any separation from black classmates as a whole. I had several friend groups during college, one being the extensive multi-cultural underground at my PWI. No, one day I just realized I was an uppity negro.

Though I grew up in a crime ridden city, I definitely grew up privileged. I had two older sisters and divorced parents, but I still got most of what I asked for. I still remember the day I ask my mother if we were poor because we switched from boxed to bagged cereal, yet I was never in danger of not going to private schools. My parents definitely sacrificed and provided for me.

By the time I reached middle school, I realized I was different. I couldn't relate to the other kids at church when they talked about their shenanigans. I would run into elementary school classmates and wonder how we came from the same place. My natural intelligence was budding. I knew better than to do certain things that would make me look "foolish" or ghetto, but I also looked down on those that participated in those reindeer games.

I had never seen the crime I heard about in Newark, but I always knew it was around me, lurking. Eventually it would come for me. And somewhere along the way, I equated lack of education and desperation to my black peers who weren't lucky enough to grow up like me. Newark was too black for me; I didn't know how to relate. So I was happy to leave for college, not realizing it was my gateway drug to caucasity.

Baltimore reminded me of Newark; it felt like home right away. However, there was a light that shined on Baltimore that at the time didn't shine on Newark. I realize now that light was gentrification mixed with quirkiness. The quirkiness is what distracted me, what drew me, what I related to. Besides my immediate family, I didn't know of any black people that were as weird or silly as me. I equated silliness with being carefree, but of course that isn't true. As a now silly 29 year old, I can assure you I am not carefree. I am weary.

Part of this weariness comes from the current state of our nation. It's exhausting, I'd like to report on it from the black perspective, but these days I only have my own. It's not that I've lost touch with black culture, but I've lost touch with the community. Post-college, I surrounded myself with wacky and interesting people, men and women of different cultural and sexual backgrounds. It was my own little bubble from the world, but in it, it's hard to admit white wasn't the default. Sure at the core of the group was a gay black man, an afro-latina lesbian, and an unfortunately-straight Asian men, but our playgrounds were wholly white spaces we inserted ourselves into, proving we could go anywhere.

Along the way, I lost the ability to relate to some black people. Occasionally, a friend would bring over a black person I didn't like because they seemed ignorant through and through. Granted, I held contempt for some of the basic white women my friends would invite over as well, but the unwanted black guests burned hotter in my spirit. Was I disappointed they weren't being "10x as good" but instead fine with the environment they were in? Was I jealous they were so at peace with themselves, that they knew where they belonged? Reflecting on it, it's still hard to tell.

So why am I exposing myself in this manner? Why am I criticizing myself? Why do I feel so lost?

Well, because I thought I had it figured out, but I don't. This year has proved that to me.

Part of me has always believed I had trouble writing because I was writing for the wrong audience, from the wrong experiences. I shifted my audience in college to educate the white and straight majorities about black and queer culture, but I lost myself along the way. I needed to be back among my people if I was going to properly write for them.

Last year, I joined an organization to not only help spread sexual health awareness and LGBT acceptance but to reconnect with black gay men. However in the last 20 months, I froze up during any event were they were the majority. I passed up invitations to black gay events because I didn't know who I would go with, to afraid to dive in on my own. I felt like a phony within my own demographic. Perhaps it's because I'm trying to be something I'm not, but still I yearn to reconnect with them.

In another facet of my life, I moved from the outskirts of the city to the downtown area two and a half years ago. I went from a mixed community to a predominantly black area experiencing an invasion from med students and young white 20-somethings. I had long considered myself a peacemaker between black and white, but that was no longer the case. The people I now live among are more like the people I left behind in Newark.

It's often that I feel the glares of the locals as I walk from the bus stop to my home. It's like they can tell I've abandoned them, that I'd rather sit up under my white friends than talk to them. And it's hard to say they're wrong. As much as I long to have a regular crew of people around me that knows how to play Spades and remembers Moesha, I don't actively seek them out.

I was robbed again at the end of last week, not even a full month after experiencing a home invasion. This time my friend and I were walking around our neighborhood playing PokemonGo, foolishly showing off our phones. We'd done it all summer; we didn't think anything of it. Before we could cross MLK Blvd, not even four blocks from our house, two black guys got us at the corner. I wanted to fight back, but they held my friend hostage with a chokehold. I didn't want to risk him getting hurt. I felt dumb; I felt betrayed; I felt humiliated. I never had much trust in white people as a whole, but living around them, I was starting to trust my own kind again - even if I still silently judged them as they stood on the corner. I would have liked nothing better than to be robbed by a white man for once.

I know I still have Uncle Tom tendencies; I'm working on them. It's still difficult when you don't feel accepted or safe around your own kind, but what have I done to make them feel accepted when they come across me?

My mind is still racing from all that's happened to me this summer, from the experiences of my entire existence. I don't want to feel other-ed anymore. In reality, though, it has to start with me. I have to change my mindset and be more open. That doesn't mean let my guard down; I've done enough of that already. However, I have to stop judging black people so harshly. Other cultures do that for us enough.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to attempt to find a black lesbian on TalkSpace* to listen to all my problems.

Word

*Not a paid advertisement, but it could be.

Liam Neelon's Daughter

I love Baltimore. That's no secret. If you count college credit, I've lived here for 11 years this September. This place is literally my home. It feels like I grew up here. People constantly mistake me for a native instead of one of Jersey's sons when they meet me. I've become very comfortable in my surroundings. Perhaps a little... too comfortable?

Before Jay-Z officially claimed he was "good on any MLK Boulevard," I made my way home one summer night after an evening of drinking. It's something I was used to doing, even during my undergrad years (though back then it was York Road). I spent a wonderful night of singing karaoke at one of the few gay bars still in Baltimore followed by post-gaming with a virtual-reality headset at my friends' place. Oddly not feeling like sleeping on a couch for once - I paid for my mattress six years ago after all - I left my friends' apartment and started my usual mile trek down MLK back to my home.

The air was crisp that night. It was cool but not chilly, just the right temperature to prevent me breaking a sweat like I'm prone to do. I was feeling myself, not only because I had a great buzz going but because I had on a very - for lack of a better term - hipster outfit on: blue overalls and a short sleeve button-up with a pattern I can only describe as summer-into-fall realness. 

I was about halfway through my walk in the shadows of the boulevard bouncing along to my karaoke greatest hits when I felt something cold against the back of my recently buzzed head. Being drunk, I felt at total peace with the world and turned around calmly as if I already knew the predicament I was facing. I soon stared down the barrel of a pistol. A gun? A glock? I just remember it felt cold, so it was definitely real. The man holding it wore a ski mask. "Take out your wallet and throw it on the ground." Without even thinking to run, I did as he said. I was basically broke anyway.

