It's pretty endearing in a serious black man, that he also can get excited about lame things. The difference -- I'd say-- is that his background will prevent him from building his life around it. The proof is-- didn't he know it was funny thing to love the Container Store?
One of the things that delighted me about VSB was the time head writer Damon Young was talking about the new house he'd bought, and in particular how completely nuts he went when he discovered The Container Store. Prior to that he'd assumed it was just a joke about lame (presumably white) people, but nope, there is indeed such a place, and it is a magical realm with storage solutions for all his needs! And this is what I mean about how racism is both more complex and yet simpler: I sure as heck wouldn't expect a black man who writes so insightfully about the disparities in society to become enraptured by the thought of high-quality boxes for each of his pairs of shoes, and yet there it was right in front of me.
Yes, and of course, the all-important do-any-black-people-want-to-hang-out-with-you-or-me? question. We moved from affluent town, NJ to affluent town, CA and my children were unhappy for a long time. It was 6th grade. One of them said to me, "There aren't even any black people here!." I asked him what he missed and-- he just didn't like it-- these kids were so excited about lame things. They never lost that feeling about the town.
Those are all songs I love, and I can't guarantee that any of it will speak to you -- everyone's got different tastes -- but I offer them as songs that bring me joy and I hope they will for you too.
If their motives are good, then by all means! I hang out a lot at VSB (Very Smart Brothas, verysmartbrothas.theroot.com), in equal parts because it's full of great interesting people, and in part because it behooves me to talk with more people of color (and more importantly, listen to people of color). It's one of those things where I keep learning that racial issues are both more complex and simpler than I had previously understood. More complex in that there are all sorts of subtle gradations and situational forms of racism that aren't always obvious; simpler in that it always keeps coming back to the same basic considerations (assume that people of color are every bit as unique and varied as white people, try not to be an asshole, and do your best to make their causes your own).
When I moved into the neighborhood over forty years ago, into the place I continue to rent, many of the homes were owner-occupied, and White, White, and White. Now most of the properties are rentals, and many have become Black, Black, and Black. I make a point of introducing myself to people I don't know, and chat with them briefly. The kids apparently have been told to call me either "Sir" or "Mister Shartiblartfat." I feel comfortable and safe outside in my 'hood day or night.
Thank you for that, it is, indeed, a pisser.I won't go to the old neighborhood anymore, not even in google earth. It would break my heart to see yet more of the trees gone that were once among my closest friends.
It's entirely possible that the world changed for other people like it did for me, but I'm not party to the worlds inside their heads, just mine. But even then, there's the further problem that I'm not actually dealing with "them" so much as the representation of them in my head, and that too is now changed. And of course, all the little nuances that you can't possibly communicate to others even if you try: I was sad to see that the 75 bus route had changed, and what's more, I couldn't even fully trace the path the bus used to take back in the late 80s when I rode it almost daily.
Cats dying is a pisser, and my condolences on your cat and dog in kind.
If I understand you, you refer to the feeling that everything changed and no one else noticed even if it changed for them, too, because that's there bubble (or glass bead in the net, if you are into that particular koan). My condolences on the loss of your friend. Everything has been different for me, as well, since I lost My cat. We have other cats and they need attention, too, but it will never be back to the way it was. A similar thing happened when we lost Our dog, but I had already taken the emotional hit for the cat so it wasn't as big of a jolt, if you see what I mean.
Not quote like that. Just trying to describe the feeling when there's a part of the world associated with a time in your past, and you go back there but it's not the same. You can walk the same streets and see 80% the same buildings, but it doesn't feel like the same place at all.
A lot of this, to be honest, has to do with a beloved cat who died six months ago. I don't think I've been able to process it, not fully anyway, and it makes where I am now feel a little unreal. So perhaps it's not the world that has turned into something different, but I have.
I don't worry about psychiatrists and people with firearms; that's not what this is about. Though sometimes the advance guard of the Zildar invasion fleet are armed but that's a whole 'nother matter.
It's pretty endearing in a serious black man, that he also can get excited about lame things. The difference -- I'd say-- is that his background will prevent him from building his life around it. The proof is-- didn't he know it was funny thing to love the Container Store?
