The Fervor of Black Panther

Well hello there strangers, well I guess that’s actually my fault.

See I started a new job, and with it came new hours. Said hours are draining, as is the job.

I apologize for my absence, but I have returned! Like the dinosaurs from Jurassic  Park. I have regenerated with blood from a mosquito…that’s plausible right?

Anyways today I am here to talk about Black Panther. Not specifically about the film, but the culture and hype around it.

Black people honestly have never had Black royalty to look up to, besides Hakim from Coming to America. Seriously, usually, we’re either struggling or a criminal. We are usually portrayed by some stereotype that is actually more damaging than reputable.

Black Panther is our chance. Yet at the same time, there is a truth we must recognize. Black Panther the hero was created by a White man, Stan Lee. Which is awesome, it is indeed something that should be applauded. Mr. Lee should not be put on a pedestal though. He is no White Savior my fellow Blerds out there, he knew how to cash in on the climate. Oh and Blerds stands for a Black Nerd. Just heard that one yesterday, I think it’s stupid but yeah. There ya go.

Also all the money for the film…is any of that going back to the community? Hmmm? Or is it going to Marvel and Disney? These corporations are cashing in on the fact that Black sells. You give Black people an image we can aspire to, and we will buy into it wholeheartedly. Simply because we have not had one of such a caliber. A dominant Black cast, with characters that are not damaging. They are real, even in fiction.

So ladies and gentleman, what do we do? We start a revolution in our thought process. We allow this film to build our confidence into a revolution of our own making. We realize that we have power beyond our wildest dreams. We create our own production companies and we create our own heroes.

Black Panther should merely be a beginning. It seems like we are waiting for other people to tell us when we are allowed to celebrate what we are, even with this film. We must continue to be unapologetic in our Blackness. We must celebrate without seeking permission, without waiting for someone else to give us our due time. We must take our due time from them. It is it not given, it is taken. I’m not preaching violence, but I am preaching armament. Arm your minds and your pride in your culture.

Now is the time, for they believe that since they have given us a film this Black fervor will die down. If we allow it to do so, they have won.

Wakanda forever! Blackness forever! We will not let this be the end, it is the beginning, I hope.


Evoke My Anger


Well ladies and gentleman we may have gotten our definitive proof that Donald Trump is indeed racist. Though I mean, who didn’t think he was in the first place?

Many of the excuses I have heard for Trump’s behavior all link to the same thing, he’s a businessman. Businessmen are often out of touch and incredibly insensitive.

This though, this one is a doozy. To call specific countries sh**holes which are populated by people one would see as minorities in the United States, and then say why don’t we get people from a predominantly white country; I mean that is the most borderline yet overtly racist thing you can say. Norway, really? Of all the places…Norway.

No one has flat out denied he said these things. White House officials are tip toeing around whether or not it was said. Therefore he said it, or he said something along those lines. That’s it. That is what I believe.

Now if you want to argue it from a standpoint that he was still thinking economically and not racially. Norway is generally a pretty nice country. Economically they hold their own. Yet so do other countries in Africa. Don’t let the advertisement of huts, guns, and war fool you. Parts of the African continent thrive. There are countries in Africa that are not war torn and poor. Not every child in Africa is starving.

Haiti is pretty bad, that’s actually kind of understatement. Funny thing is, people still go there for vacations. Apparently there are nice enough parts that people want to go to. There are resorts, just like there are in Jamaica.

Then you have South America, which people tend to travel to all the time. My stepmother lived in Brazil for work for a few years. It’s not some sh**hole.

I’m not appalled he said this, because honestly it’s something I have come to expect him to say. What I am appalled by is the amount of ignorant and hateful people who agree with this orange haired monkey.

The amount of xenophobic and racist comments I have seen hurt every fiber of my being. This is Trump’s America. This is it.

This whole country was founded by immigrants. I have no idea why anyone feels like they could stick their nose up at someone else looking to come to this country. Does no one remember the words that are etched at the bottom of the Statue of Liberty?