Soon I noticed two other guys with bandannas over their faces appear. One was clearly the lookout while the other kicked my wallet around to open it. He was avoiding any unnecessary fingerprints. I quickly admired the operation these three young black entrepreneurs started for themselves. "You got money on you anywhere else?" the runner asked seeing I only had three singles in my wallet. 

"Naw, but my card is in there." I offered up my debit card because I knew I could cancel it but more importantly because I remembered hearing of robbery victims being shot because they were too broke and had nothing of value to offer. Basically, they were killed for wasting the criminals time.

"Naw, you good." The runner left the card and the cash in the wallet and backed up. 

The gunman looked me up and down, realizing I was too drunk to lie or to care. "Alright, you good. Pick up your wallet and go." I did as he said, probably replied with some dumb goodbye, and continued my walk home. I was happy they didn't go for my card or phone, most likely because they were easy to trace. I was happy they didn't do as little as pistol whip me. I was happy I was too drunk to be afraid. I appreciated the Robin Hoods. Merry Men? No, that would have sounded too gay to them. Robin Hoods. 

To this day, I barely remember the gun in my face. In all honestly, I'm shocked I lasted until 29 to be held at gunpoint. My hometown Newark definitely could have had that privilege. If anything, I was sad the invincible, tipsy negro of York Road had finally been defeated on his new route. Clearly, I refrained from walking home at night for a week or two, but I'm back to my old tricks now. I'm just more observant like I always should have been.

Unfortunately, robbery seems to related to the same death entity of Final Destination fame.

Three weeks ago, I received a message from my house's group text. My roommate "Don" woke up from his nap and walked out into the hallway to find a hooded man dart out of "Chet's" bedroom. I left work early to help Don and to access the situation.

Chet beat me home and was already helping Don but obviously he was anxious and scared. I waited until Don stepped upstairs to laugh to Chet, "Ha! We got robbed." Making light of it was all I could do. Make comedy out of pain; that's what my culture does best. I looked around. The guy stole all three of the game systems we had downstairs, the controllers, the games, my laptop, Don's meds, and Magnum condoms I left on the game room table from work. I walked in the kitchen and noticed the box of Magnum condoms from my room on the stove. He must have left them behind when he got caught. I ran up to my room to see he went through my desk, but the condoms were the only thing he found of value. Likely for Chet, the robber was spooked away by Don before he could take the Xbox in his room.

When I returned downstairs, there was a knock on the door. I went to open it and then froze. I realized it was the police. I realized they had already been inside the house. I realized I was black. My heart dropped. After a beat, I unlocked the door and let the (thank the lord) friendly, mid-20s officer assigned to our case in. Don reiterated that the robber came in through the back window in the kitchen, most likely seeing our back gate was barely locked from the bike lock we were provided by the landlord. The officer asked if Don got a good look at the man, but he only remembered his black hood and possibly black gloves. 

It still hits me in waves that we were actually robbed. Again, I'm surprised it took this long to be robbed. Other friends in our neighborhood had this happen to them, and it was no pleasure for them either. I suppose now we're all a part of the same club.

Since the robbery, we've upped our security by... deadbolting the front door when we leave and making sure the back kitchen window is always locked. Lightning rarely strikes twice, but at worst they would steal my TV and Chet's remaining Xbox. 

I don't miss anything that's gone until I jokingly whine about wanting to play a game that's gone or realizing I can't freely type something up like I've neglected to do earlier in the year. Honestly, the only thing of value we lost in the robbery was Don's sense of safety at home. Hopefully he can regain it soon, but I know it's a process. The investigation's obviously still in progress, but I'm not expecting to see any of my stolen devices again. I sincerely hope I never see the stolen Magnums again.

So, why did I wait so long to write this post? Well, shit happens everyday. It makes us stronger. Also I'm still pretending like I'm not shaken by these events. Maybe I'm truly not; perhaps I just feel like I should be. Is guilt of not being traumatized a thing? 

Do I hate Baltimore after this happened to me? No, not at all. The acts of a few men do not define the acts of the many. However, if this happens a third time, I may have to reevaluate some things.

Is black on black crime a thing?  I mean, yeah, white people rob white people all the time, too. I don’t know why I thought just cause I’m black I wouldn't get robbed by the locals just cause there are plenty of whites to jack. I can get this work, too, and clearly I have.

Finally, what's the moral of the story? Purchase renter's insurance or whatever. Like most insurance, it seems useless and like an unnecessary expense until you actually need it. Guess I'll skip robbery coverage and just pay extra for natural disaster damages.

Word.

My Totally Biased 17 Best Albums of 2017

🎶 Wacko's review list's back, and it's better than ever. For New Years this year, my review list's here! 🎶

Five years running, it's about time I got a jingle, right? Welcome back to my musical ego trip that people occasionally look forward to reading. Like most years, 2017's albums seem to have a theme or two: men being especially vulnerable and producers having the time of their lives. All things considered, it makes sense that a female artist isn't at the top of my list for once. Oops, wasn't supposed to let that slip, but down scroll down yet!

There was so much great music this year, I didn't finalize my list until the 29th. There were a few albums I didn't get to, so pleeeeeease let me know if them were fire. As always, I drop this list to start a discourse. 

A reminder of my criteria: 

1) Does the album have a thesis and follow it? 

2) How much does the album knock? 

3) Does this album speak to me/the masses?  

4) How many tracks standout vs fade into the background? 

Without further adieu, let's discover a few of my favorite things.

17) Ty Dolla $ign's Beach House 3
Release Date: October 27th
Runtime: 51:39

Secretly, I've always been drawn to Ty Dolla $ign's melodic voice, but I denied myself pleasure because I filed him under Trap Rap Goons™. It wasn't until last year that I decided to stop being a bitter old nigga and give the new sound a chance. I'm thankful I did because Beach House 3 had me milly rocking in every room of my house. This album is also great for riding around a video game's large explorable world. From the first song, Ty sets us up for a conversation about all the fame-greedy among us over a few simple guitar chords. From there, we receive the first of many Famous interludes that introduces the song to follow perfectly. While Ty feels free to experiment with dubstep reggae (shout out to Skrillex and Damian Marley), most of his production is the usual trap beats with a slightly softer edge. And though the album is riddled with features, Ty truly shines on the last quarter of Beach House 3 when he takes time to dance in the moonlit sand alone.

