Why I love my cuz.
We drove at a snails pace through traffic. Rain fell in fat droplets on the windshield as I squinted my eyes making out the blurry spots of brake lights in front of me. You silently watch the cars drift slowly by as the radio plays my favorite tracks from my iPod. I fleetingly wonder how you feel about the music I've picked when A Devil Came Down to Georgia by The Charlie Daniels Band comes on, fiddles and all. I wince slightly.
She's going to say something about this song. I know it, I think to myself.
You turn your head towards the radio and I brace myself for your look of scorn, an argument in their defence already on my tongue when you say, "I love this song" and turn it up.
No one else. Thats why I love you. Happy fuckin birthday!
Oh. Wow.
Isn't it funny sometimes that it only takes one beautiful day where everything goes exactly the way you want it to and the birds sing and the sky is clear that you forget just how fucked up the world is? No? Maybe thats only the way I feel sometimes. When I have eye opening experiences like the one I did tonight, I feel like the most naive, idiot in the world.
Rascism is not dead.
You already knew that, right? I knew it too. But I only knew the rascism that was taught to me in history books and told in stories and played in movies. I never actually touched it myself. Or maybe I was so sheltered throughtout my life that i didn't notice when racism was slapping me in the face. I don't know, it sounds like a dumb theory.
The whole point of this rambling bit of enlightenment is I was shocked by
this . I've never known rascim like this.
