Exposing Private Racism

As someone of the non-Caucasian persuasion, I'm very aware that racism is still alive: from the outright Confederate flags to the lowkey micro-gressions that happen every day. However, as a person of color, you can't stumble through life assuming every white person harbors ill will against you. Occasionally a few will slip up on Facebook or Twitter, but people are clever enough to wear metaphorical hoods these days.

I originally that about this while watching Aziz Ansari's new Netflix original Master of None over the weekend. It's a little rough around the edges, but overall it's a great show with outstanding content with topics ranging from dating to a woman's everyday struggles. In the episode* "Indians on TV," Aziz' character Dev doesn't want to portray Indian stereotypes for acting roles. Soon he gets a shot for a buddy sitcom, but the network execs exchange emails expressing how they don't think the show can succeed with two Indian actors and want to see which one can "curry their favor." The email chain is mistakenly sent to Dev, who then confronts the exec who wrote the "curry" line only to be treated out to a wonderful night out in the hopes that Dev will keep quiet. His conscious eventually catches up to him and he leaks the email that results in the exec's termination from the studio.

So I found much humor this past Monday when Tim Wolfe, [former] president of the University of Missouri, resigned after student protests spurred by his indifference toward racial tensions and threats. However just two days later, the campus faced death threats against its black students. I also read today that students at Howard University in DC are facing the same threats. It would seem that the resignation did the opposite of healing, but instead inspired radical racists to expose themselves.

So, what can we do? Well, for one, everyone on any college or work campus facing such threats, stay safe. But we have to keep this racial discourse going. We cannot stop talking about racism and other issues facing our society. Silence just allows the hatred to lie in waiting, quietly poisoning our society. As dangerous as it may become, we have to remain vocal in hopes that we'll educate the masses and expose racist behavior until its eradicated. Keep the protest going, my dear friends and associates. May we all truly be equal some day.

Word.



*Anytime someone starts a sentence with "In the episode,"  you should be fully aware of the spoilers ahead. However, I do apologize if you've feel I've ruined the episode for you. Watch it for the jokes anyway.

**This post was originally intended for Wednesday, but after hearing the story develop, I needed time to process the information. Thank you for bearing with me.

Fuckboi-ism & Fall of the Pumpkin Spice Fairy

And now, two impromptu poems:

Fuckboi-ism

You shack up in a committed relationship
or stay single long enough to become a fuckboi

You think it can't happen to you
you have morals but morals are shit
when it comes to carnal desires
Logic goes out the window

Drink that bottle of whiskey
Wallow in self-pity
Lie to yourself
Message that person that likes you
for a reasons you can't begin to fathom

Use them
Neglect them
Discourage them
Wait two months
Draw them back in
Repeat

Before you realize what've you become
it's too late
It's been three years
It's habit