Hit Single: 
Love U Better (feat Lil Wayne & The-Dream)
Standout Tracks:
Droptop in the Rain [ft Tory Lanez]
All The Time
Skip It:
Lil Favorite [ft MadeinTYO] - because you can hear this track from anyone else in the game

16) Logic's Everybody
Release Date: May 5th
Runtime: 70:56

Logic has been on my radar since he randomly appeared on a track with Childish Gambino a few years back. Unfortunately, I wrote him off as another lame white rapper like G Eazy (which is fucked up, because I liked G Eazy's Endless Summer mixtape). It wasn't until his suicide prevention song finally reached me that I decided to give him a chance. Imagine my surprise when I not only discovered this is his third studio album, but that he is also of mixed descent. I know this because he reminds us on every other track. While Everybody easily wins this year's Thesis Award, Logic relies too heavily on speaking directly to his audience after he raps on more than two tracks. That said, his interludes with Neil Degrasse-Tyson counterbalance how annoying his self-delivered sermons are. Exploring topics of black/white relations, parenting, and reincarnation, this conscious rapper earned enough respect from me to avoid using mixed raced slurs in this review. He's heard enough of them and I need to work on not being so problematic anyway.

Hit Single: 
1-800-273-8255 [ft Alessia Cara and Khalid]
Standout Tracks:
Everybody
America [ft Black Thought, Chuck D, Big Lenbo, & No I.D.]
Skip It:
Mos Definitely - because you can tell how badly he wanted a featured verse from Yasiin Bey

15) Haim's Something to Tell You
Release Date: July 7th
Runtime: 42:34

Every so often an album makes it on the listen not because I connected with it but because someone very close to me fell in love with it after I introduced them to it. This year's Best Friend Connector goes to Something to Tell You. The sisters Haim have a way of stringing together lyrics and harmonies that hook me song after song. Meanwhile, for my friend, it was the album's breakup elements that really spoke to her. In my experience, finding an artist to marry a bop with heartbreak is rare, and I'm not sure where Robyn is these days. A few of their songs are reminiscent of Fleetwood Mac's sound, with one even sounding surprisingly Neo R&B-ish without tripping the appropriation alarm. That said, once you get into the album, a few of the songs can start to blind together. This isn't totally terrible as it allows for it to become a vibe. The songs are easy to pick up, so sliding around in socks as you clean the house is definitely this album's main function in my life.


Hit Single:
Want You Back
Standout Tracks:
Little of Your Love
Walking Away
Skip It:
Found It In Silence - because it's the most stereotypical use of their collective talent

14) Sam Smith's The Thrill of It All (Deluxe)
Release Date: November 3rd
Runtime: 35:38 (49:24)

To be honest, The Thrill of It All took its time growing on me. Though I truly can't, I like to pretend I can hear the loss of huskiness in Sam Smith's voice that originally drew me to him. However, the now-slim British songbird is back to sing for all of our dramatic homosexual montages (regardless of your sexual orientation). While his debut album focused more on dealing with when you'll never obtain your crush/love's affection, The Thrill of It All is geared towards those ready to run away as fast as they can before they turn back around and return to their favorite mistake. While the tracks don't differ much melodically, Sam still manages to hit on different angles of when it's time to chuck up them dueces - even singing from the perspective of the person left weeping in the dust with his song Burning. However, his choo-choo-like singing on Midnight Train is very much appreciated. I hope Sam can break away from his Adele comparisons more with his next album, maybe with some help from his Disclosure brothers? A guy can dream.

Hit Single: 
Too Good at Goodbyes
Standout Tracks:
One Last Song
HIM
Skip It:
The Thrill of It All - as a boycott because why isn't the title track on the gotdamn regular edition

13) Sampha's Process
Release Date: February 3rd
Runtime: 40:17

Finally free from Sbtrkt's Bass-ment, Sampha finally graces us with his long awaited debut album. I loved this album when it was released but it quickly fell to the wayside as more records reached my ears. It also didn't help that a podcast ruined Sampha for me by saying he sings with cold grits in his mouth, so now you must have the misfortune as well. All jokes aside, Process is a very personal album to Sampha as he deals with the loss of his mother to cancer and losing himself in the spotlight. The very first sound you hear is a heart monitor as Sampha pulls you into the operating room, trying to numb himself from the pain with Plastic 100°C. Throughout the album, we listen to him slip further and further away, each track sounding nothing like the one before it yet all connected. By the time we reach Under, we're back on the operating table hoping we come out of the other side. For this reason, I create a new superlative: The Empathy Evoker. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go cry in the fetal position for an hour.

Hit Single: 
(No One Knows Me) Like the Piano
Standout Tracks:
Blood On Me
Incomplete Kisses
Skip It:
Take Me Inside - because after Like the Piano, it pales in comparison as a ballad

12) Charlotte Gainsbourg's Rest
Release Date: November 17th
Runtime: 46:23

You can be mad that I included an album with lyrics your little, feeble American brains can't understand all you want; blame Pitchfork for getting her single Rest stuck in my head. Our third entry from the UK, Charlotte Gainsbourg is a British-French singer/actress that has been in the game longer than I've been alive, Rest being her fifth LP. I would wonder why I've never heard of her before now, but I'm sure it's because I struggled to pass French in college. However, that doesn't stop me from enjoying or attempting to understand her sly Franglish lyrics. Rest very easily plays from start to finish like it could soundtrack an alternative version of the movie Drive, so I'm already hooked there. Once you dig deeper, you discover the theme of death in the wake of her father and half-sister's departure from this world. Don't pick up the bottle to drown your sorrows too fast because she talks about alcohol addiction, too. Have no fear, the album isn't a totally bummer. Stick around until Les Oxalis' bonus track that gives hope for Ms Gainsbourg's future.

Hit Single:
Rest
Standout Tracks:
Deadly Valentine
Les Oxalis
Skip It: 
Dans vos airs - because French titles scare me, too

11) N.E.R.D's No_one_Ever_Really_Dies
Release Date: December 15th
Runtime: 51:09

Pharrell and the fam are back to heat up this cold, frigid ass winter, and you heathens best be thankful! I've come across a few criticisms of the album of people saying it's not what they expected after hearing Lemon. It must be remembered that N.E.R.D. simply contains both members of the Neptunes but is not the Neptunes. Their sound has always bordered on the edge of rock and experimental hip-hop, with their self-titled album being the funkiest of all their efforts. Every track is a different kind of bop, some a bit more jaring on first listen than others. Within each spoon full of melodic sugar is a dose of medicine, including messages about police brutality, learning we all have positivity to share, surviving trauma, and getting it right when people ask "What the hell are you on, man?" No_one_Ever_Really_Dies is riddled with features from Kendrick Lamar, Andre 3000, Future and more, but I love none as much as the child that sings the letter G on Thunder Fire Magic Prayer. It's a weird album for the eccelatic in all of us.

