excerpts from my new piece on cultural disconnect from my awkwardBLACKgirl perspective in sula x la liga’s zine.
- sula collective x la liga zine collab
- dropped two days ago: june 2nd, 2016
- features my essay/free-write, “nobody understands the awkwardBLACKgirl”
- features a portrait of george w. bush made out of tiny assholes
- challenges the status-quo and cultural superiority/inferiority
- calling out the bullshit the way we see it
- i’m literally in love
- this issue is ill
A. Timmy sips drank.
B. Tommy smokes dank.
F. Timmy and Tommy hop around town, searching for sunshine.
D. Mama loses the war in the back of Adams Alley.
Z. The end – but all is ephemeral.
judging myself, and the feeling never goes away.
there’s tension in my chest – simultaneous reasoning: not being good enough and being too good. growing up in a world of lies, while striving for those exact fabrications. i drift into delirium when i think of my experience here. neurotic nostalgia for the crows in my head come morning time, and i’m tired. the crows keep coming and i want to say “leave me” but i don’t know how.
and i guess i am constantly in destructive rotation because of it.
-jasmine (and the crows)
I been thinking maybe I’m not as grown up as I’d like to believe. On the outside I am powdered with the skin of a brown baby. Inside I am withering like a mystic elder lady. I am sort of lost like a baby bird missing her left foot – stuck in perched mouth.
I am trapped in my own illusion of what I thought I was to be. What I thought I was to become, is not even the half of me. Why is life so fucking crazy? You grow up thinking, “Hey, maybe I stand a chance. Maybe I actually have a shot as this life thing.” Only to find out you have to make that chance. You have to create the opportunity for it. And opportunity is a complex thing. It’s ephemeral like the puff of a cig. It’s ever-changing.
The possibility of allowing an opportunity to play a small part of your destiny is really a hard thing to maneuver through. Simply learning to flow with nature. Organic life education. I didn’t have any classes to learn that. No discussions. No pamphlets. Only experience. The experience of being in this dual-world of reverie and reality, empathy and power.
I don’t know maybe it’s a Pisces thing, but I feel bamboozled, disappointed in the scheme of things; in the false perception of my purpose. I don’t know where to begin to take back my liberation, if I ever had it. I don’t know but maybe I do.
– Just a journal entry of a perplexed perception. Peace, jasmine.
is a muthafucka.
obsession perfection suffering growth symbiosis mud light darkness caterpillar joke work illusion evil lovely love not love anxiety race body aesthetic privilege pain wound salt over under air breath meditation self care pace.