You are fuckboi
Fuckboi are you
Never to be trusted again
until you put on that sheep's clothing

~~~

Fall of the Pumpkin Spice Fairy


Every September 22nd
after weeks of anticipation
the Pumpkin Spice Fairy awakes from her slumber
to grace lattes and baked goods with her presence
She scoots around on the Great Pumpkin
leaving nutmeg trails in her wake
She dons custom orange cardigans
inspiring fashion designers' creations
She hums Danny Elfman scores
while watching foliage land on the lake
She dines with Oprah
for the October Favorite Things luncheon

But this November 1st,
her nationwide tour of the States
was snipped by a cold breeze
scented by peppermint from the North
Jacqueline Frost appeared early
to answer the cries of those
yearning for Christmas
The fairy pleaded for one more month
to at least make it to Thanksgiving
but Ms Frost turned a deaf ear and cold shoulder
pushing the Pumpkin Spice Fairy back
until you knocked her head against a tree
banished until next year's Autumn.



Word

The Benefits of Onesies

The last few years, onesies have been coming back into popular culture. Or maybe I just think so because I spend too much time on the internet. Anyway, here's a listicle.

1) Nostalgia
Listen, we're all millenials here. Trust me, I hate that term, too. But 90s kids just doesn't accurately describe people between 18 and 34. [I feel generations are more of a seven year stretch, but that's an argument for another time.] Fact is, many of us in that age bracket are reminiscent as all hell. We love to fetishize our favorite 80s and 90s TV shows and movies. Some of the terrible fashion of those times have returned because we wanted them to. So why not welcome onesies back into your heart? Feel their warm embrace and be transported back to the days of being seven, watching Saturday morning cartoons, and eating cereal.

2) Cold Weather
You know what's better than getting under the covers during the winter? Wearing a damn blanket during the winter. Onesies are warm, warmer than some sweaters - because it's all one piece. Zip it up and all that fine body heat stays trapped inside. Besides, you know what's cold when you first hop in it? Your bed. You know what's not? That onesie hanging in your closet. Now put it on and hop around like a bunny.

3) Cuffing Season
With cold weather comes cuffing season. If you're unaware, cuffing season comes about every Autumn/Winter. Having spent the summer being free and promiscuous, plenty of single people find themselves wanting a companion to share the winter with so they don't have to face the harsh conditions of the winter. Well, sometimes you fail at finding someone to cuff; so why not get yourself a companion you can step into like a Tauntaun and listen to this fine playlist I curated. Onesies: they'll always be there to cradle you into the night.

4) Outside's Overrated
As previously explained, no one wants to go outside during the winter. Stay inside with your onesie. You can wear it with clothes or go commando. Who cares, because technically you're still wearing something. And you know what, if you really want to, you can go outside in an onesie. Check your mail. Go to the corner store. Sit down and write a memoir at your local coffee shop. If you get a dark colored onesie and throw a jacket over it, no one will be the wiser. Trust me, a former roommate knows from experience.

5) Parties/Costumes
Onesie. One piece. One item. That's all your costume will consist of. Easy to put on; easy to keep track off. And it's always machine washable if you get a stain. If enough of your posse has them, you can throw annual parties where you daydrink and stay warm. Doesn't that sound like the best thing ever? I know, because it is.

6) F*** Snuggies
Self-explanatory.

7) Stylish
You think onesies just come in cute animals and cartoon characters? Wrong. They come in cute patterns, too. That means you can look cool around the lodge when you take that skiing trip I won't be accompanying you on.

8) Affordable
You can go to Amazon right now and find adult onesies ranging between $15 and $45. Some of you pay $37.26 for a sweater. This is a whole outfit. Some of them even have feet! Hoods! Pockets! BUTTFLAPS! You don't even have to disrobe. You're paying 30 bucks for the warmest poop of your life. You just can't beat that.

I hope I've convinced you all to purchase onesies so that I can wear my rotation all winter without fear of ridicule. Stay toasty, my dear friends and associates.

Word.

Kim Kelly is My Friend

By the time we reach our mid-20s, we've realized that outside of work we don't have to be around people we don't like. Why not spend it simply around those we deem worth of wasting days away with? But sometimes our close friends have others they deem worth and try to integrate them into the group. And sometimes these people are just the worst.