The only people who have an inkling of being deserving to be xenophobic are Native Americans. At the end of the day they weren’t, but honestly no one has the right to be xenophobic.

Yeah maybe people come from sh**holes, but they come here looking for opportunities. Oddly enough that’s what the hell America is about. That’s the idea this country was founded on. I don’t know if some of you need a reality-effing-check, but you’re getting one. This country is not some pure staple. This country has blood on its hands. Most of these countries that are sh**holes were made that way from colonization from a-hole countries like ours. Even countries like pure Norway have some kind of ties to screwing over someone else. After countries have been pillaged for everything they have, they are often left in the wake of their new found liberty. Liberty given in a problematic and disastrous way.

So to all you xenophobic racist butt wipes, f**k you. F**k you very much. I mean so very much. How dare you.

Funny thing is you always also tell us Black people to go back to Africa too, in this same wave of racism/ nonsensical xenophobia. WE NEVER WANTED TO LEAVE IN THE FIRST PLACE. Everything was fine and then y’all came along. We were thriving people in Africa, and then here y’all come. You turned us into slaves, and colonized our countries. Then you abandoned them when they were of no use to you, or we just were rebelling too much for your own good. Most countries don’t give up control of colonized countries out of the goodness of their hearts, it’s because their colonies got a little too expensive to handle.

Anyways I’m pissed, if you couldn’t already tell. I’m ranting because of it, so it’s time for me to wrap this up.

I detest hatred born out of ignorance. It makes my skin crawl, it’s completely illogical.

Be Brilliant Against All Odds

In the beginning of the year I was able to find and join multiple support groups, all which are secret. So no names will be used here.

Two of the three groups I joined are amazing, and thriving. I do all I can to continue that thriving nature. As new member I attempt to be an integral part of the community. I want to make people laugh, think, love themselves, and be honest. I want to cultivate growth.

The last group…which contains the people who are closest to me in location is extremely dull. No one posts anything, no one is excited about anything. It’s pretty much a dead zone. Since joining I feel I’ve been met with some resistance. Even the administrator seems a little stand-offish with me. The only thing everyone seems to be excited about is the one trip this group does during the summer. Besides that, there is nothing.

How in the hell is this supposed to be a social or support group, if no one does anything? I won’t stand for it. There needs to be change to foster true growth. The group is going to die without it.

My whole point here ladies and gentleman is no matter where you are or who you are with, let your brilliance shine. Don’t let the resistance or lack of effort by others dull your magnificent light. Be you, and be real.

As a natural introvert, I’m putting myself in somewhat of an awkward position. I’m not doing it just for me, I’m doing it for every other person who joins the group next. I may get met with ignorance, depression, hate, and many other things but I will never stop. My brilliance will not be dulled by the rocks of hate and ignorance.

Be brilliant y’all. Cause honestly, no one else can do it for you.


Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri

One day not too long ago, I divulged my day at the movie theater. It was a treat for myself, for finishing last semester. With all finals and homework done, I ventured to the recliner seats of my movie theater and watched. I started writing this post a month ago, the day after I saw the movie. After watching the Golden Globes and seeing the movie get its full due with awards for Sam Rockwell and Frances McDormand, I am elated. Not only did those two win. Martin McDonagh won for the screenplay. The film itself won for Best Drama.

Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri, was the first film I saw on my double feature day.

I think the first shock and awe of going to see that movie, was the amount of old white people who were surprised when I walked into the auditorium for the film. I mean I think I was the only black…and young person in there. I know it’s counterproductive to social progression to point stuff like that out, but I think it’s hilarious.

Me, a short natural haired young black woman. This type of movie generally doesn’t do well with the demographic I exist in. Unless they’re artistic types, which I just so happen to be. As a former film major films like this catch my eye. Generally even just the young part of me would turn away from films like these.

