explore-blog
It was a bit like being caught in a mostly benign avalanche. You are totally daunted, of course, when you think of previous writers who received the prize. And daunted when you think of the ones who didn’t receive it. Just confining yourself to Ireland you have Yeats, Shaw and Beckett in the first group and James Joyce in the second. So you soon realize you’d better not think too much about it at all. Nothing can prepare you for it. Zeus thunders and the world blinks twice and you get to your feet again and try to keep going.
In this 1997 interview, Seamus Heaney (April 13, 1939–August 30, 2013) reflects on what it’s like to win the Nobel Prize. Pair with timeless wisdom from his Nobel acceptance speech. (via explore-blog)

Okay!

So this site apparently hit 500 followers while daddy was on a long vacation from this attention-destroyer of a webspace. Thanks for following, people old and new! (I’m convinced many of you found me through my Twitter account.)

I promise to update this joint soon. At the very least I’ll post some things queued up in my massive Likes inventory. I’ve been visiting Tumblr sporadically, actually, though I haven’t been too motivated to share… the Web began to seem less important to me, minding my greater development as a human being. Hint, hint.

If anyone’s curious about what I’ve been doing, a short response is:

living in Bloomington, IN during summer for the first time, which is endlessly magical; going through whatever kind of enlightenment process (I don’t mean this as some kind of punchline; cultivating the chakras, especially the crown, is no small feat!); becoming a far kinder and wiser person, a community-builder, a local citizen, and a way better  poet; and ultimately evolving into the strong Black man I’ve always needed to be.

And all that’s been great! I’m very complete and happy these days :)

I’ll post about some new projects of mine in the coming weeks. Since my third year of college began today, I’m going to not dangle around in these places unnecessarily. But technology’s only gotten easier for me to use (hail the magic of self-discipline!), so I won’t be completely absent, either.

I hope this deathless text finds you readers healthy and well. More to come.

Shalom, y’all.

Essay: Bad Brains in April

Sitting around hating myself for how obnoxious and insensitive I can be.

Christ. I’m too self-conscious some days. Like I’m made of worry. Sophia tells me not to fret about all the things for which I criticize myself but I feel like that ignores the issues in my personality. I’m glad to be aware of what flaws I have and to generally know, immediately, that I’ve done something moronic, but how many people I care for will I offend still? I’m always asking myself if I’ve missed any examples.

Before I was 10 I’d vowed to kill my stepfather one day. Always a murderous urge in his presence. This is quite true. I’m no longer interested in that sort of violence but it’s crippling to feel that I’m anything like what he was (he’s changed) (I find myself advising his self-transformation?) - insensitive, self-centered, loud, a nuisance in general. Obnoxious and overwhelming. Neglectful and he would just take, take, take, take, take, take, take, take, and take, and take, and take. Some wonderful people support me but it’s hard to tell how much tolerance of my shit is behind it. Am I selfish? Still vain? I like to think not, but it’s hard to know. Must be one or the other. Both?

Hell if I know how many apologies I owe. Yes, it’s fine to be a dickhead every once in awhile but when you’ve got a head like mine every breath you take gets attacked with thought - at least in times I’m reminded of how coarse I can be. Tonight my fissured brain won’t stop harassing itself.

"Patience."

Patience…

Patience. Breathe… breathe…

It’s so hard to respect others when you barely respect yourself, you know? Brimming light they say I am, and I like to think so, only I’m made of neurosis sometimes and can’t think beyond all my embarrassments - how overwhelming my presence can be. “Let me appropriate your person somehow.” “Your attention, please!” No warning. Things I’ve said that create a distance. I hate bad distance. Distance and vanity, and ignorance are all curses I’ve been knifing in the dark for years on end.

And holy hell, how I can drive someone away with my ignorance! One wounded smile to you tomorrow in apology, woman - I don’t have the wherewithal to apologize yet - maybe soon, but I’m liable to forget. Or get to you horribly late.

And you, who I admire, let us ignore that likely bogus self-projection I floundered in performing for you. I know I’m far too eager; yes, yes, yes. You don’t have to tell me, and you don’t. It’s in the corner of your eyes I think. I’m just nervous. Maybe you’re reacting to my bad habit of staring? Why don’t you say anything?

But as I well know I’m too hard on myself. I expect entirely too much too soon. 19 years? Grow up quicker. You’re a crass little child, not a man. What are you doing with your time? There’s not enough time. You’re a shit-head now, in this moment. Why?

But perhaps Sophia’s right. As usual. I hope she is at least, and I think she is. At least she loves me. She’s more forgiveness and patience and heart than anything. She’s also been gone all weekend and I’ve missed her healing. I tell her all that’s happened to me and what I’m trying to do and how hard and she tells me I’m so brave, and I guess that’s true; my brain’s not on my side sometimes and that’s a dark situation to be in.

Man I’m just glad
winter’s done with.

— And I wonder what this’ll look like tomorrow, some time when I’m joyful again.