From the Desk of Crazy

This blog is extremely personal, but to be a good writer one must overcome the fear of being explicit about things that occur in this life's journey. The gravity of a lot of the situations hinges on this honesty.

I find it unfortunate that some of the subjects I broach may be considered taboo, so if you have sensitive eyes and ears or if you’re just massively judgmental, you may respectfully fuck off.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Everybody Seeks Crazy

Our attempt to examine the various contexts to efficiently find significant others in a tumultuous modern world.

We're working on it. Be right back.

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

VIDEO: Nigga Please

This is old, but I showed this to My Boy Blue and we both agree:

1) The teacher was being ignant, but ultimately harmless

I'm sorry, but teachers need to be paid WAY more than they do. I know for a fact that even if that little boy didn't say Nigga right before the incident, that he and others probably said it regularly. For that little bastard to say that man needed to be PUNISHED and lose his job? He is taking things way too far.

First of all, the man WAS punished. 10 days unpaid leave. Public humiliation. Lesson Learned...but to lose his job??? It wasn't like the continuous and obvious racism of Imus, he just seemed to be having trouble relating to the young black men in his class. I seriously would have written a letter if they did any more than suspend him. You don't go to school, get your license, work for years in an oftentimes turbulent environment to try to help these youngins' just to lose your job over something so trite?! I think THAT'S crazy...but what do YOU think?

I'm way more worried about the less obvious disparities betwixt the different races of the world. For some of my favorite and most enlightening videos on race, look at the facebook page for Everybody Loves Crazy.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

THOUGHTS: Man of my Dreams

I had a dream last night that this random person just kept calling my name and chasing me sweetly until I finally chose to stop in the middle of the road in front of an open faced restaurant so I turned and he pulled me to him and kissed me deeply in front of everyone and I melted but before I could even compose myself he began to walk so I walked with him to this high rise tower of some sort with long florescent white ramps as aisles but he walked faster than me up and up surely because he is just so tall I think and he veers off to the right and I do not quite see where he went but thankfully he is waiting and ushers me through only to begin walking the inclines again surpassing me while I'm starting to believe he is choosing to do this and it has nothing to do with his powerful long legs but I look up and he is gone once again I try to find him but instead I run across a room with a sauna harboring 4 beautiful specimens of what the male body can be and they each vie for my attention and ask me to join them which I momentarily consider but I'm worried now about what my statuesque suitor was rushing toward so fervently that he would leave the woman he so actively pursued only moments earlier so I bid them adieu and backed out of the humid box and I hear him checking aisles like a child in a panic that was too busy looking at the colorful boxes of cereal while his mom moved along to the frozen goods and yet he's not saddened that I am no longer there he seems angry and when he finally sees me I smile and he does not but instead holds my hand apologizes and implores that I should follow him once more which I do because it would seem that the higher we climb in this building the less gravity has a hold of my senses but he's sprinting away from me now and I barely see him slide through a door that I can feel leads to the peak of this structure and as I open the door I feel the cold heat of the bullet make it's way through my chest before I even hear it and somehow defying the laws of physics I run forward through the room of his preoccupations with a look on my face that is in no way surprised and the smoke is still rising from his revolver and I'm looking him dead in his hollow eyes as he proceeds to kick me through the spiring glass window to my doom.

Is this foreshadowing or is this because I saw Inglorious Bastards last night?

Friday, August 14, 2009

Finally...a Working Title!

Everybody Loves Crazy? Yes crazy. Ridiculous crazy, demented crazy, funny crazy, silly crazy, kooky crazy, creepy crazy... Seriously, look it up in the dictionary, close your eyes, now point. Wherever you fits! As long as it's from observation and not experience, right? Well, you would think. But to epitomize "CRAZY" as the general idea of being in a state of chaos...well, come on....who doesn't like a little drama in their lives? I do believe the only difference between being melodramatic and normal, whatever that is, hinges on the ability to recognize and control ones own "crazy" tolerance vs. "crazy" response levels.

Someone once told the Wright Brother's it would be crazy to try and fly. Magellan was considered crazy for thinking the world was round. Society's crazy tolerance? Pretty Low. Any innovators crazy tolerance? Pretty high. It's hard to hear the naysayers and put on the X-Ray glasses to see that convention was simply trying to attribute qualities to THEM that the status quo was exhibiting. Their "crazy" response? Shoving them all the finger by proving them wrong. So crazy isn't always a bad thing. It's a two way street, or more appropriately...crazy is in the eyes of the beholder.

I think the real reason I am so enamored with this title is because of a little something I used to dub the subliminal intercom. Ever since I can remember, my Dad took it upon himself to stream various tapes and CDs over the intercom system of our house. I remember having dreams of playing croquet with suspender-clad, well spoken white men with heavy southern drawls only to rouse to the same voices teaching me vocabulary words or sales techniques in the morning. "Everybody Loves Crazy" reminds me of one such lesson from a Zig Ziglar training exercise.

I didn't kill my wife!
(It wasn't me, it was Shaggy)
I DIDN'T kill my wife!
(Seriously! I was at my moms)
I didn't KILL my wife!
(I just smacked that ho)
I didn't kill MY wife!
(I killed HIS wife)
I didn't kill my WIFE!
(Don't ask me where her boyfriend is...)

Stressing each word can create an entirely different meaning, and although "Everybody Loves Crazy" doesn't vary much with different verbal inflections, it still amazes me that the title is such a tiny grouping of words, but yet it evokes a multitude of possible definitions.

You Love Crazy because what's life without a little excitement?
She Loves Crazy because secretly, she enjoys being the victim?
He Loves Crazy because crazy can be mysterious and guys like that?
They Love Crazy because like attracts like and they're crazy too?
I'm not really sure. Just my observations, but I Love Crazy because I have to appreciate the insanity in my life so I can revel in the calm that much more.

Everybody Loves Crazy Because you can't have crazy alone, now can you? If you are on a secluded island worshiping imaginary pink unicorns while river dancing to Milli Vanilli naked....well. That's your prerogative. But when the masses get a hold of you and become afraid, or fight against your ideals, or YouTube you...well then that's when the paddy wagon rolls in.

But eh, what are you gonna do? People get off on picking other people apart and pigeon holing them into one category or another in order to make themselves feel that much more secure in their own little box. Perhaps that is my reasoning for pursuing this project. Or perhaps that's really why everybody loves crazy, because in our continual quest to prove how sane we are by exposing other people's idiosyncrasies, we're only revealing that everybody IS crazy.

But that's just me...What does "Everybody Loves Crazy" mean to you?

Everybody Loves Crazy

Welcome to truth. I appreciate you stopping by and witnessing the progression on my first novel “Everybody Loves Crazy”. I’ll be blogging about the process, the progress, and the prospects…by that I mean, the people and situations I encounter outside of the confines of my novel that still qualify as batshit.