CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 26th, Tuesday/ Oh my god, Paris Hilton is out! That hardened criminal is back in the flow of society. Hide the cocaine and the booze... Lock the garage doors! Close the clubs! This menace to society is back on the scene. Man I'm glad I don't live in LA. It's the Son of Sam thing all over again./ I have to say it is kind of funny this whole thing... I saw the pictures of a smiling Paris as she walked to her freedom. Her family hugged her and reassured her that she can now resume her lifestyle of foolishness and stupidity. Never mind the fact that she now has a record. I'm sure they will find a way to twist it to make it look like that's a good thing. My question is will she stand by the comments she made about changing her life before she entered her cubicle? Will she be as committed to making those adjustments as she said she would be before she did her bid? Hell, I'll bet she's gone "commando" and drunk in a club right now to christen her release. I'd be surprised if anything changes w/ this chick. Before you know it, she will be back to her old self and America will, again, be exposed to the shananigans of Paris Hilton!/ CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 23rd, Saturday/ What a week! I worked a basketball camp but it seemed like I did more child psychology stuff than basketball. I engaged some of the kids in conversation and I cannot believe some of the stories I heard! I gotta tell you that adults really screw up kid's heads! So now it's Saturday and I'm chillin'. I slept late, did not shave or take a shower... I'm funky and I don't care! I just happened to turn on the computer and saw a story about a middle school kid who was caught breaking a rule in a Vienna, Virginia middle school. He was caught hugging his girlfriend in the cafateria! Oh my god! The school has a no touching policy... Are you fucking kidding me? The principal said that touching leads to criminal activity. First there are hand shakes that lead to "high fives" that lead to flailing elbows... The next thing you know, the kids are flashing "gang signals" and having orgy sex in the halls!/ I don't ever want to work another job where kids are involved again. Don't get me wrong... I dig kids. It's the adults I can't get with. But adults rule kids so why do I want to listen to anymore horror stories from kids that are influenced by adults? CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 18th, Monday/ I started my day today w/ the expectation that it was not going to be that great. I worked a basketball camp and I HATE basketball camp! I've been doing it for quite a while and it's time for me to stop. So, being that this is my swan song foe summer basketball camp I figured that I would put myself on autopilot and get it done. So I'm cruising through the day until I hit a bump. .. I met an 8 year old kid named Ky. What an imagination! We connected for some reason and my life has changed forever!/ Ky started talking to me about his life and his thoughts and I was blown away! Come to find out, Ky is a writer and an inventor. He told me some stories and made me swear that I would not repeat them so that he would not have to sue me for copywright infringement! I was blown away!/ On my way home, I started to think about Ky and then I thought of my life at his age. I was not allowed to be a kid at 8 years old. I was told that I had to "grow up" and "be a man!" I got to thinking about what I would be like, today, if I had the freedom to be a kid back in the day? I vowed that I would live out the rest of my time on this planet like Ky, even though I don't have much time left! CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 17th, Sunday/ Sunday... Ahh... Sunday is my creative day! Why? I have no idea. It seems like nothing can get me down on Sunday. Sadly, that is not the case this Sunday! / My routine started today like it starts every Sunday. I got a good night's sleep. I got up early, came downstairs and turned on the TV to watch Sunday Morning. I like that show! They hardly ever feature a story on someone Black but I kind of understand that living in America. To the powers that be in America anything Black is not cool so why bother? Anyway, I saw this piece on a French singer named Edith Piaf, who was advertised as the French Judy Garland (No, Judy Garland was not Black either!) There was nothing special about the woman by any standard except that she grew up somewhat similar to the way I grew up (poor!). But there was a statement made about her that struck a cord w/ me. "She was in love with love!" (Damn, just like Judy Garland!) Imagine that, I thought... This woman was in love with love!