Hit Single:
Lemon [ft Rihanna]
Standout Tracks:
Viola [ft Gucci Mane & Wale]
Don't Don't Do It [ft Kendrick Lamar]
Skip It:

Lifting You [ft Ed Sheeran] - because it's weird hearing a reggae inspired song featuring someone who was on Game of Thrones

10) St. Vincent's Masseduction
Release Date: October 13th
Runtime: 41:36

Though I constantly read the album as Masseducation, Masseduction definitely has something to teach us: the art of a well balanced album. You want ballads, she's got ballads. You want guitar riffs, she's got the riffs. You want unexpected 808 drums, she's got the beat, she's got the beat. But in all seriousness, St. Vincent's subject matter is so diverse and dense, I haven't had the time to full devote myself to the dissection it truly deserves. Maybe if I did, it would be higher on this list. With full apologies to her, I know this album is not just a snack but a full course meal I'll enjoy anytime I take it out of the fridge. The production value is diverse and cohesive. The lyrics I have managed to catch are sway and twirl worthy. If the goosebumps on my arm are any indication, this might be one of her most personal records to date, and that would be a shame to miss out on. For this, I award Masseduction Miss Congeniality.

Hit Single: 
Los Ageless
Standout Tracks:
Pills
Masseduction
Skip It:
Sugarboy - because it's only a long intro into Los Ageless

9) Superfruit's Future Friends
Release Date: September 15th
Runtime: 55:08

I seem to be in the mood of giving out more "awards" than ever this year. So, here is my pick for Unapologetic Pop Favs of the Year. With Avi (the phenomenal bass singer) departing from Pentatonix, many of the members took 2017 to focus on their solo endeavors. Well, duo endeavor in the case of Mitch Grassi and Scott Hoying. Future Friends was released as two EPs over the summer, being combined into a full length LP later. Though they often take turns, half of the songs feature Mitch going high and Scott finding his bass roots as they sing together. That said, Future Friends feels more like Mitch's breakout role after Scott took the brunt of the lead in Pentatonix' first album of originals. I had my favorite tracks from the album with plenty of tracks shrugged off as filler, but as Superfruit dropped a video for nearly every song, I soon found something to like about all of them. So grab a friend, decide who has the higher register, and learn these easy pop hits from your new favs.

Hit Single:
Imaginary Parties
Standout Tracks:
Deny U
Hurry Up
Future Friends
Skip It:
Keep Me Coming  - because as one of the last tracks on the albums, it might be their most phoned in song

8) Miguel's War & Leisure
Release Date: December 1st
Runtime: 48:02

Just like the last time Miguel wandered between my ears, I wanted to hate. Apparently I still feel like I was the one kicked between the eyes when he misjudged his leaping abilities. Luckily for Miguel, his singing abilities are undeniable and apparently his production skills are also on point, receiving minimal help with the album. With Sky Walker being the lead single, most of War & Leisure feels like you're hovering, teetered to the ground only by what worldly obligations you have before you. To say Miguel's chief export is sex is an understatement; he does "have a banana clip on his left for you," after all. While offering the best today's R&B vibe has to offer, Miguel pays tribute to his forefather Prince's sound with Told You So. Rounded out with features from J. Cole, Travis Scott, and Rick Ross, War and Leisure has a little something for everyone. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to log onto a dating app and change my most listened to song to Banana Clip to let these queers know what time it is.

Hit Single:
Sky Walker [ft Travis Scott]
Standout Tracks:
Pineapple Skies
Told You So
Come Through and Chill [ft J. Cole & Salaam Remi]
Skip It:
City of Angels - only because Miguel still has some work to do before I allow him into the rock and roll lane

7) Kendrick Lamar's DAMN.
Release Date: April 14th
Runtime: 54:54

If Kendrick Lamar made hip-hop albums before, DAMN. is definitely his departure into rap. The difference is hard to explain, but if you listen to his older work, you know exactly what I mean. Obviously, I got upset with the change and placed DAMN. on the self to collect dust for a few months. After I got over myself, I realized Kendrick was still spitting his same conscious lines but evolving his sound, supplying us with more singles, making the album not so dense: all things I critiqued his near-perfect sophomore album for lacking. Eating my words, I now love DAMN. The inclusion of the legendary Kid Capri to transform the album into more of a mixtape and reducing each song to represent one word/theme were genius moves. To the delight of most hip-hop heads, the album's few features come from singers, proving Kendrick to be an emcee that can stand on his own. Production-wise, the album offers up distincts beats. DAMN. truly could have been on top of this list... but 2017 provided stiff competition.

Hit Single: 
HUMBLE.
Standout Tracks:
ELEMENT.
LOVE. [ft Zacari]
Skip It:
FEEL. - only because I can hear the smooth funkadelic sounds of To Pimp a Butterfly trying to sneak back out

6) Thundercat's Drunk
Release Date: February 24th
Runtime: 51:24

An early favorite, Drunk speaks to my heart and not because it's my constant state of being when the sun goes down. With how ethereal Thundercat's voice and production are, it's amazing the album wasn't called High or Shrooms. Then I realized of the LP's 23 tracks, only 6 clock in over three minutes - the longest lasting four. From my time curating playlists for parties, I can tell you drunkards have short attention spans; so touche, Thundercat. Though he spends a track telling people to not tweet their lives away, most of his tracks are filled with whimsy and nonsense. One of the album's intro tracks instructs listeners to "beat your meat;" another meows and explores how fun it must be to be a cat, naturally; later, he explores the wonders that is manga/anime culture in Tokyo. The album is like a blur, making you question whether that was Michael McDonald trying to seduce you or Wiz Khalifa surprisingly not rapping solely about getting high. And was that Kendrick Lamar on yet another person's album? Enjoy this record with a glass of Sprite if you want; you'll leave buzzed anyway.

Hit Single:
Show Me The Way [ft Michael McDonald & Kenny Loggins]
Standout Tracks:
Drink Dat [ft Wiz Khalifa]
Them Changes
Skip It:
Friend Zone - only because while I love the song, it doesn't exist, and how can you love something if it doesn't exist?

