I Love You, Morris Brown

"Sometimes you gotta' move backward to go forward"

I wish I didn't remember that quote from a Lincoln car commercial but here we are in Decatur, Georgia. Me, you, and a shirtless Matthew McConaughey driving along some parkway listening to "Morris Brown" by Outkast.

I'm back in the south right now and I'm content yet flabbergasted. It was 2 weeks ago when I was pacing back and forth, irritated by own presence in a space. The Jons out of control, bacon was burnt like Michael Blackson, called sick out of work (ironic I actually had a bad case of diarrhea but intended on going to work anyways), and the rare instance of my palms being sweaty (mom's spaghetti).

I knew what was up; the same symptoms that came about in my exit from Norfolk. But here I was, trying to hold on to something that I loved but it was all lubed up, like a thing that excessively gets lubed up.

The Bundles of Jon could act out a 2-hour choreopoem, write a whole manuscript, conjure up a dissertation with works cited on why it was time to end my lease, job, and tenure from Colorado. I personally couldn't explain it using crayons and speaking perfect English in a one-on-one therapy session. I do think Jon could put it in the intuition category or some sort of primordial feeling.

Same urge when I moved from Milledgeville, Georgia immediately after college; Norfolk, Virginia after my break-up; and Denver, Colorado after my hiatus from teaching. But hey, I loved Colorado; my doggies, brunches, yoga, running, all of that jazz.

I told people every reason for the sudden leave. Too expensive, lack of emotional support, lack of good paying jobs (main indicator), etc.

Quite honestly I was also sad for multiple reasons. For all of those reasons and more. It is unfortunate I wasted a lot of people's time but my friend and family support in Georgia is unmatched. It's too overwhelming and consistent for me. My expectations for people are exceedingly high because they set the bar at that level. Vehicles have transported me to dozens of states and my legs have ran thousands of miles, I have met some folks and stayed in some places. And where did that lead me?

Back here,

Reckon I am upset because I thought I could build something out of some Popsicle sticks and crazy glue in Denver. Maybe some sort of infrastructure was manifested during my stay in the Rockies but not how I planned after two years. There is also the impatient piece; could be me not being diligent with the process of attaining (best) friends, high paying side gigs, and inner/outer peace. Which is what it came down too. Who knows the Greater Metro area of Atlanta may give me the same result. But at least my auntie and momma out here.

Of course they money aspect; if I stayed here any longer the money would literally be evaporated. And the hiatus from teaching had overcame all of my emotions. The luster of Denver had worn off like every other place I had lived. And it was time to make a decision even though it could have came earlier with jobs and my lease being up in May. All of that stuff is not difficult to handle. My friend did ask how was it being homeless and unemployed, which I believed that to be a huge slap in the face to everyone I know. No one is going to let me end of being homeless and penniless in Georgia, that would only happen on my own accord.

But I am motivated, a little nauseated and dizzy, hopeful. I will get back into teaching, pay off this substantial credit card debt, teach yoga at a studio, find some freggin' zen, and continue to make dope dancing videos.  Definitely a bump in the road but I know some folks who work for GDOT. It is time to build here for a little while and I am ready. If not, then I only got three words...

Somebody Gotta’Love The Spiritual Immaculate Hoodrats

Oh yes, absolutely. Here comes Jonny with some rhymes about some mild insecurities, infatuation with fat booties, and night runs around the city.

Oh real quick, as I mentioned before, my love language includes but ain’t limited to double gin & tonics, Running 10ks, and cosplays. Cool let me start my ramble,

I’m probably here to talk about how people have gentrified cornbread or how much I miss my momma’s sweet, SWEET cocoa butter kisses on my left cheek,

I did slip on a banana peel like I was an extra in an infomercial, I’m sure every actor/actress is an extra on informercials. Grabbed every invisible ropes I couldn’t 

Find. No wonder no one rarely finishes rainbow road. 

Uh, I kissed a boy 👨‍❤️‍👨

Nah, I ain’t like it 🙅🏾‍♂️

Well, I still hate Jordan Howard and when my dad cries.

Still gotta’ fetish for the spiritual hoodrat immaculate ratchets, but only when they don’t receive child support 

And known to tell other people’s kids to stop acting up in Public settings 

But I have to remind you that I was the Last Black Superhero in Willacoochee & Arvada, 

I’m still dropping science whilst others drop English,

I heard the call and culled the heard, paid the piper, pied the payers, became the player, but Chance said players are quitters 

And the bat signal doesn’t show up when the sky is clear but I’m pretty sure Woburn and Flint’s water supply is still burning,

And the dog is dead, the girl is gone, the chicken is unseasoned, and I’m sitting off of 16th and Colfax with my brother. Wondering why he always has mayonnaise on his lips. 

If I say I don’t give a shit, I give 100% of the shits.

And if I ever told you I love you, 

And if I save a love you, I do. I do, I do-oooo-ooooo. 

If I say I don’t I love you, I don’t.

And I believe in you, and you, and you. But not you.

And I believe in Jonny.

I Believe in The Pop, The Lock, AND The Drop

Dirty Shawn Bradley’s, the cracked screen of a MP3 player, and my mom’s flimsy headphones. 

Stretch the thighs, hamstrings, shoulders, lower back, fingers, neck, biceps, triceps, and most importantly your spiritual animal.

Flip through Outkast, Dangerdoom, N.E.R.D., Yeezy, Pete Rock & C.L. Smooth, & start with Young H.O.V. to get started. Wait for Ms. Storm’s menacing scowl and short strides to pass by.

Start.

Up Twin Cedars, right on Twin Cliff, loop around Cedar Cliff, down to Stoney Parkway, up Greyfield, wrap around Wraywood to Old Happy Hill to come back. Negative splits so high schoolers don’t mock your efforts.

Right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left.

Pump your arms, relax your double-jointed hands, caress the chest, evenly breathe from your diaphragm, strike the ground more, lower your forehead; your body is synchronized and one with the infinite, whatever that means. 

T.R.O.Y. starts to play as I loop back around, my second wind keeps my pace honest but my hand-me-down baggy clothing exposes my left shoulder. The saxophone medley makes my heart sink, and I phase out of this world. Into a sort of ignorant bliss.

Have you seen it? It is truly spectacular. The spectacle of a vista in the tundra could not compare. The eternal sunshine of the spotless mind if only for a fraction, a millisecond. The deciduous trees reach out to bid me a greeting to an elevated space, to feel every cell in my body to work as a whole system. Complete synchronization.

Goofy grin on my face, middle school composure, ashy kneecaps, arms flailing carelessly, headphones keep falling off, half a mile left, 30 minutes until my bus arrives at Foxwood. 

Chris Diamond, acne-prone 16 year-old, 4th string quarterback, 1st string white trash. I initiate an euphoric wave to the hormonal group of teenagers, showered by routine calls of “faggot.”

Right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left.