You find yourself wondering how you share a mutual friend with this horrible person. Maybe you need to cut off your friend so you don't have to hang around their friend. No, that would be dick-ish. So you attempt to see what your friend sees in them, but all you realize is that they're as swallow, selfish, overly-opinionated, unconsciously racist/misogynistic, and heavy-footed as you thought they were. They even borrowed your roommate's favorite shirt without asking and stretched it out. Not to mention they're the worst kind of drunk: loud.

If I'm being honest with you, I just described a combination of horrible people I've had run-ins with. More recently, I've garnered the drunk confidence to tell one to their face all the ways they piss people [read: me] off. I felt like a champion of the people: I rid the evil cursing the land by making the beast cry and run to the bathroom. In hindsight, I was terrible for that, but it felt so good in that moment.

Oddly enough, that did not repel them from our friend group. It actually made them come around more often, and for a while I couldn't figure out why.

Then I remembered one of the best cancelled yet cult classic TV shows of our time: Freaks and Geeks. It's on Netflix if you've never seen it. [Not a sponsored blog... yet.] In the show, one of the protagonist Lindsay joins the "Freaks" of the school. In this group of Freaks is a girl named Kim Kelly, girlfriend to the boy Lindsay kind of has a crush on. Obviously they don't get along, but the animosity is mostly from Kim's side.

About halfway through the season, Kim begins to cling to Lindsay, much to Lindsay's bewilderment. Soon she finds that Kim Kelly's home life is nothing like her own. She basically lives in a shack compared to Lindsay's house. Kim's mother yells at her daughter and tells her she's nothing. Relatives are passed out (presumably drunk) on furniture. Eventually, Lindsay realizes how one's environment can shape a person to act crass, rude, and like everyone's out to get them. The girls' friendship blossoms from that point.

It reminded me that everyone has their backstory, some darker than others. Soon I learned the loud drunk's past struggles and hardship. We bonded over similarities I was unaware we shared. I grew to understand and like this character. My blind rage was replaced with compassion.

This is not to say they don't annoy me anymore; they still have their moments. I tease them any opportunity I get to balance it out. It's my way of making them pay for their past transgressions. They're about caught up.

It is at this moment that I am proud to announce that.... Taylor Swift is my friend. I know, I know. I've been #teamKanye for years. But she's proven herself to not be all bad. I mean, we have the same taste in TV shows so that helps. (Except Doctor Who. Who has the time, am I right? Oh, you do? Well, never mind...) This doesn't mean I listen to her songs, though. Her taste in music is still trash, but we've found ways to overcome this.

So open your hearts, my dear friends and associates, to that person you can't stand. There's a reason they're so crazy. Perhaps you'll become close friends. Or not. Sometimes people are a little too messed up. Know when to back away. Stay sane.

Word.

Repurposing Failed Work

It's no secret I've been missing in action from the creative writing world besides the few periodical moments my blog came back to life. I want to thank you all for baring with me these past few years. Sometimes your confidence just takes an unexpected hit, and it takes longer to bounce back than you could have ever expected. But after a while you find a way to reproach situations in your life.

During this time in my creative life I shall henceforth refer to as the Dark Ages, I saw a number of my peers furthering their careers and brands, both professionally and recreationally. While they inspired me, it also depressed me that I couldn't find the same self-starting initiative they had. I felt broken with no cheap mechanic to tune me up, because we all know psychologists cost an arm, leg, and a brain. Am I right? You've never seen one? Well, moving back to what a sad sack I was.

It wasn't until I noticed an old friend asking for writers to produce articles for his website that I felt I could successfully hop back into the double-dutch game. In all honestly, my Best Albums of the Year posts that have graced this page were mostly attempts at getting his staff's attention. (I also like bragging about my taste in music, so it really wasn't a stretch for me.) Even digitally, I can still be a bit too shy to say what I want. Given some of my past posts, I'm sure that's surprising.

When I reached out to him, he seemed excited to have me on board. All I had to do was prove I was actually committed and write a review or opinion piece. Figuring any nobody could write a review [see: Yelp, Facebook, my Twitter feed], I decided to voice my opinion on a matter I felt of the utmost importance: that the Guardians of the Galaxy soundtrack paled in comparison to those of Running With Scissors and Watchmen. That's right. I wanted to start off my opinion piece career with an unpopular opinion. So daring. Much opinion. OPINION!*

