Thoughts on Growing up Dumb

“What’s up playa!?”

This is how i would greet someone from home.

After some constructive criticism I’m going to attempt to use better grammar. I downloaded an app to help with this. Sorry that I’ve not written in months. I’ve been stressed out! The Technicians are having their way with me (I’ll explain this later.) In a way it ties into what I’m going to write about today. So lets get started..

There was a post on X:

I pondered a few minutes after seeing it but ultimately decided the poster was correct. I wanted to talk about it, funny and sad.

BALTIMORE

It’s known by many names. “B’more,” “The City that Reads.” I’ve cringed at some: “Bodymore Murderland,” “Charm City.” To me it’s just “Baltimore” (prounounced Bald-imore.) Many people out themselves as not being from the City because they will announciate the “t.” Why they do that I’m not exactly sure. It’s this retarded “street cred” I want to address today.

My family, a hodge podge of american misfits, down on their luck souls, and german emigrees found their way to this part of Baltimore which has since become known as “Pigtown.” The area supposedly earned it’s name for the masses of pigs ran off the train to the local slaughterhouses. I grew up in a home slightly similar to seen above. The first was a roughly 800 square foot brick oven that cooked us like a pizza in the summer time. We’d hang sheets up eventually and put window shaker AC’s in the windows to take away the pain. Pigtown is unique in the fact it was/is one of the last white ghettos.

Interesting news article from Newsweek 1994 “White Ghetto?”

Pigtown also borders Sandtown which is a notorious black ghetto and if you’ve seen “The Wire” you have an idea of what that’s like there.

I spent my younger years in a nearby neighborhood that wasn’t quite specifically white or black, we were mixed roughly to equal portions. Needless to say it was as you’d imagine – impoverished, frustrated, drug addicted, and looking back? full of absolute retards.

I need a drink, join me

If you were to take a sip of my home brew, my Baltimore nostalgia beer, you would find it to be a farmhouse ale. You would taste the sweet memories. Swimming at my grandmother’s in the summer or thanksgiving with my moms family where everyone talked like sailors (my aunts and uncles were firefighters) the raucuous laughter was only broken by another joke or story. Then you would taste sour: your parents fighting. Your closest friend dying. The overwhelming hopelessness you felt often. The best and most intense flavors of this beer. Then comes another flavor. “What the fuck? Is that hops?” you wonder. This is wrong. All wrong. This makes no sense. This is the twenty people in your street fist fighting, the police getting blowjobs at the motel. This is the parchment on what this beer was written. Insanity.

Jerry Springer IRL

We’re time travelling back to the 2000’s. It’s so fucking hot out, the windows are open but we’re standing in our mother’s front bedroom window. We’re in nothing but a pair of shorts. It’s too hot. Outside in the furnace two different neighbors had parties going, the beer flowed. Now it’s getting late and we see them converging on each other. Hands waving, men yelling. You see me laughing “aww shit, it’s about to go down!” I inform you these neighbors don’t like each other. One obviously has something wrong with him, he’s constantly screaming. Poor guy sounds like he’s always on the verge of having a stroke. Regular people would be intimidated by him but here? These aren’t the guys you need to worry about. They’re mostly all bark but do know they’ll bite if pushed into a corner.

The crowd’s yelling get more intense and then.. we see it! Someone swings! In a flash they clash and they’re all swinging. I don’t mean that they’re fucking each other (although, that would have been just as comical) No, they’re beating the shit out of each other. Women, men, whatever inbetween. You see me become crippled, laughing out loud. It’s so miserably hot. Within seconds here comes the white and blue cop car down the street. “Holy shit, can you imagine his thoughts?” A neighbor had likely called before the the spark hit the tinder. Too late. Just another day in the hood.

Big Z and a scorned heart

Z was an ex felon car mechanic that lived in our block of homes. He usually worked the neighbor’s cars on our street. He’d be out there with a cigarette hanging off his lip and eventually dumping god knows what into the drains to join the rest of the shit in the Chesapeake. He was such a personable guy up front. A minister. He had the black don’t crack thing going on: dude was post heart attack, in his 60’s but still looked like he was 35. Z had a white wife of similar age, a young 7 year old son but also a 30 year old son. Anyone with limited sense knew he had some skeletons in his closet. You gotta keep your head on a swivel out here.

