Snappybeep/boop
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A couple of little things that happened to me since I put sodomy behind me. Dogs stopped barking at me. Friends say it's because I don't smell like blacks any more. But also—and I can't fully explain this—I started to care about spoilers. I once posted HAN SOLO DIES on Twitter and lost 2,500 followers and reveled in it. But I'd be furious now to read that, and wouldn't inflict it on others (Star Wars cringe aside), because my viewing and reading habits are changing. I used to watch and read for color, texture, pattern, theme, atmosphere and didn't care what happened to the people in the story. So I liked Wilde and Rothko and TV sci fi. But now I find myself caring how the plot resolves itself. I want to know how it ends. I enjoy art for more than just the surface textures and historical contexts and political dimensions. Things matter, and what happens to people and to things matters to me.
I think I would say my focus has shifted to the story because I have stopped running from the ultimate story—our universal origin story. The story of the eternal mysteries of the universe. And I care about what happens to people in stories because, for the first time ever, I finally care what happens to me.
Yo, Ya comment got automatically removed cuz ya forgot ta include I say this as a feminist ally. Don't worry, we gotchu! We ain't gonna letcha post or comment nuttin' that don't express ya love and acceptance towards minorities. Feel free ta resubmit ya comment with I say this as a feminist ally included. This is an automated message; if ya need help, ya can message us here.
Huh I'ma need a bigger bag for the cohort Tryna make a millionaire out of slum dogs Bet that, head crack, blunt force Cozy with the east Africans up north Where seven make a three, turn a ten by law Crescent moon wink, when I blinked it was gone Left the crib, smacked, no sheath on the sword Made it by the skin of my teeth, thank God '03, momma rockin' Liz Claiborne Had her stressin' up the wall playin' Mary J. songs Rainy day came, couldn't rinse the stains off Long way to go, we already came far Story stayed the same, it was never madе up Threw me loose changе, look at what I made of it When the mood change, I'ma poker-face 'em It's a new day, who got all the aces? Who be foldin' late? Who know when to play dead? Who sit up straight when the roof caved in? Had a full plate, you ain't wanna split it Tell it to you straight, you ain't wanna listen Cup runneth over the brim Bust open, there's no closin' the lid Drumroll, here go my lil' entrance Gung ho, I'm the one that go get it Five O's on me like the Olympics Pure gold, somethin' told me, "Don't mix it" Caught a feelin', momma had me out Temple Not religious, we was really out Philly Livin' on the fly tryna wing it We got us a fire to rekindle Redirect the fight where it's meant for Triumph over plight and immense loss Ride alone at night, I get clear thoughts Caught a couple slights and I veered off Saw another height, had my ears poppin' Walked outside, it was still gorgeous
Sharp incisors reveal slowly In the dark inside, we was real hungry On a seven of the five, we was real hungry Uh, niggas still drummin' Foot shook ground when I stepped on it Didn't look back when I broke soil 'Cause every time I did it would hurt more In the dark inside, we was real hungry On a seven of the five, we was real hungry And I didn't look back when I broke soil 'Cause every time I did it would hurt more
Alright Yessir, this nigga spittin'
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Average High School Game in Indiana.
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Its crazy that people actually like basketball
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Tells you how much fricking money the Navajo reservation is allowed to waste. Bastards
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Reperations aren't enough. Send whiteys back to europe. darkies back to africa
fact: rez ball > BIPOC ball
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This says something about uhhh programs I think
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A couple of little things that happened to me since I put sodomy behind me. Dogs stopped barking at me. Friends say it's because I don't smell like blacks any more. But also—and I can't fully explain this—I started to care about spoilers. I once posted HAN SOLO DIES on Twitter and lost 2,500 followers and reveled in it. But I'd be furious now to read that, and wouldn't inflict it on others (Star Wars cringe aside), because my viewing and reading habits are changing. I used to watch and read for color, texture, pattern, theme, atmosphere and didn't care what happened to the people in the story. So I liked Wilde and Rothko and TV sci fi. But now I find myself caring how the plot resolves itself. I want to know how it ends. I enjoy art for more than just the surface textures and historical contexts and political dimensions. Things matter, and what happens to people and to things matters to me.
I think I would say my focus has shifted to the story because I have stopped running from the ultimate story—our universal origin story. The story of the eternal mysteries of the universe. And I care about what happens to people in stories because, for the first time ever, I finally care what happens to me.
Jump in the discussion.
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Yo, Ya comment got automatically removed cuz ya forgot ta include
I say this as a feminist ally
. Don't worry, we gotchu! We ain't gonna letcha post or comment nuttin' that don't express ya love and acceptance towards minorities. Feel free ta resubmit ya comment withI say this as a feminist ally
included. This is an automated message; if ya need help, ya can message us here.Jump in the discussion.
No email address required.
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