Let me spoil the end of this story for you: my piece never saw the light of day. I never even bothered to tell my friend that I didn't have anything for him because I, in fact, am the worst. But it's not as if I didn't try to write something. I got three paragraphs deep before I realized I was writing garbage. My argument was a year late and weak, so weak I even started to doubt it. I hid under my desk because it was bombing. Ok, it wasn't that bad, but it felt like it. I still wouldn't say I love the GotG soundtrack, but I can see the mass appeal it has.

That was seven months ago. It wasn't until last month that I was able to pull myself together and realized I could have written an entirely different piece on the relation between soundtracks and their movies and how they strengthen each other.

What I'm saying is, don't be me. Don't give up, especially on yourself. If you fail at something, try it from a different angle because you probably approached it wrong the first time. Turn those flops into hits. Sometimes you're more clever than you think.

Does this mean I'm going to rewrite that article? Maybe in the future, but I wouldn't hold my breath. I'll be too busy turning this ghost ship back into the Titanic. ...meaning, it'll probably die once it gets too cold out. Or maybe it won't! I'm trying to rebrand myself. Which is why you may have noticed this isn't in the typical Wacko Monologues stanza format you've grown to accept. I want to try something new and long form this time around, because change can be good, right?

As of now, I'll be posting three times a week: Mondays, Tuesdays/Wednesdays, and Thursdays. I figured having the Tuesday/Wednesday flex spot could be useful for when I anticipate Humpday being too much for you all [aka when Tuesday is too much for me]. I hope you're all excited to have me back. Because without your applause I just fade away. ...and that's my court mandated gay joke for the week. Til my next post, my dear friends and associates.

Word.


*Occasionally I have to call myself out for using the same word too many time and being too lazy to synonym it up. I like to think it adds to the humor of my writing if I'm self-aware.

Montreal Week: Global Guts - Women's World Cup

Yeah okay, the U.S. Women's team won the World Cup yesterday.
Big whoop, you care (finally). So what?
I'm here to talk about meeeeeeee!

Welcome back to my blog.
You missed me, I missed me,
apparently I'm a narcissist now,
growing up is weird. I know.

This week of blogging is brought to you
by my week in Montreal, Quebec with 13 other people.
Squad happened to be the theme of the trip.

~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not the biggest sports fan.
My dad bought me a basketball hoop when I was younger
and all the kids on the block used it more times
than I ran along my friends as they rode bikes.
But as a 20-something year old fellow,
I've learned to appreciate sports of all kinds
as long as I have a friend who's deeply invested.

The past three years of my life
I've lived with an avid soccer fan.
So avid, any free time he gets
from teaching, grading, and lesson planning
he spends watching a match of futbol.
So avid, he even watches the female division of the sport.

Let me stop you right there.
I know by typing this I subject myself to criticism,
but I am not sexist.
Even as a gay man, I love women.
Feminist, this guy right here.
However, it's no secret
that many a sport enthusiast
skips becoming invested in women's teams
because "they aren't as athletic" as men.
Obviously, that's bullshit.
If no other sport proves this
it's women's soccer.

As you've probably gather from my intro
[or from the hundred of pictures I posted to Facebook today]
I went to Montreal to sightsee.
A few of my friends wanted to watch the Women's World Cup
and I figured that'd be a decent sight to see, too.
What a spectacle it was.

Once I see a sport live,
I have a deeper respect and appreciation for it.
It happened for basketball.
It happened for football.
It didn't happen for baseball.
But it definitely happened for soccer.

In truth, I was fortunate to have my first live match
be the Quarter-final match between Germany and France.
There was so much defense; there was so much offense.
Like the score was only 1-1 at the end of 90 minutes,
but it felt like I was watching the best realistic rendition of Shaolin Soccer.
The 30 minutes of extra time was electrifying.
The Penalty Kicks were a nail biter
as both teams continued to score.
But all great games must come to an end.
Germany won off PKs 5-4.

I feel it important to mention that me and my friends
placed small wagers on the outcome of the game.
I was also drunk off a $10(Canadian) 1L box of 13.5% wine.
