DAYUM. DATS A WHOLE LOTTA HONKIES.

Memoir title: The Only Black Guy In Boise

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I'm writing from a coffee/breakfast stop on the outskirts of Downtown Boise, in the linen district. Yeah, I don't know what it means either, but there are bedspreads EVERYWHERE. As you can assume by the title, I'm feeling just the slightest bit out of place. Thankfully though, it has nothing to do with the attitude of the Boise-ites. If anything, their folly would be going out of their way to make me feel comfortable.

"You alright?"
"Yeah no, I'm fine...I'm just a little-"
"Can I get you some...y'know...grits?"
"I'm good--w..how do you know what that is?"
"Some fried chicken? Forty of high life?"
"Really, I'm good. Thanks..."
"I swept the stoop if you want to sit out there and play dice~"
"Really...thank you..but...I'm fine."

Also, I'm pretty sure I saw a drug deal or a hitman being hired on the way over here. Low-rider red sportscar pulls up to unsavory-looking individual (buzz cut, huge shorts, tats, apparent fear of showers) the window rolls down and the two have a hurried conversation in whispers and hisses. Eventually, I see the driver cruise off looking very pleased.

I dunno. Maybe they played a quick game of Yahtzee.

Quarter-Life Crisis Update:
Y'know how I'm usually bitching about wanting to bone down teh hardcores on ALL the girls? For some reason, as of late--I've had little to no...er...drive...whatsoever. In all aspects, really. It would be presumptuous to say "Life hands you a couple of defining moments, and you either rise to the occasion or spend the rest of your life chasing it." because I don't believe that. I think that's an easy way to make things look monstrous and terrifying. I'm sure its more organic than that. Even still--I feel like the lover left on the station platform. I'm still waving my kerchief and its almost sunset.

I know. Pretty gay analogy. I AM pretty gay.

I guess I constantly think I'm fighting. I pretend there are odds. Foes to defeat. Challenges to surmount...when life isn't really like that. Not the whole time. I should take time to relax...but I've just got that BUG still. Not the one that gets me to get up and fight tooth and nail--but the one that makes me tell myself "Dude, you fucked it up. You had your chance." and then mope and shrug. Walk along the train tracks and try to hitch a ride.

WHY DOESN'T ANYBODY ELSE REALIZE HOW AWESOME I AM?

I think that's the ridiculous notion I'm trying to shout.

Also there are a whole lot of white people in here.

Student Of The Month,
Dak