“Miles & Sheldon” or 20 Minute Writing Exercise 1

               I could be writing more. So, I challenged myself to write in a totally free-form, stream of consciousness way for exactly twenty minutes.

This is what came oozing out of my little thinky-box:           

  
Miles was speechless! “What do you mean it’s missing?! YOU were the one in charge of keeping it safe in the first place!”

Sheldon’s eyes felt glued to the toe of Miles’s left shoe. It was a really nice shoe. Gorgeous, even. Wingtips. Blue and grey. Italian. Sheldon decided he just had to find out where Miles bought his—

“LOOK AT ME!”

Sheldon reluctantly (but very quickly, mind you) brought his gaze back up to Miles’s piercing blue eyes. Those eyes had that look…again. Sheldon hated that look. Especially when it was directed at him. Especially when he deserved it. Nothing good EVER followed that look.

Miles hated having to give that look even more. That look meant things had gone VERY wrong and VERY fast. That look meant having to move sooner than anticipated. Probably while being chased…and most likely shot at…or worse.

“I’m sorry, man” Sheldon sniffed. “They got the drop on us. Someone must have tipped them off!”

Miles froze. He took a single deep breath in, then a slow single step toward Sheldon as he exhaled.

Dammit. It’s a possibility. There appeared to be three options here:

1) Sheldon was the dumbest motherfucker on God’s green earth for letting The Heirloom leave his grasp, for which Miles would be sure to forcibly remove Sheldon’s eyelids, lips and thumbs. 

2) Sheldon is a thief…which would make him even more stupid. The punishment would be the same (with the addition of burning the aforementioned tidbits then rolling the ashes into a nice, tightly packed cigarette, which he would cheerfully smoke as he broke into Sheldon’s house to murder his entire family. Even the bird.) 

3) There is a mole. 

Thoughts?

Coonin’ for Clicks: An Open Letter to Raven-Symoné

Coonin’ for Clicks: An Open Letter to Raven-Symoné

“Girl. There’s only ONE African continent, and only ONE European continent. There’s no way in hell you don’t know this. Especially since your class privilege allows you to travel.” YES!

Black Millennials

Dear Raven,

You good girl? Because lately, you’ve been in the spotlight for your less-than-smart comments on Black culture. When I first met you, you were a precocious toddler on The Cosby Show. Your quips were hilarious, your presence was powerful. And even though you lacked experience, your command against a seasoned television vet like Bill Cosby, was a brilliant indication of an imminent acting career.

After years of diligence, you were given your own show. That’s So Raven, ushered in a new format for Disney. Combining humor with singing, you were an iconic Disney star with crossover appeal. Without you, there would be no Miley Cyrus or Selena Gomez. Without you, Disney would be a stale media imprint, instead of a behemoth for adolescent talent. Your work inspired Nickelodeon to pivot as well, with shows like Unfabulous, Drake and Josh, iCarly, and Tru Jackson VP all relying on pop-centric pubescents…

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Leigh Anne Tuohy, Racism, and the White Saviour Complex

Sigh…thoughts?

The Belle Jar

Leigh Anne “That Nice Woman Sandra Bullock Played In The Blind Side” Tuohy recently posted the following picture and caption on her Facebook and Instagram accounts:

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We see what we want! It’s the gospel truth! These two were literally huddled over in a corner table nose to nose and the person with me said “I bet they are up to no good” well you know me… I walked over, told them to scoot over. After 10 seconds of dead silence I said so whats happening at this table? I get nothing.. I then explained it was my store and they should spill it… They showed me their phones and they were texting friends trying to scrape up $3.00 each for the high school basketball game! Well they left with smiles, money for popcorn and bus fare. We have to STOP judging people and assuming and pigeon holing people!…

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NeverSkurred’s Mind Infection – On Bill Cosby: Please Don’t Make Me Have To Be Mad At You

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I don’t want to think Bill Cosby is actually guilty of the crimes of which he has been accused. I grew up with Bill my entire life. The Bill Cosby Show, The New Bill Cosby Show, Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids, The Cosby Show and Cosby (goddam, that man knew how to brand!) Even the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad Leonard Part 6. Through it all, Bill was there teaching life lessons in maintaining a strong moral fiber.

I believed in Bill. When he went on tour railing against the state of Black America, I was one of the ones saying “well y’all were thinking it, he just said it!”

So again, I don’t want to believe these women that claimed Bill coerced them into his home, where he drugged them then sexually assaulted them. I don’t want to believe that he promised to help or hurt their potential career paths if some of them didn’t go along. I want to believe that Bill actually is a man of integrity. And, until an actual judge and/or jury convicts him of these crimes (which has NOT YET happened) I’m going to hold on to that belief…shaky as it may be at this point.

The court of public opinion, however, has already tried and convicted Bill. There have been multiple blog posts calling for a silent boycott of all things Cosby. Television interviews have been canceled. His upcoming new show that was in the works has been halted. All because of what people are saying.

That being said, if it goes from speculation and rumor to fact that he assaulted these women…? Fuck him. Fuck his Jello Puddin’ Pop eating, “pull yo’ pants up, boy!” screaming, silly face-making ass!

But what about his legacy in television? Can I then separate the artist from his art? I don’t have a problem doing that with a Roman Polanski (child raping fuck that he is) or a Wesley Snipes (wife beating fuck that he is) or to a certain degree even an R. Kelly (…umm…just…fuck that he is.) But that seems different somehow. I think the main reason is that I never believed in those artists in any sort of substantial way. I never thought of those other artists or any like them as a societal pillar of any kind. So, it’s a lot easier to consider Polanski’s Repulsion to be one of my favorite films or head nod to the “arr-uh” as he sings about laying around the house butt-nekkid except for sweat socks and house shoes.

With Bill it’s different. I expected more out of him. I expected more from myself and others because of him.

So, if these allegations turn out to actually be true, not only will I be outraged, I’ll be deeply disappointed. And somehow that’s just so much worse.

NeverSkurred’s Mind Infection – Evolution (or Rambling On About My Life and Future and Stuff…)

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I’ve been going through a lot of personal changes in my life the past few weeks. Most notably, I stepped away from being a full time artist. The reason for this is quite simple: I’m not getting any younger.

Being a “starving artist” when you’re in your twenties can be an enriching experience…even when it totally sucks…and it can and will suck. You express every emotion and experience through your creative impulses. You get an automatic pass for not having a lot of material resources (read: money) at your disposal. You rationalize that you are so dedicated to your craft that you are willing to sacrifice everything (time, energy, comfort, health, sanity) for the sake of your work. And no worries, when you become established, whatever the fuck THAT means, and you’re receiving checks with all those zeroes and everyone is telling you how brilliant you are (despite the fact that they have absolutely no clue what you’re on about) it will all be worth that sacrifice. Continue reading “NeverSkurred’s Mind Infection – Evolution (or Rambling On About My Life and Future and Stuff…)”

@#$%!

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I hate trash day

I hate Thursday because it’s trash day

I hate money because I don’t have any

I hate anxiety because I can’t think

I hate caffeine because it doesn’t help my anxiety yet I’m addicted

I hate my cat for being such an adorable fucking asshole ALL OF THE TIME

I hate being an adult (sometimes)

I hate my boyfriend for forcing me to realize I need to be an adult

I hate my selfish immature ways

I hate my forgetfulness for causing me to forget my phone charger

I hate my phone for not working

I hate the internet for no reason other than it exists

I hate being this hateful but it helps sort of

I hate that tomorrow I’ll either feel better or worse and I don’t know which

I hate this poem that’s not a poem

FUCK!