so I find myself bidding on collard greens, used and unused, all shapes and sizes, and I'm doing this from the back of a hatchback, 1987 Ford Escort. The absence of Periwinkle disturbs me, you see, but "fret not" I tell myself. I only dream in black & white it seems, and manly colors such as Periwinkle, Fuchsia and Mauve affect not the outcomes of certain types of dreams, especially ones where I drop a week's worth of savings on the green ends of carrots. Healthy meals, I tell ye, healthy meals.
Moreover, I start thinking to myself, "when did abstract notions of the prism become gagues for masculinity? Or emotions, for that matter?" Looking from my hatchback at a 4'3" dwarfstar (he was small, and he was famous, thus .....) clad in a mustard yellow shirt, a tie dye beanie, pink Dockers with silver Nike's (Cross Trainers, of course) and white, silky gloves that stretched halfway up his arm, I said "wow ... a happy fella'!!" The case not such! He was a miserable little prick! So much for dreaming in black & white, he makes his way over to my prized Escort, pulls out a knife and slashes up my tires but good. Yessum.
(speaking of tires:
Man who run behind car get exhausted
Man who run in front of car get tired
back to my story)
I didn't give a shit at that point. I went to a Fear Factory show in 1995 (my first concert) and my tires were slashed when I returned to my (then silver) pick-up. Didn't get home until 6:30 AM, and I wasn't all THAT pissed now that I look back. Besides, I was in NJ then, and here I'm on the Virgin Islands, so what happens if I can't drive around? Not like I'm leaving thy island any time soon.
Anyway, what's with the color and emotion thing? Green is for tranquility. Pink is for fagots. White is for virgins on their wedding day. How many virgins do YOU know on their wedding days? Black is for depressed people.
I wear black all the time. I see it as a happy color. Because whenever I wear the fucking color, IT MAKES ME HAPPY!!! And pink? I dunno, I think it takes a REAL man to wear pink. Especially if you're the keynote speaker at the Homophobe Convention in Little Rock, Arkansas this year. They throw tomatoes, apples, pigeons, Ju-Ju Bees, and loaves of (in)bread your way if they don't like what you, ahem ... "stand up" for. So watch yourself, Mr. Pink Tie.
Trying to link colors with masculinity and femininity is bullshit, if you ask me. So is the whole notion of "gender". What else does it do but divide us up into further hemispheres so we have something to argue about? Entire university programs have been devised around the topic "Gender Studies", and I'd love to see the jobs people can get after graduating college with a "Gender Studies" degree. Ads will read:
"Now Hiring: Masculine meatheads who know how to act like invalids, further conforming to the petty needs of what society tells you to. Now experience, no thinking, and no personality required, unless of course, it is borrowed from some other source. Oh and one other thing, if you are well aware of how to not be yourself, call people "gay" who do not talk and act like you, and just have a working knowledge of being an all around peckerhead in general, then WE NEED YOU NOW!!! Salary is $125,000 per minute, plus commission on everyone else's sales and hard work. Apply online at www.iamreallywonderfulandiknowit.com ... or call 867-5309 and ask for Blake. No, Jenny does not work here anymore."
Not much difference form the world we live in now, I suppose. If you truly want to slash the system, live androgynously, and perhaps maybe, just maybe, others with follow thy path to enlightenment as well. But I wouldn't bet the Vegas stakes on it.
As for the dwarfstar, I took out my Louisville Slugger and bashed him the noggin a couple of hundred times. No hard feelings, really, I just must have been wearing pink that day. Or took some "gender studies" courses at college the previous semester. At that point I was really just worried about bidding on my collard greens and having enough money left over to hire some Puerto Rican to mop the blood that splattered on my beauty of a vehicle. Puerto Ricans .... what are they good for anyway? With their one star flag (stealing our colors, mind you), gold chain wearing, hubcap stealing, walking down the streets of New York City holding banners and waving their third rate rip off flags. WORST PARADE IN TOWN!
I oughttaaa .....
(this post is dedicated to my man, Edward Norton. Not MY man, per se, but perflaps THE man ...