There are a few things that drew my eye to the film. First, the absolute ardent yet impetuous attitude of the protagonist. It’s apparent in the trailer and even in the premise of the film. I mean you have a character who puts up three billboards to spur on the local sheriff’s department to find her daughter’s killer. Least to say, she is passionate. Second, Frances McDormand. I adore her, I think she is a beautiful underrated actress. Though her awards would say she is anything but underrated. If you don’t know who she is, think Marge Gunderson from Fargo. Yes indeed, she was the sheriff from Fargo and she won an Oscar for it.

I’ve seen the series Olive Kitteridge and that was the second time I fell in love with her. I feel anyone married to Joel Coen, has to be talented. Which couldn’t be farther from the truth, but it just seems like a prerequisite.

The whole premise of this filmed screamed rebellion to me, and that’s one of the reasons why I think people my age should see this film. In a time where there is so much going on politically and socially, it’s a time to learn to rebel in an intelligent yet poignant way. This movie addresses underlying biases and hateful mindsets against people. It orchestrates the small minded mentality that can still exist even in this day an age. It’s a call for women to be unapologetic in what they want as far as justice is concerned. It pushes for people that currently live in hate which is subtle, to become better. Sam Rockwell’s character is complicated and beautiful. Frances McDormand’s character is unflinching yet vulnerable.

You get everything in this film. From domestic violence to racism to sexism to just almost any type of ism you can think of.

I love this movie, to bits. I thank every cast member and crew member for putting this film together. It’s a beauty. There are moments which completely shock you, and moments you go “Hell yeah!”

Congratulations to Three Billboards outside Ebbing, Missouri, you made this young woman cry.

Super Bigly Very Smart: A Little Minded Man That Gets Things Done

For the love of everything is holy, the government can stop playing this elaborate prank on us now! We’re good, really. Just bring Obama back for the third term, seriously. We get it.

We as a country have reached a new level of embarrassment. While Trump seems to be getting things done in office, he also seems to be doing everything in his power to make us look like idiots.

I mean the tax and economic plan are terrible. Another wave of Trickle Down economics that makes no damn sense. He’s also removing precious bits of nature we need in the country. While simultaneously stepping on the toes of minorities. Though he did lower the African America unemployment rate significantly. It was sky high under Obama. The man has done some great things, but then he opens his mouth. While also doing things which benefit rich people, and not everyday people.

His mouth literally ruins every bit of anything good he has done. The other day our president tried to prove he was smart…in a tweet. A mother fu- a tweet. A damn tweet. The media have a field day with him, and he feeds right into it. I mean maybe it’s an elaborate ruse for him? Or maybe he’s just an out of touch businessman. Which makes a lot of sense to me.

Trump’s only sense of reality is that of a spoiled brat. Sure, he’s been bankrupt a couple of times. Being the shrewd businessman he is though, he finds his way right back.

He is running this country like a business. Businesses have no souls, this country does.

Hold on ladies and gentleman, the man is an idiot, but he is getting things done. Just hold on to your hats, and do what you can to keep you and your family safe. Save money because the economy is most likely going to tank. Prepare for the inevitable. I’m assuming the whole healthcare thing will never really get fixed, so prepare for medical costs you never thought you would have. Don’t just keep complaining, prepare yourself. Yelling will do nothing, if you don’t have your own home together.

Because this self-proclaimed genius…might be trying to get us all killed. Or at least weed off us weak ones…the middle class. Cause the ones who work for things and don’t have silver spoons are the weak ones, right?

This is where the newest found sadness comes in our country, an orange haired sycophant. To say people are forlorn about him, is an understatement. Hide you money, hide your wives ladies and gentleman. The orange genius is making a run for America to be great again…when it hasn’t really been great for anyone who isn’t rich and or pale…or doesn’t have a penis.


Is He Viable?


