Tuesday, October 25, 2016

Hey, it's goin' no place

Woke up today with this song in my head.

This album is forever tied up for me with spring 1993. It was one of my favorite tapes (THAT'S RIGHT, TAPES) to listen to on my yellow Walkman while walking from my senior year of high school to my job at the fast food chicken place. When I got there I'd buy a cinnamon raisin bagel for 35 cents or whatever from Hot Bagels next door and then work until 11 when my mom picked me up. The next day, I'd do my homework in homeroom, between classes, or in other classes.

So when it came time for me to teach, I had some empathy for kids who didn't have time for homework. I never said so, but homework counted for very little in my classes, a policy I think every inner city teacher should adopt. The difference is that I was a white suburbanite electing to work 24 hours a week to save money for college. I got my acceptance letter in February, I was chillin', and the culture of white suburban high schools is that teachers of seniors know this about college-bound kids and give a wider than usual berth. It's not at all the same thing as kids working full-time because their family needs the money.

The chicken place is gone, but through the power of the Internet I could sit on my couch in California this morning and map the 1.8 mile walk from my New Jersey high school to the former home of Kenny Roger's Roasters. Also I could listen to Dinosaur Jr on demand without a cassette. Not the future I was promised in 1993 if I worked hard and went to college, but I'll take it.

Thursday, September 22, 2016

This is why Al Gore invented the Internet

I've been wanting to burn it all down lately, which would include starting a new blog, but I have not. The last thing preventing me from starting a new blog is......wait for it...

...I can't think of a name for it.

*looks up at the title of this blog*

*looks around awkwardly*

So anyway, here is a video my four loyal readers should watch from a blog post you might want to read.

Friday, August 19, 2016

If I wanted to do something I could be proud of, I'd put on gloves and pick up the trash that's in my side yard every time my across-the-street neighbors throw a rager.

But I don't.

I kick the trash into the street because it's all I can do this morning to get up and brush my teeth and pretend to be a human being.

When I'm done kicking bags of orange snack food and blunt wrappers and Burger King sacks into the street, I see the blinds in the guestroom are parted slightly and my silver tabby's face is peeking out. Queen of the 'hood.

Tell me somewhere there is a chola writing in her mandatory English journal that sometimes she goes to parties at her cuz's house in this part of town that's getting white and when it gets to be boring grownup stuff they sit on this lawn across the street, wobbly on alcohol they stole when their folks were pretending not to see, smoking and eating Whoppers, and there's this pretty cat that watches them from the window.

Tell me this is how it goes.

Next week I promise to get gloves and a bag and do this right.

Saturday, June 25, 2016

Waka waka

Me: Look out, Pac Man! There's a ghost coming right for you!
Rick: *gives me a funny look; eats Pac Man*
Me: Well, I think I'm hilarious.
Rick: Yes you do.