5) Dirty Projectors' Self Titled
Release Date: Feb 21st
Runtime: 48:14

From the church bells that ring in Keep Your Name, David Longstreth clocks your attention right away. His stretched out vocals stick to the walls of your brain, causing you to feel haunted by the friend you no longer see because of artistic differences. The sentiment carries into the second track until you reach Up in Hudson: a call to wash yourself clean and start new, the horns and bubbling drums as encouraging as Longstreth is happy to welcome his new collaborators for the album. The ride continues on and on, with disjointed sounds that are still aesthetically appealing with lyrics that compel you to live a better life after self reflection in your own little bubble. This being my first Dirty Projectors' project, I have nothing to compare it to besides its peers of the year. I have been entranced with every listen I give this self-titled seventh album. Its lyrics are honest and reflective and relatable. Listen to this in a quiet room with an hour to yourself, because every time I close my eyes, I can envision the scene Longstreth projects and I smile.

Hit Single:
Cool Your Heart [ft Dawn Richards]
Standout Tracks:
Little Bubble
Up in Hudson

Skip It:

Ascent Through the Clouds - only because the autotune on this track might remind you of 808s and Heartbreak

4) SZA's Ctrl
Release Date: June 9th
Runtime: 49:01

A mixtape songstress for years now, SZA finally drops her debut album. To quote the youth: issa vibe. Featuring her mother on interludes throughout, CTRL demonstrates the everyday person's struggle to find control from dating woes to growing up in a 2010s kind of world. The production is eccelatic, dipping between woozy drums to guitar riffs in all shapes in forms to a few traditional R&B sounds. SZA's voice is like velvet caressing your body after a warm shower, but don't forget her lyricism. CTRL gives us iconic lines like "skrt skrt on niggas" and "you like 9 to 5; I'm the weekend." She also seems to have an infinity for 90s It Girls, naming one of her tracks Drew Barrymore and another Go Gina after the leading woman from the sitcom Martin; she also hops on the same shrimp boat Frank Ocean rode and sings about Forrest Gump being more than he seems. I guess it's canon that the black community sees Tom Hanks as one of us.  All of CTRL's elements come together to crown SZA as this year's Avatar of R&B, despite being sabotaged by Solange's direction for the Weekend video over old Beyonce tweets the internet dug up. But we were all young and bitter once.

Hit Single:
The Weekend
Standout Tracks:
Go Gina
20 Something
Skip It:
Normal Girl - only because, like, what is "normal"?

3) Gorillaz' Humanz (Deluxe)
Release Date: April 28th
Runtime: 49:19 (68:55)

Back after seven years, Blur frontman Damon Albarn and animator Jamie Hewlett reunite to give my teenaged-Toonami heart a reason to beat on. From the first listen, the Gorillaz' fifth studio album rang in my ears. While many have torn Humanz down for not having an unified sound, I disagree. The Gorillaz - always being a collaborative effort from artists across the genres - use a multitude of sounds and vibes and continually find a way to string them together. With Humanz, a cohesive story is formed of the band reacting to the world falling apart around them, retreating deeper and deeper into their "secret" hideout until all of their members reconvene ready to restart the world. Or you can listen to it as an apocalyptic dance party; both work. With features from Grace Jones to DRAM to Zebra Katz, Humanz is not short on providing us with the full homo sapien experience. However, amidst the chorus of voices, 2D's (or Albarn's) seems to fade into the background. While I miss it, this seems to represent a cis, straight(?), white male stepping aside to let black and female and occasionally queer voices to be heard. By the end of the album, it sounds as if the gang is ready to take on the world; but in the extended director's cut (the deluxe version), we find our heroes gathered together joining hands and singing to the end of the world. How will you choose to listen to the album?

Hit Single:
Saturn Barz [ft Popcaan]
Standout Tracks:
Strobelite [ft Peven Everett]
Let Me Out [ft Mavis Staples & Pusha T]
The Apprentice [ft Rag'n'Bone, Zebra Katz, & RAY BLK]
Skip It:
Momentz [ft De La Soul] - only because I can hear this being a frat house's favorite track

2) Jay-Z' 4:44 (Deluxe)
Release Date: June 30th
Runtime: 36:11 (46:18)

Back for the twelfth time, Jay-Z returns to apologize for Magna Carta Holy Grail! ...no? Is he apologizing for Kingdom Come? Okay, why are you getting mad at me for bringing up old shit? In all seriousness, 4:44 is arguably Jay-Z's best album as he leaves behind his boastful ways and reveals himself to be a reflective and flawed man, apologetic and grown. Dubbed the Blackest Album of the Year by me, Jay-Z takes time out of his busy schedule to school us - the black delegation - on building generational wealth and refraining from posting money-phone selfies on Instagram. He wants to see us all invest our money and create our own businesses; I take this to mean he wants more investors in Tidal. When he's not giving out lessons so "hopefully ya'll wouldn't have to go through that," he's revealing how the industry hates to see black people shine, outing his mom, and airing out his dirty laundry. Though it's so much more, 4:44 will always be the response to Beyonce's Lemonade. To have the title track be his actual apology followed by his wife's vocals on the song after and call it Family Feud, I will always appreciate great album structure. Backing all of this are NO I.D.'s production skills and samples that truly elevate 4:44 to a godlike level. But then to have Blue Ivy freestyle on the deluxe edition of the album, bruh, are you kidding me?! So what kept this album from taking the number one spot? Well... cheaters don't deserve to come in first.

Hit Single:
The Story of O.J.
Standout Tracks:
4:44
Bam [ft Damian Marley]
Skip It:
Caught Their Eyes [ft Frank Ocean] - only because Jay-Z really loves talking about how much he went to Paris; oh, wait, he was chasing Beyonce on his knees begging for forgiveness? Never mind, let it play