/ I was in love with love, once. The very idea of it, during the day, would have me dreaming about it all night! Because of it, I had a reason to live... I felt alive when it crossed my mind. To love love.../ What is it about being in love with love? Why do people do it? Is the world really that screwed up that people would even consider the possibility? Any other type of love is 10 times more lethal! Yet, being in love with love will foster the same result. Piaf died with some illness but I believe it was the notion of being in love with love that killed her. Just like it is killing me! Sure, they will say that I had some sickness that went undiagnosed and that my heart quit. Damn right it is gonna quit. It's gonna quit because being in love with love was and is a stupid endeavor. But, when you think about it, if you don't love yourself or nobody loves you, being in love with love doesn't sound so stupid after all does it? CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 16th Saturday/ What price America? The other day I went to visit some friends at my old job. As I was leaving I was stopped by a guy soliciting for Greenpeace. He ran some smack on me about saving the planet... A noble cause. As I listened, the logic of it hit me like a shot. The planet is failing and I'm a part of the planet; therefore, I am failing! I'm not a joiner but I found myself going with the flow. As he handed me the clip board to sign up, I asked him what would it take for me to become a member. It was then that he said the magic words: "Where do you work?" When I told him that I did not have a job, he snatched the clip board from me and thanked me for my time (which I have because I don't have a job). Ain't that a bitch? In America, you can't do shit without a job! Here I am thinking that I will break my policy of not being a "joiner" and become a member of an organization dedicated to saving the world... And I can't get down because I don't work! Global warming is killing the Earth because of Man's insensitive abuses and I can't help save it because I don't work. I CAN help out because I have the time because I don't work but I can't help out because I have the time because I don't work! Catch 22 my ass! CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 15th, Friday/ Watched the NBA finals and final game. What is all the buzz about LeBron James? I mean even if he was as good as advertised, no one basketball player is better than five who stick together. I don't get it... LeBron's shoes, LeBron's ficticious family (The LeBrons) LeBron drinks Sprite (or Fresca or 7Up or whatever) Lebron is the king, LeBron, LeBron, LeBron... (Is this the NBA's version of the Brady Bunch?) The kid is good but he ain't that good... yet! And, fuck that wish to become a "global icon" shit! That's media bullshit that no player should even utter from his or her lips. The only "global" LeBron felt was that warming on his ass from the broom the Spurs used to sweep him and the Cavs out of the arena in four games! It's not luck; It's know-how. The Spurs "know-how." One day Lebron might feel the warmth a championship brings./ I'm sure lebron will get over the bad feelings he might be having right now. Hell, he's probably over it already. Somehow having a lot of money and being called the "KING" trumps any bad feelings one may have about losing a game... CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 14th, Thursday/ Since I'm working on a film script I decided to start watching movies again. I stopped going to the movies because it has just turned into one big expensive venture. However, I have a partner who can get DVD's of any film out there so I go by his crib when I want to see something. What's cool about it is that it's free and I can drink beer while I watch a flick./ So, I'm watching the flick, Blood Diamond, and I'm not into it because I'm not into Leonardo DeCaprio. He may be a good actor but when I want to see a young Jack Nicolson, I'll watch some of his earlier work! As expected, I thought the premis of the film was unbelieveable. (I know, I was suppose to suspend my disbelief at the door) No way some white mercenary in Africa is going to sacrifice a big ass diamond for a brotha trying to free his son from the rebels. After the film was over, I watched the documentary DVD about what the diamond trade was all about... SHIT! My head was blown! That was some depressing shit to watch. Kids in Africa being cut up w/ machetes like raw meat, or captured to work the mines, or worse, shot point blank to death for diamonds./ That night I had the weirdest dream. I was dreaming of doing a documentary on the diamond ("bling-bling") trade, American style. You know, how brothas are maimming and killing each other for chains and earrings... The background music was Beyounce singing a revised version of "Diamonds Are a Boys and Girls Best Friend" as only she can. (I see her as the Black Anna Nicole via Marilyn Monroe!) The sad part of my dream is, that idea could probably get made, in Hollywood, just like Blood Diamond did!/ CRAP!

