I Been Tied Up

I been tied up all month. And not the, “Yes, Mami. I been bad Dulcina. Can I have another…” kinda way either. I wish… I been doing what I do, which is less than I should. I been hung up on questions and trying to handle the long list of things I have let pile up over the years. When you are off the grid for as long as I was, you tend to have a lot of old shit waiting for you when you get back. I sure did. A good part of this month has been spent being tied up the bad way. “Please NO! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN! THAT! Was fuckin uncalled for!”

I have beet trying to get on the ball with the taxman. He is hurting me right now and he wont even kiss it make it feel better. If you might listen I would suggest you never anger the tax people. They are the folks we used to bump as they passed puddles on the sidewalk so they would get wet. These are the same people we used to beat up because we were bored. Well. I take that back. These are the ones that were smarter than the ones who became cops.

Im not done with the tax folks. Im not. ANd Im not a cryer. I know that tax must be paid so schools can run shittily and so that streets dont sit with potholes forever. I also understand that the cats that run into fires to save Mr. Skittles and grandma get paid off tax revenue. I understand. So I dont mind paying whatever tax they say I owe. Problem is, they TAKE taxes. I dont pay them (EDITOR’S NOTE: This may well be a part of the problem. They take AND they say I owe…. Do one or the other but both is bleeding me…) They take tax. Some crazy percent. So I failed to file my returns.. I did not ask for my money back, of which I should have gotten a return by the way… and now somehow I OWE money? Ok. So I file. Gimme my refund. I could use it. What? I waited too long? Now I cant get it back? THEN WHY DID YOU MAKE ME FILE?

Ok children, Im cool. Look. I owed for 3 of the past 15 years. And between student loans and three years (less money than I didnt claim in returns by the way) back taxes, somehow Im a candidate for to be bent over and treated like a prisoner of war.

I wish it werent true but dragging my feet on the simplest of things has cost me and is costing me greatly. If you would listen to me I would say please file your taxes. Dont anger these ugly little people and dont expect the sister on the phone to NOT sound like she is doing you a favor by not ‘accidentally’ dropping your call and making you start all over. It turns out… she really is.

Where you been fool?

Check it out. I had a friend ask me a simple question and I had a few immediate answers but I kept comming up with answers and I started to think that if I had so many answers maybe I really didnt have one.

It put me in a funk.

I couldnt really focus on the crap I usually focus on. In addition to that I have been busy all month with some of the things in life I havent done that I should have done. I will not elaborate. Fuck you. Its my buisness.

Anyway.

So Im all curfuffled over this. I am. And no matter what I tell myself I keep undoing my own thought. Defeating the purpose. I finally got my footing after a series of conversations with my mother, mother in law and father in law. It all slowly clicked for me.

The answer to my friend’s question wont matter until i am working towards it. Otherwise any and all my answers are bullshit. Let me clarify. I could have given the first few answers that came to mind and then I could have taken it more seriously and answered with my standard interview answer but this is one of my real friends and even though it was a light question, i know, i rather give a serious answer rather than just a standard bullshit answer. With real friends, it is my opinion, that you dont give bullshit answers. Bullshit answers are for co workers you dont like and those cousins you dont want in your buisness. When one of those fringe associates asks you a question you answer it with bullshit. “Hey buddy. How was your weekend?”

“It was cool. How was yours?”

But when someone that matters to you asks you, “Hey man. How was your weekend?”

You better not say cool if it wasnt.

Black Weddings

I went to a stereotypical southern black wedding today. In keeping with a day full of stereotypes we arrived late and actually missed the wedding part. We did, however, make it for the reception. It wasn’t wild like the weddings I witnessed in Chicago as a child but it was quite a spectacle. My wife’s cousin was getting married to a man she has been with for the last ten years. “What took so long?”, the ladies will ask.

“Why now?” The men will ask.

Who the fuck knows. What I do know is that the wedding was very important to my wife’s cousin and so I insisted we go. Yeah. I suppose I am pretty whupped now a days. Fuck you. It makes my wife happy.Happy wife. Happy life.

We came. We saw. We were seen. I freaked my distant family out. Most of whom I do not know and have never met. Some mean looking bearded man in one of them moslem caps. Who is he with?

I’m with your cousin.

And if I would have been a younger, sharper, more aggressive version of myself… I would have gotten up on stage and grabbed the mic and spoke at length about the beauty of the joining of two peoples. And I would have spoken to the fact that not enough of us get married anymore and even some of those of us who do, don’t always honor our vows. And I would have been serious. Which, of course, is why it would have been so damn funny.

Anyway. I was allowed to be reminded that not everyone is suffering in this here bad economy. The rented venue was huge and quite impressive. The brides maids were dressed appropriately and no one looked like they were auditioning for the part of a pimp or a whore. Which was disappointing. I had hoped to see the latest creative way to have a seamstress make outfits with bootleg designer cloth. Maybe next time.