That might have had something to do with how into the game I was.
But if you ask me, those sound like the right circumstances
to fall in love with a new sport.

I'll have to admit, though,
the semi-final match between Germany and USA
was slightly less charged for me
despite the stadium finally being near sold out
and two lone German supporters shouting
at the top of their lungs in our section.
Although, that may because my mind was
occupied with something else,
but that's for Wednesday's post.

My friends will tell you the US have played
like shit this season and we're just lucky all season,
but ey, if luck wins you games 2-0 against Deutschland
you might as ride it on out while it lasts.

Hearing a stadium full of Americans, Canadians, and Europeans  cheer and chant U.S.A. after that win was surreal.
It made me realize how obnoxious Americans can be, but you'd be obnoxious too if you just made it to the Finals.
A win like that bought black americans and white ladies to dance together.

Unfortunately, we weren't able to trek to Vancouver,
but half our crew gathered once again in Baltimore
to watch our girls spank the Japanese.
Chants of Solo and Lloyd filled the room.
I mean... Lloyd score 3 goals in a single game,
one of those from midfield.
How can you shit on that kind of athleticism?

I'll say it once and I'll say it again:
women are amazing.
Word.

I'm Afraid To Leave My House

I am afraid to leave my house.

Unless it is for necessity or to drink and forget my woes,

there are seldom times you will see me out and about.

The short story: I'm afraid for my life.

Before the death of Trayvon Martin,

I was very aware that police were prejudice.

I heard the tale of Rodney King.

I heard the whispers of Emmett Till.

I had never seen police brutality as a child, but I was as cautious of it as gang violence.

As a child, even though my father allowed me freedom and let me play with friends outside, my mother didn't trust our neighborhood and sheltered me.

[I should mention they were divorced to avoid confusion.]

Eventually she tried to get me to explore,

but she had spooked me enough without realizing it. 

Or at least she realized it too late.

I don't know how,

but by the time I reached high school 

I knew to separate myself from what I considered "niggerdom."

You don't have an exact idea for it either, 

but everyone reading this knows exactly what I mean. 

That's how ingrained racism is in our society.

Even though I still associated with all races in college,

I think I yearned to belong amongst my white classmates.

I knew better than to Uncle Tom it,

yet I felt safer around them.

I thought - perhaps I still do think -

if I'm around white people I can blend in.

I can secretly retain my black identity

but act like and interact with "them."

Then I'll be accepted.

Then I won't be targeted.

I've known for too long being black in "America" was dangerous.

For the past two years, 

it seems like the number of black lives taken by cops has tripled.

Or perhaps the number was always this grim

and the light is finally being shed upon it.

However, the light being shed became over-saturation.

It's kind of like late at night you see the commercials 

to feed starving children in Africa or battered animals. 

You're aware of the tragedy, but because you keep seeing it, 

you just accept it as "what can I do?" 

even though the number is right in front of you.

[As an aside, if you feel the urge to help the animals 

more than other human beings... Yeah, I judge you. 

I understand your reasoning, but I still judge you.]

Over-saturation aside, the reality is still very real.

Black people are dying unnecessarily.

Police are responding radically to non-life threatening events.

I have been afraid of this for far too long.

Receiving the news that Freddie Gray was murdered in Baltimore,

a city I have learned to call home, does not help ease me.

The past week, I have refused to look into the case.

Lightning had struck to close to me, and I refused to look at the damage.

It was only after the protest that turned riot two days ago that I decided to look into it.

And by the way, from the mouths of my friends who were there:

the rioters were not the protesters; yes, two group of people they look the same

can exist in the same area. How bizarre is that?

But when I found out about the spinal injuries.

When I learned that he was born the same year as me.

It doesn't make me not want to leave my house any less.

My name is Charles G Clark.

I am a writer fortunate enough to make a living of freelance writing.

But I am scared shitless to walk out my door at any given moment

because I am a black man living in a dystopian world.

I hear there's another protest this coming weekend in Baltimore.

Who knows, if I can put my own issues aside, I'll go.

And if I do, I hope to see as many of you as possible

for a peaceful protest that can influence change.

Please.

Word.