1) Tyler, the Creator's Flower Boy
Release Date: July 21st
Runtime: 46:33

Oh, ya'll wanted a twist, huh?
I've long had an interesting relationship with Tyler, the Creator's music. While I was drawn by his Nigerian charm and his spine-crunching beats, his brash nature and occasional [read: frequent] use of certain slurs kept me from claiming him as one of my favs. When he dropped his first single Who Dat Boy for his fourth album, I was attracted like a bear to honey, but this time I was prepared for the bee's stinger. Imagine my surprise when I was greeted by smooth melodies, R&B features for days, and no inclusion of the word faggot at all. Who is this Tyler and what has he done with the one I knew and feared?
Whether (Scum Fuck) Flower Boy is autobiographical or fictional, Tyler allows us in to see his vulnerable side. He has no one to watch Clarence with. No one to understand how anxiety ridden he is. No one in his life to keep him from obsessing over cars to distract himself. Each song flows seamlessly into the next thanks to his own production skills as he leads us on a journey of self discovery. Flower Boy plays like the diary your best friend left open to a particular page on his bed for you to find. Not only do you find that he's possibly bi, that he's "been kissing white boys since 2004," but that he has a crush on you. Oh, the teenaged drama of it all! As a depressed, lonely, dramatic, queer boy, I have no idea why I relate to this album.
Though I'm harping on the sexuality aspect, Flower Boy is an album of self reflection and admittance anyone can relate to. All of his featured artists, including Kali Uchis and Jaden Smith, lend their voices to orchestrate a beautiful chorus. Whether he's rapping or trying to sing, Tyler's lyrics are descriptive and masterful. Flower Boy is lacking in no aspect. It is with great pleasure I award Best Album of the Year to a man for the first time in my short reviewing career. Congrats, Mr. Okonma.

Hit Single:
Who Dat Boy [ft A$AP Rocky]
Standout Tracks:
Boredom
911/Mr. Lonely [ft Frank Ocean & Steve Lacy]
Pothole [ft Jaden Smith]
Skip It:
Enjoy Right Now, Today - only because you don't deserve this beautifully crafted ending credits instrumental


Honorable Mentions
Ariel Pink's Dedicated to Bobby Jameson
Calvin Harris' Funk Wav Bounce Vol. 1
Kelela's Take Me Apart
King Krule's The OOZ
Lorde's Melodrama
Mac DeMarco's This Old Dog
Syd's Fin
Washed Out's Mister Mellow


Welp, another review list in the bag. Thanks for rocking with me all these years. I wonder if I'll keep increasing the number of albums I critique as the years go on. Only time will tell. Until then, you can check out my back catalog here: 2016, 2015, 2014, and 2013. Merry 2018, you scoundrels. 

Word.



I'm coming off my Apple-high, so this year please enjoy this year's best tracks via Spotify. (Bug Jay-Z to stop being good at marketing and share his music with other platforms.)

Year of the Transition

With everything that happened in 2016, my friends and I may have been overly optimistic about 2017. At our yearly New Years Day brunch, we usually brainstorm a name for what the coming year has instore for us. It started very jokingly in 2014: Year of the Butt Stuff. With our heads still up our asses, we foresaw things repeating and named 2015 Year of the Throwback; plenty of shows and movies saw revivals that year, so we felt magical. 2016, however, was a brunch full of shady jokes and insults. We named it Year of the Savage in tribute of that day. Little did we know our true power.

Realizing that with great power comes much responsibility, I led the charge for naming 2017 Year of the Blessing. Things were so rough for us all and the country, there didn't seem anywhere to go but up. However, a true savage never dies, and 2016 still had its claws in our backs. Throughout the year, couples broke up, homes were broken into, jobs were lost or unobtained, and the country looked bleaker than ever as Trump and the Republicans/Conservatives undid everything Barack touched.

It's been mentioned that as we get older, things seem worse and worse because we continue to see the world for what it is and how bleek our lives can be. I don't want to believe that. I refuse to focus on the wackness; I want to see the dopeness.

That said, this year has produced wonderful things. Two of my best friends welcomed their first daughter into the world, and while she had her complications healthwise, she continued to be a shining bundle of joy every time I saw her. Beyonce also had her twins, so.

For a multitude of reasons, many of us in the friend group have moved to new homes in Baltimore. Some upgrades, some downgrades, but we're saving money and in better headspaces. Thanks to this, some friendships have become stronger than ever. One friend even purchased an Oculus headset and I didn't break his tv when I tried it out; if that's not moving up and helping build relationships, I don't know what is.

Job offers popped up: from climbing the corporate ladder with more conventional hours to surveying Baltimore's syphilis infected population. The actors among us are still getting work, some even crafting powerful shows about women of colors struggles through the lens of the Salem witch trials. I even heard someone became a captain without acquiring a need for an eyepatch.

And through we age and lose friends, new ones took their place and proved to be wonderful improvements to your life.

With all the blessings in disguise that have come this year, I revised 2017 to be Year of the Transition. It could be argued that our lives are in a constant state of transition if we are truly living. If that's the case, then I don't think we've been wrong about naming a year yet.

Here's to 2018 and whatever wackiness it may bring.

Word

Be My Mentor

Karola College’s campus was just as beautiful at night as it was in the daylight. The lamp posts around the quad illuminated the statues of the school’s founders, one for each path. Winston Aquinas’ granite eyes watched Andre trot his path until he reached the bridge. Andre still couldn’t get over how overwhelmingly white his soon-to-be freshmen class was; the emerald green of the grass and Victory by Puff Daddy and the Family blearing from the lacrosse field had distracted him during his college tour. He was happy his mother found three other black mothers to bond with during her stay. He wondered where the three black daughters had gone off to. He wondered if he’d find any other black people during his Freshman Summer Orientation, but he doubted it.

It was only after Andre crossed the bridge that he saw two black men and one of the daughters, Candace, hanging out at the front desk of his dorm for the weekend. He rushed to the door so quickly, he forgot to take his temporary swipe card out of his pocket and embarrassed himself by jerking on the door so hard he flew backwards when it didn’t open. One of the black men laughed as Candace opened the door for her new friend. “Hey. Are you alright?” she asked.

He brushed himself off as he stood and entered the building. “I meant to do that,” he replied.

“Sure, you did. Dumb shit like that is how people remember you: for better or for worse,” the man working behind the desk laughed. He was a short black man with a long goatee, his work shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his scrawny arms.

The slightly overweight but finely dressed black man who hadn’t laughed approached Andre. “Don’t mind, Tyree. He’s had a slow, painful night cause he’s been behind that desk since 4pm.”

“I shoulda been outta here at 8, yo! Ain’t nobody ask me to work this double,” Tyree protested. Andre noticed the clock on the wall behind Tyree; it read 11:47.

“I’m Kain, by the way. And you are?” Kain extended his hand to Andre who was dumbfounded for some reason. He felt himself akin to the two men in the lobby for more reason than one.

Candace sprang into action again. “His name is Andre. He’s a little shy from what I’ve been guessing, but he’s good people. Yo, Andre, these guys are sophomores.” Michael looked at the men again and realized that Kain’s facial hair was as patchy as his own, Tyree’s face silkier than his. Them being a year older seemed to check out.