The last couple of days I have been presented with a rhetoric concerning Donal Trump. While also being a viable host for a sinus infection. Twas amazing I tell you, amazing. I was exuding joy at the chance to use my last two vacation days from last year for being sick. Not mention next week is my last week at my job *insert praise dancing here*. Back to the Trump rhetoric.

The rhetoric asserted that we have no real proof that President Trump is racist. I vehemently was ready to argue that Trump is, in fact, a racist, but found the evidence lacking. Why is it that the media work so hard to prove that he is racist? Wouldn’t it just show in his words and actions? These are the questions I was asked.

At first, I found them troubling because I could not immediately answer them. I couldn’t positively bring up definitive evidence that President Trump is indeed racist.

Then the same person reiterated that Trump used to be widely accepted by the black community. They also asserted that he could not be a racist based on the fact that he has made it so far as a businessman.

At first, I let these arguments wracked my brain and I was perplexed. Why is it the media work so hard to deem this man a devil? Hell, he does it himself, he doesn’t need their help.

I agree that the media hunts after that man, they find any hint of absolutely anything to degrade him. As far as the proof of his racism, sadly I only thought in the realms of Black people. As far as we go, the only thing we definitively have is him saying people on both sides in Charlottesville were good people. There are other subtle hints, like his lack of diversity in his cabinet. Plus the company he keeps does not scream minority friendly. You also have the case of calling football players who knelt SOBs, but is that racist?

Once you step out of the scope of Blacks, then you have Mexicans. This is where I found my evidence. His racist ideology is apparent. Generalizing a whole people to illegals and criminals. Then you have the Muslim ban. Which likens a religion to a people. These are the proof. These things are evident.

Do I believe Trump is racist? Yes, whole heartedly.

As far as his success as a businessman, that makes no sense. It’s like saying that since someone has a Black friend they can’t be racist. You can spend time with Black people, give to them in charity, and even have full blown conversations and still be racist. There are degrees of racism.

Donald Trump fits into one of those degrees. Trump employs Mexicans at Trump Tower but also likens them to criminals. Someone can be widely accepted by the Black community undeservedly. I have seen it time and time again. One White person stands up for one Black person one time, and the internet catches wind of it. Suddenly that one White person is invited to the cookout. You don’t know who this person outside of this one instance, why do they deserve an invite already?

It’s like the case of the young child who posted a bullying video, Keaton Jones, only to find out his mother and father are racists. It’s also alleged he got “bullied” because he was calling other children the N-Word.

One instance of good or fear does not speak of that person’s character. Even people who have moments of hatred can be “good” in the other realms of life. You must see the whole picture. As an instant society, we are quick to make judgments both good and bad.

Trump is a sycophant or brown noser like many other if not all presidents and businessmen before him. He never picks a side, to appease both sides. Though most people would beg to differ with my statement.

My conclusion is that Trumpinsky is indeed a racist, though in some cases it is not blatant and a matter of picking at his words. He fits into a degree of racism. Having ties to the Black community does not excuse anyone of being racist. I know a Black woman married to a White man who will not let her talk about her Jamaican roots. That’s a degree of racism.

I also conclude that the media does tend to go after Trump like a sport. They spur the fire of anger and ire in the hearts of many. Turning it into a fervor of feelings almost as palpable of that of his supporters. Basically, we’re all falling for the same media trap.

The man is uncouth and immensely unfit to be president. He’s embarrassing. His who’s bigger contest with Kim Jong-Un is ridiculous. His speeches are probably written well and then he puts his own idiotic spin on them. His ideas are backward and crude. He’s a businessman through and through. He is not a viable president. He is a viable sexist, racist idiot.

Here’s to hoping he doesn’t get another term. This Trickle Down economics plan he has signed will be his undoing…hopefully.

Talking To Myself



Love is a tricky thing. A thing you have yet to capture. It’s a balance of viewing the faults of another as something you can live with and love. It’s a balance of seeing their charm through their downfallings. It’s not easy. You know this, but it’s been hard.