When Irony Rares Its Ugly Head/ by Al Brathway

Oh how the mighty have fallen! Poor Paris (I mean rich Paris) is having her troubles with the law right now. However, as painful as it might be for her, she can't see the forest for the trees. Paris is sitting on a gold mine! Instead of her doing that contrived show she does with that other lunatic, she should have a "reality show" camera following her ass around right now. Apparently she thinks she is more important than she really is. With a camera on her, she could really be important!All she is doing right now is being an annoying pain in the ass in society. If she turned the cameras on her "spoiled ass" she could become the next Lucille Ball! She IS funny when she is just being herself. All of the stupid things she says, she should be saying now. Right now she is "hot!" The crying out for her mom in court is the funny Paris. I mean she walks around... excuse me, drives around like she's some Queen of Utopia. Now we are seeing that she is none of that... and it is funny! Sure, the people around her thinks that her situation is some serious matter. (It could be worse Paris... You could be in jail for mistaken identity!) It's not so serious that she is arrogant and self serving when she does her schtick in Paris World. Now she is in the real world and she is hilarious. Turn the cameras on yourself and package it like your sex tape. You could be the queen of your own "real" reality show!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 8th, Friday/ Last night I watched the first game of the NBA Finals. It was a good game... Both teams played hard! LeBron James did not fair too well against the Spurs defense but I imagine that he will figure it out during the course of the series. Having said that, I think the Spurs will win the series because they are my team. I just don't understand why they don't get the attention they deserve?/ So, I'm sitting there, watching, and I had this eerie feeling come over me. I was starting to identify with the Spurs in some zen like fashion. It felt like there was a ghost in the room with a Spurs jersey on or something. Everytime the Spurs had the ball on offense or they did something great on defense, I felt this... this something pass by me or go through me or hover around me. At first I thought it was just a draft in the room but as time went on the feeling was more pronounced. It wasn't cold or hot... It was just... There! And it felt soooo gooood too! I felt myself getting real happy... Giddy in fact!/ So I'm watching the game and, now, I'm starting to reflect on my high school days when I played basketball. I remembered being on a predominately white team, yet I was the best freethrow shooter. Here I am, 6'3, 185lbs., playing forward, averaging 15pts. and 10 rebounds a game, taking all kinds of punishment from the opposing team's power forward... Going to the foul line and sinking foul shot after foul shot after foul shot at an 85% clip... My memory is getting more and more vivid. I'm starting to remember all kinds of things I've done that helped the team win... Then, all of a sudden, things started to go BLACK! I wasn't feeling so "giddy" anymore. Tears started to stream down my face... The game ended and the Spurs won but I wasn't feeling all that great anymore. I was having the same feelings I had when I played high school basketball. I was instrumental in winning games for the team but... I didn't feel like "the man!" And then it hit me... It was my moment of truth. I started to understand why I identified with the Spurs so much! It wasn't because they won or Tim Duncan or the coach or any of that type of shit. I liked the Spurs because, like them, I was great and hardly received any recognition too, and now I'm sitting there, watching, and being reminded about how my sorry and painful adolescent life unfolded!/ CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 7th, Thursday/ I was listening to a sports talk radio station this morning and the topic of Gary Sheffield's comments about Black players vs Latin players came up again. The commentator said that Gary's comments were very vague and that he needed to be more "specific." Whatever happened to being able to say whatever you want to say, whether it be vague or specific? I used to get that criticism levied against me all the time but I learned from the critics; although I have to admit that it is a problem for me to have to always be specific when I speak to someone... I mean, there was a time when I loved to tell someone, who pissed me off, to "kiss my ass!" Now I have to be more specific and tell someone, who has pissed me off, what part of my ass I want that person to kiss! CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 6th, Wednesday/ Today is Hump Day, as it is known in the working world. I don't work but it has it's signifigance today... I'm watching the Kathy Griffin Show and she is having a conversation w/ Whoopie Goldberg about vaginas, in general, theirs in particular. I'm like, "...When did the world change to the point where it is cool to talk about vaginas (on TV!) to anyone who will listen?" (Where is my copy of the memo? Gotta check my email saved file!) Isn't that sort of taboo, or no? I mean, women can now talk about their vaginas and get away w/ it (on TV)? So I'm listening to the conversation and they are talking about their vaginas and I haven't had sex in a looooooong while and it's Hump Day! (You do the math!) I'm sorry... I can't type anymore right now. I'm a little frustrated. CRAP!

CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 5th, Tuesday/ I was watching the E True Hollywood Story on Christina Agualierra. I had never seen anything on her so I tuned in on what was being said. I did not know she was so talented at such an early age! For such a small kid she had (has) a BIG voice. So I'm watching and the part comes up about her starting to get some buzz and BANG...the player haters come out! They're like cock roaches lurking around the kitchen at night and Christina comes in to get a glass of water. She turns on the light,(successfully get the water) and they, the cocks... turn on her! What is it w/ people? No one wants anyone to have success. Then, when someone gets it and doesn't want to be bothered w/ people who screwed over them, the cocks... get mad! What is that all about? Why do people, who are unwilling to go after what they want, playa hate people who go after what they want? I'm no different. I playa hate every major college basketball coach who is successful because I was once an (unsuccessful) basketball coach. I mean, I was great as a coach but there is more to it than just coaching games. You have to know how to manipulate your athletic director to get more money for the team. You have to know how to lie to your team to get them to play better and you have to win all of your games so as not to give others the benefit of the doubt to be able to criticize you. They say, "If you ain't cheatin', you ain't tryin'!" I didn't chea..., I mean, try hard enough! Maybe I should answer my own questions. I KNOW the answers! Okay, it's jealousy but... but why be jealous? If you had the chance to do something and quit on it, why be jealous of those who get it? Yeah, my head is messed up! Thanks E True Hollywood Story... Thanks a lot! CRAP!

THEY BEAT DEAD HORSES DON’T THEY?/ by Al Brathway

Aren’t you tired of the way they hype things now a days? Jesus! The constant repetition is a pain in the ass. Whenever a new movie comes out, BAM… That’s all the entertainment news shows talk about for days. A priest molests a child, it's all over the news for weeks... A plane flies into a building... Still hearing about it! Some kid shoots up his school… All the "copy cats" come out! Couldn’t we just hear about something when it happens and let that be the end of it? Hell, we’re still hearing about Monica Lewinsky. Is she still "kneel(ing) before the seal? Maybe there should be a statute of limitations on events. One week and done! I mean, I’m still hearing about the crap I’ve done when I was a kid at family gatherings! After I turned 40 I stopped going.
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CRAP/ My Journal by Al Brathway

June 3rd. Sunday/ Damn, it's June already? Where did the time go? That's been happening to me alot lately. I'm losing track of time. I mean, Friday, I was in Baltimore hanging w/ a fellow writer... We were kicking around ideas about future projects we have yet to tackle... Haven't even written down one note about anything, yet we plotted a course of ideas that will last for a long time... The creative process is genius unto itself! And now I am back at my desk, tinkering w/ my journal, recording the doings of the last couple of days. Friday I was hopeful. Today I feel hopeless. Why is that? If I had (real) money, I could afford a "shrink" but I wouldn't go. Hell, I'd take that money and invest in a liquor store. My therapy would be a lot cheaper and I would feel the results (effects) of my (drinking) therapy a whole lot quicker than talking to some loony toons doctor at $150.00/hr and coming out feeling more crazy than I felt going in! But, I cannot afford a doctor and, at the very least, frequent a liquor store... So where does that leave me? Slowly I spiral into the abyss of depression. I blurt out sentence fragments at inopportune times, only to have people look at me, thinking I'm talking to myself (which I am!) and silently label me crazy! And during this whole process, time is marching on and I cannot get that seemingly "crazy" moment back when I started mumbling to myself while standing in a line at (hopefully) a liquor store waiting for my liquid medication. (And judging by the stocked shelves, they have the goods for what ails me!) CRAP!