Finals Week, School Mode, SRY! BORING!

I recently finished the book "Blood Done Sign My Name" By Timothy Tyson (2004) Fairly new book.
The book in short is a memoir about a son of a liberal minister in Oxford, North Carolina. Oxford is made up of indifferent citizens, Klan members, Ex Klan members, angry african american youths, and the future most threatening member of the Wilmington 10. An innocent African American man is killed after he supposedly flirts with a white woman at a convenience store. 3 men chase after 20 year old Henry Marrow and kicked him senseless till he lay on the ground close to death, next one of the men who will later testify that he "accidentally shot" aimed his gun and shot Marrow directly in the head killing him. This sends the town of Oxford up in flames- literally the African Americans of the town strategically start burning down the town's stores and warehouses, to the point where A million dollars worth of tobacco goes up in flames. The Mayor of Oxford can be seen in good form when he offers the colored community 7 basketball courts if they stop burning down the town.

Within the narrative of Tim's life and the town of Oxford's divide after the murder Tyson weaves in loads of "what I didn't learn in US history type facts." For example, Tyson proclaims that The Cape Fear 1898 Wilmington Race Riot's “omission from North Carolina History may have been the biggest of the lies that marked my [his] boyhood”

“North Carolina history textbooks never mentioned anything about either the massacre in Wilmington or the white supremacy crusade...The ghosts of 1898 walked among us in the 1970s, and the fact that so few of us knew the past did not loosen its compelling hold on the present” “Everywhere I turned a new falsehood seemed to stare me in the face...And it appeared clear to me- partly because of the lies that filled my history textbooks- that the intent of formal education was to inculcate obedience to a social order that did not deserve my loyalty.”275



“The problem is not that we cherish the story, exactly, nor is the story itself entirely false. Miss Amy’s witness is true, and many of the things we admire about Dr. King are factual. The problem is why we cherish that kind of story: because we want to transcend our history without actually confronting it...The self congratulatory popular account insists that Dr. King called on the nation to fully accept its own creed, and the walls came a-tumbling down. This conventional narrative is soothing, moving, and politically acceptable, and has only the disadvantage of bearing no resemblance to what actually happened,” (Tyson, 319).

GROSS!

"Cement mixer
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
This article is about the alcoholic drink. For the device, see concrete mixer.
A cement mixer is a shot drink. It consists of:
1 part Bailey's Irish Cream
1 part Lime juice (lemon juice may be substituted)
The drink is traditionally ingested by taking the shot of Bailey's, holding it in the mouth, then sipping the lime juice and swirling the two around the mouth. The drink may also be combined as a layered shot, as the lime juice is less dense than most brands of "Irish Cream". The acidic lime juice causes the cream-based Bailey's to curdle. The curdled Bailey's does not taste sour, but it does rapidly gain viscosity and stick to your teeth, reminiscent of cement."

Hello!

Well! The weather is getting better! I have 2 classes left! And Summer vacation begins April 29th!

I've been so busy this month with school and training for the marathon ughhh. Clearly it paid off and was totally worth it in the end!



I even made it to the finish line in time for the 11 04 AM start Red Sox game vrs. Baltimore!




Just Kidding! I was simply a spectator. My Nemesister ran the marathon!


I did hop in the race with her at the 40 K mark...

I held my sign up in the air the whole way to the finish line. I'm so proud of her!

Everyone did so well, some people even ran in costume!





BOOOO!



and one guy ran barefoot! And this guy in CROCS!

GLOB

The glob of paint is
not going to dry
it will remain here
it will become cold
it will end up too
annoying for one
to want to look at
but there it is, see?
a glob of paint can’t
go away it sits
and stands the test of
time passing through day
through night, the glob of
red paint, no- wait blue
no purple, no pink...



The first poem all semester that was announced "finished" by my professor, hmm. I hate it. I wrote it on the bus.


Just a few of my FAV Pokemon

Hello April!

"i dont know some girl was being stupid and everyone was really drunk and she was like acting tough like she was going to hit me so i threw her on the ground haha"
hahahaha.



A million fingers tap the roof this morning
It’s pouring and the room is grey with a desperate light
rain boots on- still too big, done growing I guess
Coffee poured into my mug, sipping and running
down my steps greeted with a heavy drop on my hair
I’m glad I didn’t style it today- what a waste
the rain would destroy it, like the leaves on this tree- now withered and curled,
this tree, this tree one of 7 on the block, for decor
of course it stands alone, very important with a personal fence
yeah it's got its own jail cell, it's own plot of land
it is cared for more than one might care
for it, and yet I’m walking past inmate I mean tree number 2
Trucks filled with once soiled napkins from fine dinners
pull up along the curbs, out runs a man with a stack
of white fabric- he’ll be back for them when they meet their mess
Workers lean against their trucks staring up at scaffolds,
heels can be heard smacking the concrete, clap, clap, clap,
stares shift to a woman walking by, and the rain still pours
and the men throw their jackets across puddles for her
or at least think of how sharp it would look and a man
with a plastic bag for a hat digs through a can looking
for treasure, and when he finds an old meal he treasures it
and eats his feast upon the concrete dunes of Back Bay
and the woman is coming as her heels are now drowning
1 inch deep,clap, clap, clap- they will be done for by 10 AM
and she sees this man and she scoffs when he says
“Good morning” mouth full of someone’s long lost leftover meal
so he returns to his breakfast and I’m standing in a puddle
but I don’t feel the rain on my feet, the rain boots don’t fit,
but I don’t feel the rain on my feet and I’m watching all this
and I think I’m standing still, but I’m not I’m just in step with
the rest, except this man with a shopping bag for a hat on his head
and he’s the only thing showing me that I’m moving forward.
And the inmates wave through the reign of us all