There was a young blonde girl who was younger then anyone would be comfortable with that started to come around. She was already experienced, the way she walked (hips swinging) she was no stranger to her tools and in these neighborhoods many o-retard falls into the trap. It starts with substances – usually pills at this time – and then payment proceeds from cash into flesh. Yes, it’s disgusting, but this is life here. It is not uncommon to see girls as young as 13/14 pushing baby strollers..and it’s even less uncommon to find that their boyfriends are older. Their lives forever changed and the poor children likely doomed to repeat the same.

One day you get home and notice blood all over the side of Z’s car. You say “Hey man what the hell happened?” He just stared. Then you notice the young man laying there. Turns out it was a lovers quarrel over the young hood rat. Z did some time for that, lmao. I never saw him again as I left while he was away. No idea if Z is alive.

Local Bar – I’m not feeling it tonight.

I was 17 or 18 and frequented local watering holes. I was lucky enough to have a full beard and composed myself different from my peers. I had a family name (not a threat but just known amongst older gen) I rode on so wasn’t questioned or ever ID’d. I flirted with all the women like a little asshole is want to do. I would indulge their husbands as if they were my personal plato’s and aristotles. They had done nothing with their lives or just fucked them up so bad they resorted to alchol to speedrun them to oblivion. Bars are drama. I didn’t understand this because I too was retarded and I still don’t understand how I somehow escaped the fate of having a personal barstool that through time had perfectly contorted itself to my ass cheeks.

I was a frequent partaker in this world but one night I wasn’t feeling it. I’m glad because this is the night two local brothers decided to murder the local bail bondsman. He was shooting pool. They walked up behind him and cut his throat. The poor guy crawled his way to the front door – nobody did anything – as the guys stabbed him the whole way. He died. The brothers went to jail (again.)

Such is life here, dear reader.

Maybe everyone is retarded

Just a month ago I was working in an establishment where a kid had music blaring. These kids that grow up here aren’t wanting for much. This is a tourist town, on the beach, it has it’s problems but generally it’s nothing like where I grew up.

The lyrics were something stupid and repetitive. I’m kinda getting “old man – get off my lawn!” but I know a lot of rap and this, whatever he was listening to was awful. No soul. There was a black guy in there and we locked eyes. I could feel his cringe.

I left wondering why anyone idolizes ghetto culture? Why is it so infectious? Why does it leave onlookers, who’s lives have order, consistency, and warm love, wanting for it? It’s not adventure, it’s not even fun. It’s dumb. Lives are ruined in these places before they even get started and now regular people are taking notes? It’s so absurd. I even notice white girls doing dressing and doing hood rat things – and it’s become mainstream! Imagine being me escaping trashy culture only for it go mainstream. I laugh out loud. Now that i’ve told some small stories I also want to talk about the “dark side” of things, and maybe the reasons that should be considered when promoting these cultures.

Violence & Neurosis

My prior life is all but a fever dream memory in a lot of ways but when I think about the bad of Baltimore? It’s the following:

