Tuesday Night Introspection
Am I destined to die alone,
Old and reclusive,
Far beyond the reach and thoughts of those who at one time referred to me as brilliant?
Departing years after those who really knew Tyrone,
Not just Nitty or Monday?
Am I solely to blame?
Is this penance for sins committed long ago, when I was young, eager and careless?
Ignorant, omnipotent and relentless?
Is self hatred,
long veiled by pseudo-narcissism,
The source of my solitary demise?
Who actually dies alone?
He must have been the worst of the worst, he had to have been the product of bad parenting.
Had to have been. If you let them tell it.
I was the last of a dying breed,
now extinct with my final breath,
Foreign to all others.
What if…the only thing keeping you from universal acclaim and greatness is yourself? This is in direct correlation to the oft overlooked third verse of Kendrick Lamar’s classic “Sing About Me” off his epic album Good Kid, m.A.A.d City. There's no self doubt, no fear of failure. Yet, there is a fear of death, but not the typical fear. I know I'm a mere mortal. I know I'm gon leave here one day. Me, you and everyone else has an expiration date. Shit, to keep it 360 with you, a couple times I was damn near close to ushering myself to perdition, intentionally as well as unintentionally. But I'm speaking more on racing the clock. I felt Kendrick. How I interpreted it is, what if I leave here before I make my mark? I realistically feel like I'm within striking distance of the world knowing my name and our brand. What if I die before fulfilling my promise to my mother of making it financially feasible to put her feet up? That's damn near everything for me. She went through hell for me. It's imperative that her golden years are genuinely golden. And then there's me. Am I game for acclaim and attention after living a life of relative obscurity, outside college love on the yard or my trap days on 1-7-0 in Highbridge? The crazy part is, I've felt this way throughout life. The last time I felt this way was right before I released my first work, 100 Blocks Stories. My fear was finally getting to the front door, within grasp of glory, only to have it slammed shut in my face. See, glory to me wasn't defined by commercial gain three years ago. I just wanted to prove to myself that I could do something positive in my life, that I could use my God given talent to do something that my folk could be proud of. Lord knows I've had my share of underachievement. We say we want the money, we say we welcome the bright lights. But that also means there's no more running to the corner store for a Dutch or in the liquor store for a quart or posting up in the plaza of your home projects. Here comes the media going through your trash, posted on your lawn, hiding in bushes. Here comes the slander and unwarranted hate. Am I ready? Is the team ready?
As always, send all love/hate mail to firstname.lastname@example.org. Most of the time I'm dolo, but it's always Crew Love regardless. We do it better than the rest in esoteric casual apparel with our iconic unbearable teddy. Our fall lineup includes long sleeve tees and hoodies donning our greats of WWE unbearables. We’ve also got some other fly ish on deck. Catch us in the streets or peep game on IG as theunbearablescrew. We’re also on your friendly neighborhood Twitter, @crewunB. Follow the squad as well: @tymonday, @TheMisterCeizzo, @CraftyLefty57, @UnB_Lo, and @TLC_herballNK.
So today after work I proceeded to go back inside to my building, as I walk into the door I let it close behind me. A fellow employee, who everybody seems to think is the genius, approaches me and says "hey can't you hold the door for me? I say to him "are you a female" but of course I didn't use that word. later on the day we realize that another employee was not present the same gentleman walks over to me and says such and such is not here and you have to do her work and he proceeds to poke me hard, on my shoulder at which point I stood up and grabbed him by the throat and told him not to touch me ever again was I wrong for that?
Comment or reply to @crewunB
Sometimes, late at night, when the Bally, Harold Melvin, Teddy P dem are your only friends, you look around the room and realize it's just you. Then you realize how lonely lonely can get. You wish so dearly that there was someone to be there by your side to…you know what I mean. And Teddy’s crooning through your speakers, real mellow like, as only he can. You really feel a type of way. Then you remember to look to your left. Your ash tray is looking type prestigious. And one, bitch. For every cat out there stuck some damn where in his feelings…nigga, did you read the last paragraph? Stop your blood-clot cryin’ and call your friendly neighborhood sativa pharmacist to place a ‘script. Come through. Match two. Ok, ok. Enough of the shenanigans. Welcome back. I know, I know. It's been a long time, we shouldna left you. We never disappeared, though. We just chose to play the back row to get other affairs in order. Starting with the brand…the indelible @crewunB. El jefe @TheMisterCeizzo, lil bro @UnB_Lo and myself chose to embed it into our skin. Why? Because it's more than just an apparel company. It's a movement. It's a culture. It's our culture. The UnB tanks were an undeniable summer hit; I'm sure you’ve seen them if you live in 07631 or make moves in Bergen County. We still have a few left. Get at us. This fall/winter though…prepare for hoodies and long sleeve tees. We gon give you that WWE flavor. Yes, that WWE flavor. We’ve got multiple color ways for your favorite WWE superstar, UnB style, of course. It's about to be Smackdown for real out this hoe. And Monday nights are always RAW. And at my own humble behest, be on the lookout for the UnB Hammer Brothers suit design. I'm telling you, it's serious. But when you see us fall up in the spot with the UnB varsity coats on this late fall/early winter? Curtains. The haters gon have to do what they do in third person. As for me, I can't complain. 100 Blocks Stories is still doing well. The wave is mounting for part 2. It's coming, but I'm taking the time to perfect it. This time around, there's more at stake. In the meantime, I've coauthored my second book, though in sharp contrast to the first. I've Got It!: The Journey of Kayden Kinckle is an illustrated children's book about a brave little child of color named Kayden, a double below the knee amputee who receives his first pair of prosthetic legs and endeavors upon walking for the first time. I coauthored it with Kayden’s mother Nikki, a close friend of mine. The story is endearing and true, the illustrations are A+. Next up is her story of Kayden’s pregnancy and all it entailed, which I also coauthored. I've also began to write poetry, with a book of love poetry to be released next Valentines Day. The Harlem quarterly African Voices magazine is set to feature some of my poems in its upcoming digital issue, and has already given me the opportunity to read before an audience in Manhattan. I'm not cashing Andre Young checks just yet, but trust and believe, I won't relent until we are. You know the format. Send all love and hate mail to email@example.com. If you aren't already, follow the Crew on the Twitter, @crewunB, our CEO @TheMisterCeizzo, members @CraftyLefty57 and @UnB_Lo, our tattoo man and UnB design artist @TLC_herbalINK, and myself @tymonday. Check us out on IG as theunbearablescrew, so you can see what I'm talmbout. Now that we’re back, expect it like before we went on hiatus.