Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81488 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Just look around you. Look at the crap we do to one another. We won’t even own up to a mistake or apologize for a wrongdoing. The truth is now seen as a lie. A lie is somethin’ to protect. Protection is now perceived as selective: only certain children, women and so on, receive our fortification, and it’s for the days that we feel like being real men and stepping up to the plate. The plate can stay empty for the hungry and poor, ’cause we told them to pull their lazy, dirty, worthless asses up by the bootstraps. We tell bootless and shoeless children to not be violent, but at the same time, hit them with a leather strap, and dare them to cry. I ain’t in the business of telling folks how to raise their kids. I’m just pointing out the hypocrisy of how we raise our families, is all.
Tell them, ‘spare the rod, spoil the child,’ and try to explain that it was for their own good that they were beaten. All that does is instill fear and resentment. On top of that is the psychological abuse. The mistreatment. The good die young, and the young are revered, while the old are humiliated and neglected. Told they are unattractive, soft in the head and useless. We ain’t got to say it—the way we do them says it all. The elderly are taxed to death, we give them scam calls, emails, chain letters with bible scriptures and nasty threats if they don’t mail it to thirty other folks. Remember those? Conditional love. They’re tossed into subpar retirement and nursing homes that take all of their money, but nobody will talk to them, help them to the restroom or give them the time of day to save their life… Our actions show all that needs to be said.
Steal. Kill. At Will. Laugh at others’ misfortune, post it online all for a thrill. We laugh at folks for committing crimes online, not caring about how it affects others and the example we’re setting for younger folk. Everything is a damn joke or no big deal until it happens to us. We’re selfish. We hate goodness and crave things that are degenerate and cruel. Sheep observe. We sit back and watch, all clustered together like clumps of cotton. Those of us that are black sheep perceive even more. We are alone, and we blend in with the pitch black of the night, when everyone else is asleep and not watching… only our eyes visible… and then, we close those eyes so no one can see us, but now, we can’t see nobody else, either…
And I ain’t no better.
I’ve killed men and enjoyed it. I’ve lied and didn’t care. I’ve stolen, and felt it was owed to me. I’ve fucked other men’s women, in their beds, with no regrets. I’ve cheated on ladies that I knew cared for me, and didn’t bat an eye. I’ve envied others, and been jealous, too. I’ve committed just about every single sin written in the Good Book. I’ve allowed greed at times in my life to control me. I know these things about me, and I now can move with purpose. Part of becoming a man is self-awareness. I think that’s what Grandpa hates most about me and my cousins. It seems we’re fully aware of what the fuck he is, and we’re able to see ourselves for what we are, too. We can see our light and our darkness, our deadly sins as kins…
See, when you know yourself, understand yourself completely, it’s harder to fool you. To pull the wool over your eyes. Ain’t no sense in trying to convince a jaguar that it’s a jaguar. It knows this as fact. When someone starts messing with the facts of this world and tellin’ you that those facts are lies, then it’s an uphill battle to know thyself. That’s what Grandpa does. He changes and warps and twists the truth. When people do this, it’s a labor of hatred to manipulate you. KNOW THYSELF. Magic is the same way. My father taught me and my brothers magic tricks, but he never lied and said that the magic was the truth, or that the truth was the magic.
Magic… A trick of the mind and eye. The real magic is the will to believe. Faith. The desire to buy into illusion. I knew myself so well, I secluded myself at times, for my own sanity. This blocked a lot of blessings I suppose. I’m not so certain if God was trying to bless or curse me when this mess with Grandpa erupted. I need to talk to you, Lord…
I’m in deep shit, Heavenly Father. I’m not so egotistical as to believe that you really look after me and all that I do, night and day. I’m not saying that you don’t know every thought in my head and every step I take. I just don’t believe you’re that invested. I think we as people go down some assembly line, and you toss us out into the world like baby birds from a nest. You know how I feel about certain big trees. The point is, I’m in the type of trouble that makes it feel like quicksand is a vacation of sorts, and as I look across my livin’ room observing my woman sittin’ in the middle of floor wearing little of nothin’, with clear containers of jewelry beads, shiny silver and gold string in front of her, and her EarPods jammed in her ears as I work on my computer—us pulling an all-nighter together like the power couple that we are—I realize that I do have more fears than I can fathom…