• The Loss: Out of my original clique of friends most are gone. Some I had to cut off but others have died from various causes, the latest being Allen who was last year. The last one alive is M. M’s life is indicative of the nonsense as well. His 12 year old sister killed herself with a shotgun (she shot herself in the stomach) after being raped. His mom was a prostitute & crack addict who died of cancer young. His step father did raise him but used him as a source of money financially strapping him blowing the excess on alcohol, hookers, and gambling. Don’t feel sorry for him because it’s life. Nobody knows different. To make you feel better.. We laugh. That’s how we deal with everything. I think we’re amazed that we’re as old as we are. He’s doing well but still in that life so to speak. Anyways back to dooming..
• Paranoia: I bought my first home in Florida and the neighbor came to congragulate me and my wife at the time. She brought us brownies or cupcakes. I threw them out. I knew that she had either poisoned them or wanted to use them as leverage for a later favor. Turned out this was the case at all. I still have to check myself when a neighbor (or anyone) interacts with me. I come from a world where truly,nothing is free.
• Violence: You become numb to it, or so you think. You learn to use your hands early and some are better than others. I cringe thinking about a memory. I was once out and a kid was shanked up the tummy. I don’t know what it was over but it was bad. Today? My first instinct would be to administer aid of some kind, but that Allan? “I better get the tab and go drink at home before I’m stuck in here all night.” I stepped right over him like he was roadkill. Cashed out before word got out and police locked the place down. My friend was stuck in there til almost 5 AM. I think he survived, for what it’s worth. I know it’s wrong but I won’t lie when I say.. I don’t really care. This wasn’t the worst thing and some I can’t ever write about. I will tell you that long exposure to this hasn’t made me cool or tougher. It’ll just leave you feeling tired and empty. I lightly covered this here.
• Negativity: These neighborhoods? They’re petty. “Oh you’re doing well? Well look at you Mr. Big Shot! Why don’t you come over here and help pay my bills? Oh you want to leave? Why? Every place is the same. You think you’re better than others? It’s stupid. Oh you moved to Florida? I can’t believe you would move to where there are hurricanes who would be that stupid? They laugh and sneer on their empire of shit. They know better. You know nothing. You will fail and if you succeed it’s only because of x, y, z..
• Retardation at it’s extreme: There are bright people in the hood but they’re usually inflicted with some form of retardation. Drug addiction, perverts, adhd, schizo, fetal alcohol syndrome, alcoholism.. you name it. I sometimes wonder if it’s just not where the genetic refuse of polite society goes to ferment. That includes me. However.. I suppose sometimes even that toxic swamp can produce something beautiful. Haha. Hahahaaha.
  
  Don’t get me wrong, I think there are fucked up people of all socio economic classes. That level changes and distorts as you go up the ladder. But at the bottom? It’s just upfront and because nobody has anything most of the world doesn’t care. The worst abuser of these classes is the kind beneveolent manipulator that descends from his guilded class (he’ll say working class) life to pretend to care. The retardation of people at this level, the things they do and say, will put them squarely above a chimpanzee. So they buy it, but even a chimpanzee will figure out pain if you leave the test on long enough. If you never come up for air, see a different world, you will truly begin to believe this mankind. It creates a feeling of hopelessness.

Everyone is different

So this is how I feel about it. It’s a guilty pleasure for me to listen to suicideboys (or old skool stuff) and I think about being a younger man. I dabbled in that life. I’ve moved percocets and other things. Ecstacy was a good pay those days and I ended up with a club drug connection. I laugh because I was really too retarded for drug dealing. I had picked up about $300 (my cost – it was like 40/50 pills that could be sold to college kids $18-20/pill) of ecstacy to flip and was promptly pulled over for speeding 5 minutes later. Thank god my vehicle wasn’t searched because that would’ve changed everything in my life. Think about that. Whats so glamorous about not being able to get a decent job? Doing time where something else could go wrong? It’s shit. That’s the reality. Or it’s when you watch people get lost in those drugs. When you visit home you see your old boss now part zombie walking down the street missing a shoe with an empty gaze. The mother who’s nodding out from dope while her baby screams in the stroller. It’s ugly shit. I think some of us identify with that music on some levels because it’s about getting away from it as much as it is reliving it. But what the fuck does that have to do with Tucker who’s dad has a 7000sf house and shows up for his son? Why does Tucker want to indulge in that life? I just don’t get that.

I cleaned up in my early 20’s. I had a trade and I was in love with someone who I felt was on the same page. We would get out of dodge together. Boy that turned out to be a bad bet but that’s a story that I’ll be writing about soon.

I’d like if there was some answers on why society opts to do hoochie mama shit. If anyone has any writing on that I would be much obliged. Hows that for hood talk? Ha.

Anyways, I’ve spent two hours on and off writing this. I’m not proof reading.. I don’t even like to reread my stream of thoughts. It’s tedious and boring. There will be more soon. Til next time reader!