“Damn, girl. I wanted to make Dre guess how old we were.” Kain pushed Candace softly on the shoulder as he sauntered back over to his spot next to the front desk.

“It’s Andre, actually.”

“He speaks! And no, I think you’re more of a Dre. Or at least you will be when you start to get more comfortable with your sexuality.”

Andre blushed as a white student swiped into the building. He kept his head down until Tyree checked the student in and told them which hallway to head down. “I’m.. I’m bi, actually”

Kain smirked. “Please, sis, you’re just saying that; plenty of gays say the same thing. Ain’t no such thing as bi. Your walk says it all.”

Andre ignored his comment about bi guys. “My sister always said I walked funny. Shit, you think she knows, too?”

“Damn, boi, are you not out yet?” Tyree leaned over his counter.

“I mean, not completely. Like, I came out the last month of high school - and I plan on coming out at some point my first semester because fuck it, new school new me - but my family, no. No they don’t know. At least I don’t think they do.” Andre’s brow furrowed as he looked at Candace.

Candace put her hands up in defense. “Oh trust, I’m not gonna out you. My momma doesn’t know about me yet either.” Andre almost acted out in surprise but then he looked at what she was wearing: her hair dreaded with a snapback gingerly resting on top, a loose tank top with a t-shirt underneath, Nike Air Max (he guessed). He sprung over to Candace and hugged her tight. “Yo, you aight? We not that cool yet.”

“Let me linger a little longer,” Kain said. “He’s just happy to be around his new queer family.”

Andre released Candace from his grasp and turned to Kain and Tyree. “So you two, too?” They nodded. “So you two are…?”

Tyree and Kain laughed, Tyree a little harder than Kain. Kain crossed his arms and waited for his friend to catch his breath. “Boy, please,” Tyree started. “We go after the same niggas, not each other.”

Andre wondered if the two were rivals, looking them both over. After considering, he’d probably sleep with Tyree. Kain on the other hand, he seemed someone Andre could learn from. He carried himself with an air of total confidence and control. Without realizing it, Andre stared at him in admiration. Kain noticed.

“Well, listen, if ya’ll wanna hang out more, Tyree should actually be getting off in the next few minutes. You two are welcome to hang in our room if you want to avoid your white roommates for a little longer,” Kain offered. Like clockwork, a white girl with a green shirt like Tyree’s swiped into the building. She paused when she saw four black kids sitting around the desk.

“Oh, hey girl. Don’t mind them; they’re with me and we are definitely leaving,” Tyree said as he stood up with all his belongings already packed. He turned to Andre and Candace. “So ya’ll coming or naw?” The freshmen looked at each other and shrugged at each other, then nodded their heads.

Kain threw his arms around them. “Stick with us, young gays, and you too can survive the fuckery that is KaCo.” They mouthed “KaCo?” to each other. “KaCo. Karola College. Damn, ya’ll weren’t paying attention at all during ya’lls orientation, huh?”

~~~~

The demographic in the Cultural Resource Center (or CRC) was one completely opposite from the rest of Karola College. Everyday, students of color would study, eat lunch, or seek general refuge from their white peers in its third floor location of the Student Center. Tonight, however, a special event took place that drew in nearly every freshman of color who cared to be a part of the ethnic underground: The Mixer.

The Mixer, as its name implies, was a mixer held the second week of the Fall semester matching incoming students with upperclassmen in hopes that their transition into the college would be as smooth as possible. In its natural evolution, it became a mentor/mentee program that lasted year long occasionally leading to lifelong friendships.

Andre sat in a corner across from the glass door entrance. Now that the matching was over, he contemplated taking a plate of food back to his dorm, but he didn’t want to seem rude. Most of his friends from his pre-orientation the week prior were in attendance. He thought to say hello to Candace and the other girls he met during Summer Orientation, but they were too busy laughing with their new big sisters to look his way.

He turned his head and saw Jerry talking to Diaz, Andre’s RA. Diaz also happened to be Andre’s new mentor. Andre wasn’t sure why they had both been paired with him. Diaz seemed more than capable of handling two freshmen, but he seemed more of a match for Jerry. Both were from Brooklyn, business majors (at least Jerry intended on trying a few classes out), and loud as all hell. Though the CRC was a stew of conversation, their chat could be heard in its entirety by Andre.

“Yo, I’m telling you, don’t knock the cafe downstairs,” Diaz yelled. “Every thursday, the Mexican spot downstairs serves fried chicken burritos from the chicken spot next to them. Just don’t eat that shit every thursday; you don’t need to be gaining no freshman 15.”

“Nah, b. Never that.” Jerry and Diaz laughed. Andre mocked their laughing as he reached for his orange soda on the table next to them. He thought to join them, but his encounters with his RA weren’t too fruitful. He enjoyed hanging with his roommate Tyree more, who oddly enough was not in attendance. Andre realized it was not mandatory that everyone participated in the program. He only wished that at least a journalism major had signed up; that would have eased his frustration with not receiving his first pick.

He scanned the room again and saw Hank talking to an Asian upperclassman. He had never seen the Asian gentleman before, but Andre figured if anyone was going to match with White Hank it would be another minority within the minority group. It seemed like everyone had a better match than his.

A cackle broke out from the front corner of the room by the bookshelves. Andre hesitantly turned his gaze to the originator of the sound, though he already knew who it was from. There stood Kain laughing with his mentee Jared. Andre had only met Jared a few times in passing in the CRC, but he knew they were both apart of the same club. Partially thanks to what he thought to be his budding gaydar, but also because anywhere Jared was, Kain was right by his side. For a second, Andre thought Jared might have been Kain’s boyfriend, but after their first encounter Andre realized Jared was the gayer freshman. Jared and Kain would quote gay movie line after black movie line after chick flick line together, they complimented each other’s fashion, but the activity Andre deemed as their favorite was making him feel like a baby gay, which he was. He just hated the instant bond the two of them shared. If there was anyone he wished would have adopted two mentees, it was Kain.

Andre knew that the upperclassmen had a say in who they wanted to mentor, most of all talkative and persuasive Kain. It pained him to know that he wasn’t chosen, and he couldn’t figure out the reason why. He thought to go up to them or at least to join Diaz and Jerry’s conversation and eavesdrop on what they might be talking about.

“Hey. Andre, you aight, dawg?” Taylor asked. In his concentration, Andre hadn’t noticed his jock friend sneak up on him. He nodded he was fine. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure ‘cause you’re sitting by yourself and tearing up.”

Andre reached up to his left eye and wiped away the water that collected there. “No, I think I’m just tired. Yeah.. I stayed up too late and had an 8am class and I don’t really believe in naps. I, ah, I think I’mma head out.”

“Oh, aight. I’ll see you tomorrow then. GangGang!”

“GangGang,” Andre responded to his friend’s inside joke. He picked up his plate of food and left his half finished can of soda on the table. Diaz laughed at a reference Jerry made. Kain noticed as Andre left the CRC, making a note to himself to catch up with him later.