Well I guess people of all races can get excited about lame things.
One of the things that delighted me about VSB was the time head writer Damon Young was talking about the new house he'd bought, and in particular how completely nuts he went when he discovered The Container Store. Prior to that he'd assumed it was just a joke about lame (presumably white) people, but nope, there is indeed such a place, and it is a magical realm with storage solutions for all his needs! And this is what I mean about how racism is both more complex and yet simpler: I sure as heck wouldn't expect a black man who writes so insightfully about the disparities in society to become enraptured by the thought of high-quality boxes for each of his pairs of shoes, and yet there it was right in front of me.
Yes, and of course, the all-important do-any-black-people-want-to-hang-out-with-you-or-me? question. We moved from affluent town, NJ to affluent town, CA and my children were unhappy for a long time. It was 6th grade. One of them said to me, "There aren't even any black people here!." I asked him what he missed and-- he just didn't like it-- these kids were so excited about lame things. They never lost that feeling about the town.
They probably meant a black or brown person lives there, so obviously it must be a drug house.
Those are all songs I love, and I can't guarantee that any of it will speak to you -- everyone's got different tastes -- but I offer them as songs that bring me joy and I hope they will for you too.
If their motives are good, then by all means! I hang out a lot at VSB (Very Smart Brothas, verysmartbrothas.theroot.com), in equal parts because it's full of great interesting people, and in part because it behooves me to talk with more people of color (and more importantly, listen to people of color). It's one of those things where I keep learning that racial issues are both more complex and simpler than I had previously understood. More complex in that there are all sorts of subtle gradations and situational forms of racism that aren't always obvious; simpler in that it always keeps coming back to the same basic considerations (assume that people of color are every bit as unique and varied as white people, try not to be an asshole, and do your best to make their causes your own).
She's the most healthy looking drug user I've ever seen.
Good question.
When I moved into the neighborhood over forty years ago, into the place I continue to rent, many of the homes were owner-occupied, and White, White, and White. Now most of the properties are rentals, and many have become Black, Black, and Black. I make a point of introducing myself to people I don't know, and chat with them briefly. The kids apparently have been told to call me either "Sir" or "Mister Shartiblartfat." I feel comfortable and safe outside in my 'hood day or night.
Thank you for that, it is, indeed, a pisser.I won't go to the old neighborhood anymore, not even in google earth. It would break my heart to see yet more of the trees gone that were once among my closest friends.
It's entirely possible that the world changed for other people like it did for me, but I'm not party to the worlds inside their heads, just mine. But even then, there's the further problem that I'm not actually dealing with "them" so much as the representation of them in my head, and that too is now changed. And of course, all the little nuances that you can't possibly communicate to others even if you try: I was sad to see that the 75 bus route had changed, and what's more, I couldn't even fully trace the path the bus used to take back in the late 80s when I rode it almost daily.
Cats dying is a pisser, and my condolences on your cat and dog in kind.
If I understand you, you refer to the feeling that everything changed and no one else noticed even if it changed for them, too, because that's there bubble (or glass bead in the net, if you are into that particular koan). My condolences on the loss of your friend. Everything has been different for me, as well, since I lost My cat. We have other cats and they need attention, too, but it will never be back to the way it was. A similar thing happened when we lost Our dog, but I had already taken the emotional hit for the cat so it wasn't as big of a jolt, if you see what I mean.
So, has this "local drug house" ever been busted? You know, for drugs??
Not quote like that. Just trying to describe the feeling when there's a part of the world associated with a time in your past, and you go back there but it's not the same. You can walk the same streets and see 80% the same buildings, but it doesn't feel like the same place at all.
A lot of this, to be honest, has to do with a beloved cat who died six months ago. I don't think I've been able to process it, not fully anyway, and it makes where I am now feel a little unreal. So perhaps it's not the world that has turned into something different, but I have.
I don't worry about psychiatrists and people with firearms; that's not what this is about. Though sometimes the advance guard of the Zildar invasion fleet are armed but that's a whole 'nother matter.
But the cool thing about them here in Dixie is that the "Kingdom Hall" is integrated, and the door-to-door teams are, as well.