You’ve been with a man who had nothing but faults. Who hit you, called you names, drank like a sailor, and treated you like you were scum. Now it’s hard to accept others faults. You’ve been through so much, you don’t know if you can accept anyone else’s faults. You just learned to accept yours.

You have always wanted love, and you have fought for it fiercely. Without realizing that you couldn’t love anyone while hating yourself.

You accepted every bit of abuse because it was what you were accustomed to, you thought you deserved it.

You’ve done terrible things, my love, it’s true. You have sinned over and over again to no avail of redemption through your own hands. But you my dear are not some criminal and you’re not some delinquent. Everyone makes mistakes and to hold them against yourself forever would do you no justice. You live with every piece of the pain of your choices every day. Making it worse for yourself by berating yourself over and over again will do you no good. How can anyone accept and love you and your faults, when you can’t do it for yourself?

This year you live unapologetically on who you are. You apologize for your faults, but don’t use them to hang yourself. In the acceptance of yourself, you can accept someone else and vice versa.

Are you ready for love? Probably not, there’s so much more to learn. You’re still a little selfish. You’re only 22 going on 23 my love.

At 22 going on 23, you can finally look at yourself in the mirror and smile. You can ask God forgiveness for your mistakes, and forgive yourself. You can understand that it’s pertinent to be patient when having delicate conversations. You, my love, are growing. Love will find you eventually. Until then, live your own life.

You are my first love because, in order to find another love, you have to be my first love.

You are living beautiful, don’t stop now. Keep going. Talk to that guy you never would have before out of fear. You were given fear at birth as a present, you cradled it for years, and now you cast it aside. Be young, be loud, be bold, and be honest.

2018, here we come.

Get Comfy, Respectfully


Being an online dating junkie is interesting, to say the least. Alright, maybe junkie is a harsh way to put it. It’s my primary way of dating since men just don’t seem to approach me these days. Or the men that do approach me are twice my age or approaching me with mediocrity.

I remember this one fella I met fondly, and by fondly I really mean that I shake my head every time I think about our encounter. It all began in the normal fashion, he sent me a message and I replied. We sent a couple messages back and forth and then I felt comfortable enough to send him my number. There was texting for a couple days until finally, we spoke on the phone. A cute little country boy with a twang that made me giggle. Avid about nature and just being a good person. The overall conversation caught up in his need to impress and just be cool. More like act cool and make me roll my eyes, but I digress.

Then it takes the proverbial turn southwards. Country boy is indeed white, and I am mixed. He knows this already because he’s seen pictures and I’ve talked about my heritage a smidge with him.

“Ya know I think all people deserve to be treated fairly, I mean I have a black friend.”

Oh for the love of- why the hell does that matter?! I know you’re telling me I should cut the guy a break, that can’t be too bad. Yeah, except it didn’t end there.

“Yeah I have this black guy I work with, we have gotten really close. He calls me his white n**** and I call him my n****.”

Full mother effing, got danged stop! That is it! You stop your behind right there! Son of a bent over back hair! You have got to be kidding me.

Here, ladies and gentlemen, you will find exhibit A as to why I no longer gave this…guy any more of my time.

Here you can see that he was not cozy enough with me to relax and stop trying to impress me. You can also see where he got way too cozy in the thought that he could just say that to me.

Eminem doesn’t even say that word. He would never fix his mouth to try and say it, I hope.

Eminem totes the line of, I am comfortable and cozy enough with black people but I’m not so cozy to where I issue disrespect to their history. My stepfather is the same way. A white man who grew up with black best friends. He’s listened to rap since he was a kid, and has been in almost every black environment imaginable. He’s married to a black woman, with a mixed child and another on the way. He would never fix his mouth to say the N-word. Because there is a basic respect there.

So I’m not saying you can’t get cozy with black folks, please do! That’s how you defeat hate, that’s how you spread education. That’s what we need in this world. Yet at the same time, don’t get too cozy. Give respect where respect is due. Get cozy with them not because of the color of their skin, but because of their personality and culture. Don’t get comfy just so you can say you have a black friend. That crap is wack.