~~~~

April stormed out of Andre’s bedroom crying.  She was a good Christian girl he had been courting for the last month hoping she might be the Topanga to his Corey Matthews. He now doubted she was the one.

“Well, she took that better than I would have expected,” Ravi said.

Andre moped in front of his laptop. “Is it bad I don’t even feel like running after her?” Ravi shrugged. “We’re good though, right?”

“Dude, you’ve been a great roommate and friend. We’re boys for life no matter what. This is nothing.” Andre appreciated being spared a white direct roommate, though his white suitemates weren’t bad guys. There was just something about having an Indian roommate that liked a whole slew of white music that made the culture shock a lot easier to handle.

“Thanks, Ravi. You’re great, too.” Andre turned back around to face his laptop. “I guess I should do some damage control before she starts blabbing.”

“Yeah, she’ll probably tell her roommates and then it’ll just spread from there. What are you gonna do?”

Andre pulled up his Facebook profile and began typing into the status bar. “Andre M Drake is… BIG, minus the G. And… posted.” A smile flashed across his face as a weight lifted.

“Dude, that’s badass. Hell of a headline.” Ravi reached under his bed and pulled out two shot glasses. “Soooo, shot to celebrate.”

“As tempted as I am to start drinking, I’m gonna hang onto to my sobriety and just ride this coming out high.”

“Fair enough.” Ravi stored one of the shot glasses back in its case and reached for his cheap vodka. “One of these days we’re gonna get smashed together, man.” As he poured himself a shot, Andre watched the likes on his status pour in. He was pleased his friends were as accepting as he had hoped, even Taylor and Jerry.

A minute later, Kain liked his status and sent him a text. “Come over,” it read. “We should talk.” Andre felt giddy; he had never been summoned to Kain’s dorm before. He wondered if his act of bravery would be rewarded with Kain accepting him as an honorary mentee. Hopefully he’d be a part of the shopping trips he took Jared on, he thought.

“I’m gonna go for a walk. I’ll probably be back in an hour or so.”

Ravi chased his shot with the last of an old can of Coke. “Fresh out the closet and already patrolling for guys. Go, Andre, go!”

Andre shushed his roommate. He would have to get used to people making those kind of jokes, but he welcomed them. He felt this was the beginning of something beautiful.

~~~~

“It was horrible, Candace,” Andre said as his friend opened her door and he barged in. He paced the floor of her dorm as she took a seat next to her laptop and phone. “That was not what I wanted. Not what I went over there for. He… he tricked me. I’m, I’m just confused.”

Candace leaned in. “You know, you never said why you were coming over, so a lil background would be nice.”

He stopped pacing and caught his breath. “Sorry. Did you see my status?”

“Yes, congratulations. Don’t know why you had to make such a big deal out of it, b--”

“I didn’t want April telling everyone before I could.”

“Oh shit,” Candace sat at attention. “So that’s why you did that?”

“Yeah, but that’s not even the biggest part of my night.” Candace sat back so that Andre could continue. “So after I posted that, I got a text from Kain saying he wanted me to come over. I’m like ‘Oh, cool, maybe we’re finally gonna be good friends now that I’m out.’ Well, I go over there and he’s drinking wine, which is fine. You know, it’s Friday night and all. People like to unwind. He offers me a glass, too, but I say I’m good. You know me.

“So we’re talking for a bit in his bedroom because he doesn’t have a common room. He’s telling me how proud of me he is for coming out, even if it was as bisexual. I try to tell him I really think I am and that bi guys exist, but he just rolls his eyes and finishes his wine. He goes out into his kitchen to get another glass, so I snoop around his room a little bit. Nothing too out of the ordinary. Then I see lube on his nightstand. I look a little closer and see his dildo’s head sticking out from under the bed. But like, we all have needs, so I think nothing of it.

“That’s when he comes back into the room. Candace, he came back in a wifebeater and his underwear. ‘Do you like what you see?’ he asks me. I don’t know rather he’s talking about himself or his nightstand, so I don’t answer. I just look down, not sure where to look. He walks up to me and hugs me. He’s… soft, obviously. Very warm. And I could feel his… yeah, he was at attention. I was confused. I was turned on. I didn’t know what to do. So I just went along with it.

“I let him strip me down. He pushed me on his bed, and he started going down on me. He would come up occasionally to kiss me, but he used too much teeth on my lips. I didn’t even know that was a thing. I got a little hard, but not enough to do anything. I took my flaccidness as a sign, and I started to push him off me. I told him I had to go and got dressed as fast as I could. And now I’m here and I’m not really sure how to process all this. I just wanted to be friends with him. Learn from him.”

“Well, technically, he was about to teach you something,” Candace covered her mouth so that Andre wouldn’t see her smirking. “I’m sorry; that was rude. Are you gonna be okay?” She looked down at her phone as a notification flashed across the screen.

“Yeah, it wasn’t that traumatic. I just wasn’t expecting that. Like at all. Like, it’s not that I don’t find him attractive. I could. I just don’t. That sounds bad. It’s really not his size, though. Ugh. I just wanted him to mentor me. Is that so much to ask?” Andre collapsed on the floor next to Candace’s legs and leaned on them.

She pushed him off. “Well, it looks like he’s about to drag you. Kain just texted me about his time with you. He says you had erectile dysfunction.”

Andre didn’t respond. He had nothing to say anymore. He started to feel sorry he didn’t have any attraction to Kain; maybe things would have been easier. Maybe if he had sex with Kain, during their pillow talk he would have learned tricks of the gay trade. Maybe he would have discovered that all gay guys had sex with each other to get the sexual frustration out of the way so that they could be better friends. That’s how he met his best friend from high school, anyway. He wasn’t sure anymore. He tried to lean on Candace again, but she had stood up while he was lost in thought, texting Kain more. Instead he pulled himself up onto the couch and laid down, holding himself until he felt okay enough to walk home again.

~~~~

“Louis, you’ll be paired with… Andre.” Louis looked across the room to see Andre on his phone, his hand halfheartedly raised. He was on Grindr looking for a hookup, unsure of how to lead anyone to a better future, but he figured he couldn’t do a worse job than the year before him.