F**k This Day

I wish at times that I could just forget how to breath.

Why can't I be 8 or 9 again, with the only fear being my parents finding out that I didn't complete my homework? Or showing up at home after the sun went down....

I'll explain...

Some of my favorite things to do as a child were playing the original Nintendo.... yes I am old, or playing house with Lisa who was my first crush, or guns with Mike Maze, a boy who had a RAD(this word was actually used... I told you I am old!!!) knife collection and satellite dish ears. I would pick which one made me the happiest at the moment and make it happen. Showing up the the front door of my house anytime past 7 meant a beating. And not just by a hand... a hand gripping a chopstick or a spoon....not a metal spoon of course. We aren't a crazy family!!! So next time you are eating sushi think of my 8 year old ass or the backs of my legs... talk about raw! Most parents want god fearing children...My brother and I were mom fearing children. Because god we were told would forgive us. Mom beat us like we were in old Asia.

My father only hit me once...
with a shoe...
in the head...
once again...I'll explain.

We had just come back from a family outing with my father. We being my 2 smaller brothers and myself. I was entirely too excited to be home since that meant going across the street to see Luis, which consisted of eating cup-o-noodles doused with Tabasco, and hours of video games with occasional basketball breaks. I was stoked, so stoked that I forgot that I was not alone in the back of our beige, ninja turtle looking van. I lept out of the car and slid the van door closed...
but it didn't completely close...
that's impossible, I slammed it shut. I slammed it shut alright, right onto my brothers outstretched little fingers. They looked like miniature plums instantly. My father yelled what I think was my birth name. I couldn't tell with the pitter patter that my feet made against the asphalt as I sprinted across the street, away from my father, and towards the safety of Luis's home. I remember my last step was about a foot from his lawn...and then "WHACK!!!" I instantly knew why my hand eye coordination was so good when it came to sports. Why I was always a pitcher, or a quarterback, or a shooting guard. Or why it only took me one shot with a sling shot to take a snakes head off. He threw that fucking shoe 30 feet in the air and picked me off while on the move... that is talent!

Even with the beatings I had...most of them I deserved. I would still chose to be back in that time...

Life today is filled with work, war, reality tv garbage, individuals with no respect for themselves or others, useless statistics, garbage right wing hater news, working overtime to catch up just to go to bed immediately and start the fucking rat race over again tomorrow, and ridiculous non-creative music with no meaning.... what the fuck happened to real Hip Hop?!

People always say don't live in the past... I say WHY THE FUCK NOT?!!!