If you’re gay and trying to fuck me, do you have any idea what kind of spectacular specimen that would require? My god, you need to check yourself. You not only have to get over the fact that I’m not even a little bit gay, like looked at gay porn as a test and said, “You give the outside world too much credit with this fluid sexuality thing” not gay. But fuck dude, what about you thinks your persuasive “man of the people” posture is gonna work on my ass? Nigga, I play people. I see your game. It’s not even work with your frontin’ ass thinking a handful of drunk ass endearing comments means shit to me.
Okay, wanna-be hood rat Nick who plays it fast and loose with the word nigga is prancing about. What kills me about tonight is that I’m not hopelessly drunk and managed to find myself entangled with a crowd that not only was borderline arrested, but was having the drunk ridiculous conversation about when and where and why you’re allowed to say “nigga” amongst...friends?
Let’s pick a beginning. The first thing that provoked me to write was not that a dude who really wants to fuck me was way too drunk and blatantly in “try to fuck me” mode tonight. What prompted me to write was his overtly drunk sentiment that, “You have power.” Whatever he thinks of me, not in a kick your ass way, I emanate a certain power that he is rather attracted to and intimidated by. I say intimidated because once when we were sparring he was very worried I would hit him in the face or too hard despite his easy 40-50 pounds on me.
To my mind, he’s right. I am powerful. I draw attention. I do real shit. I actually care and work too goddamn hard to even make mockeries of what I’d actually like to see in the world. He managed to get way beyond too fucked up tonight and pissed off the wrong bar tenders and a friend of his that was all but arrested before he wandered off just in time. And I’m sitting here like, it’s Wednesday. I haven’t been drunk in a couple months, who do I know will be out? The lonely big black guy who has more (old) money than he knows what to do with and is excited to see me even if I smell like shit from car dwelling for 4 days.
These people are serious. They don’t care. They’re of a different class. I’m happy to flop about in the mud with idiots, but my life isn’t really needing to mitigate the fight between two obscenely violent drunk people. I’ll take the suggestion to bow out and walk away. This crowd tonight was not. He’s 32 or 33. I’m 29. I’m not going to be the “old guy” getting cussed out and thrown out of bars to any greater degree than the polite suggestion that I should peace as I’ve engendered in the past.
Ya’ll need to realize though. When I talk shit, I’m talking to you. My small cohort. My little getting by, got enough of a job, doing they shit or getting hitched ass bitches in my world. The sole best benefit of my writing is that you know it’s about You because I don’t keep ignorant company. You have just enough money to pull. You read just enough to be middle-class white guilty. You know we’re in as good, if not the best, position we could ever be to scorn life’s bullshit circumstances. You know I’m not faking it. You know that, as far as I’m concerned, my life is basically half way over.
I’m elated that I’m back. I’m not the forlorn lovesick drunkard who can’t get over the ex that meant the world. I’m not debating what “friend” means into oblivion. Fuck you for days, Nick P. is risen and the shit I was put on Earth to spew is coming fast and loose. Naw, nigga you ain’t fucking me, you sad sack of shit quasi-middle-class white friend are full of self-indulgent shit, and I’m going to do everything my power to manipulate and sell and work you to get everything I ever see needs to be done. Get fucked or get gone if you’re not about it. I don’t actually need you.
And it’s not to be mean. I just don’t have time to waste. If you want to be the gay dude thinking one day you’ll say or do what you need to get up in this ass, that’s your bullshit path to follow. I’ve missed me. I expect everything of you, more explicitly, what I can squeeze out of you that you won’t volunteer. Lucky you! You get to see it coming. Fuck all the little blacked out children talking to the police about their pathetic fucking lives. I’ll give you an hour or two, but mother fuck me, I know my shit and where I’m at. These kids. These ignorant petty jokes on life. Show me you want to be them. Flash it for a second. I’ll cut you down. You got plenty of time to be fuck all lazy ignorant pieces of shit. I’ll sort you out.