Get comfy friends, but put a little respect with that comfy.

I Confess To Who You Were To Me


I confess I have had my heartbroken since I was a child. This heroic image I had of my father was broken. It was shattered and replaced with a deep seated anger. I don’t want to believe it was hatred, that would be too unkind.

This idea that my father was a hero, was quickly dashed against the rocks of manipulation and abuse from the hands of my grandmother. My father sat back and fed me to the woman who made him who he was. A quiet man in a shell. Afraid to stand up to a woman who used money as manipulation, and words as knives to cut your will. Even for his own child.

I confess that I saw you as my savior only to realize that you were the guard leading me to the electric chair. I walked The Green Mile of my innocence with you walking ahead of me.

I confess that I love you and I have forgiven you for all of this. I gave found solace in the fact that you had to deal with her. You grew up with her, she molded you into who you are. You were young and you had no idea what to do.

I confess that now that you are on the brink of having another daughter, that if you don’t keep her safe I will. Physically I know you will guard her with your life. But for those emotions my grandmother attempts to kill in her, I will not let it happen. She will not be left to the slaughter. I will be an emotional martyr if I must, she will not be served the same dysfunction as I was. She will not dine on self hatred, as I have for years. Her worth will not buried in someone else, it will be buried in herself.

I confess that I accept what I have been given. I accept it with pride and bright eyes for the future. My dysfunctional home created a monster for will. A monster whose eyes and hopes shine bright. A monster for the disenfranchised and broken. I am a monster in my fights. I’m like Cookie Monster, I’m a pleasant fun loving monster for education and justice…and cookies.

I confess that my grandmother still in some moments scares the small child in me. But with therapy and time I have become my own person. I have decided that she has not done anything to deserve my time except buy me things. Even as an adult she uses words to cut me down, too bad for her I have turned into an oak tree. Can’t cut me down so easily anymore.

I confess…that I love my life and who I am. There are certain secrets and truths I keep to myself to hopefully share with someone else one day. The ones I know help others I freely dispense in what I hope is knowledge and wisdom.

I confess that I am just another human being on this planet. I have beauty in my soul, while still being capable of terrible things. I am a human, nothing human is alien to me. Homo sum humani nihil, a me alienum puto. I have the capacity to do the greatest things humans can do, and the worst. I am no better than anyone else.

I confess that I am, me. Unequivocally me. Only to become unconditional me. Because for years I thought there were conditions.

I confess, that I love you whoever you are. Even if there is hate in your heart. If you can look nowhere else for love, you have found it here. Never forget that.

Artist of My Year: Chris Stapleton


2017 has been a fascinating year to put it into neutral terms.

My year was full of tears, growth, and joy. It isn’t even over yet, but this post isn’t about the reflection of just me through the year. It’s a reflection on how the music of one man helped create some of the best moments of my year.

For anyone who isn’t familiar with Chris Stapleton, he’s an amazing song writer and performer. He jumped onto the country scene a few years ago with his album Traveller. Even though he had been on the scene for years as a song writer and band member. The most notable song the masses know from his first studio album as a solo artist is Tennessee Whiskey. The song wasn’t even written by him, but it was a much needed cover. It was a beautiful song with gruff and equally beautiful vocals. When I went to see him in July, it’s one of the songs I was looking forward to hearing the most. Of course he sang it last, and it made me so happy. You should also check out the band he was in The Steeldrivers, awesome band with and without him.

His two albums of the year From A Room:Volume 1 & 2, were just as, if not more amazing than his first.

In a year that was tough for me emotionally, Mr. Stapleton helped give my feelings a voice. He put words to things I could not describe, and even gave me a lesson in my history. Drawing out the feelings from past that I didn’t properly process and feel. The pain in his voice mirrored mine, and it put love into my heart again.

I have hated country all my life, with an excessively limited exception to one or two people/bands. Brett Eldredge and Rascal Flatts have been the only two, to make the cut throughout my life. Of course, until Chris Stapleton came along and stole my heart. Brett, I will still marry you though…so ya know. Call me.

Mr. Stapleton’s bluesy take on country, taking it back to its roots, gave me absolute life. The loud and intricate use of his guitar has moved my heart and foot. Both of them tapping along to the rhythm of a great musician. The deep and meaningful lyrics he puts with that rhythm help soothe and create conflicts in my soul. These conflicts have been necessary to my growth as a person.

I listened to all three of his albums throughout the year, Volume 2 carrying me through the end. It was just released earlier this month.

Tennessee Whiskey helped give me hope about love. Whiskey and You gave me a perspective on heartbreak when we try to shroud it in alcohol.

Sometimes I Cry put words to walking through life with pain. Constantly trying to put on a brave face with heartbreak and anything else life sends you. To eventually be met with tears because sometimes you just have to cry. Sometimes pain overwhelms you and you have to cry, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

Either Way put a rhythm and words to how I felt walking around the house with one of my ex’s. The inevitable feeling that it’s all over and no matter what happens, you will never come to love that person again. You fake it till you make it for the world, and create a hell together for yourselves.

Them Stems was just…dope. Ha. Listen to the song, and then read that. Death Row, though morbid gave me such amazing blues vibes. The lethargic music and scruff of Mr. Stapleton’s voice…just yes.

A Simple Song was a love song about family and life.

“It’s the way it’s alright, when everything goes wrong.”

Finding the joys in everything. Or as I like to say it, finding a glass of water while standing in Hell. Looking at everything you have and still being optimistic. It’s probably my favorite song this year.

Nobody’s Lonely put a delicate spin on rebounding. The pain of two people coming together during heartbreak trying to chalk up love to just an illusion and confusion. Making any excuse for yourself not to feel. Trying to block the feelings by looking to someone else.

Drunkard’s Prayer was beautiful reflection on the hypocrisies of addiction, namely alcohol here. This sense of wanting to be close to God, but holding one’s self back with your own shame.

To Mr. Stapleton, sir, you gave me happiness with your music through pain. Thank you. I have so much love for you, I love you man. Not in a creepy I hate your wife kind of way. You too are way too damn cute for me, the way you sang to her after the concert here. So beautiful, your guys’ love is palpable. I love you as a human, another human travelling through this adventure we call life. I love you as someone who feels like I connect with you, I connect with every piece of pain and love.

You are a beautiful human being who expresses both his faults and his love. You are honest about who you are, and that it was one of the most admirable things anyone can do. From this mixed girl who lives in the city and sits in traffic, I love you country dude. Your music transcends race and color. Love and pain are universal.

When I went to see you in July I went with someone who I thought would help light my heart on fire, but he lit it with the fire of pain and left it to burn. Your music helped me get through that. Those moments of hearing and seeing you on stage will remain with me until the day I die. You weren’t my first concert, but you were by far my favorite. You music helps me face the dysfunction of the denial of emotion and pain. We deny ourselves the ability to feel so often, because we thinks it’s easier. We deny ourselves what is basic to our survival, because we believe it will hinder our survival. When really it’s all integral to our growth.

Your God given talent lights up my life man. The songs I mentioned above are only my select favorites, I love pretty much every song on your albums. I cannot wait to see you again in concert someday. You were awesome here at Blossom. Ha, that rhymed. Sorry…I can’t help it.

Alright maybe I can, I just don’t want to.

I truly wish you get to read this, not for recognition for myself, but because I want you to know just how amazing you are. Through your music I see you have a beautiful way with words and perspective on life.

May God bless you and your family as your art has blessed me, and I am sure many others.

Much love to you.


Young N' Dusty


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Perennial Wanderer

Where to begin...

stillness of heart


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