Corona Me Alone

my-buddy-chucky

I’m not sure why I woke up with TLC’s “Baby-Baby-Baby” on my mind, but something told me it was to be blasted at ignorant levels at some point today. 

Shortly after brushing my teeth and getting the boulders of cold out of eyes — damn allegeries  — I followed that spirit and sang my heart out like it was 1992. Fortunately, that wouldn’t be the only musical moment of my morning, but more that later. 

Have we reached the point where it’s acceptable to scream? The last two months have built up so much frustration and uneasiness that the only tonic is to unleash the loudest primal scream I can muster.

At the onset, I didn’t realize the mental and emotional toll this would take — all my focus was on the physical, and if I would “catch” the virus.  Now, I’m more concerned about my mental and emotional state than I am of becoming the latest COVID-19 patient, which is wild because I’m scared shitless at the possibility. It’s a mess. This entire thing is a mess. I don’t think there’s enough words in the English language to properly describe my range of emotions right now. Just know I’ve spent many days and nights saying “WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!” Internally and out loud. 

It doesn’t help that the people we’re suppose to look to for help are just as lost. Ignorance trumps everything these days, so here we are. Oh, wait. I almost forgot. To the people protesting extended stay-at-home orders, marching on state Capitols across the country with rifles and other weapons, FUCK YOU! I mean that from the depths of my soul. If ignorance is bliss, you bastards are luxuriating  in it. Comparing stay-at-home orders in a pandemic to slavery — as in chattel slavery — and then to have a government advisor compare the protesters to Rosa Parks, man, FUCK YOU!  Just had to get off my chest. 

It’s been well over a month since I turned on my computer in an attempt to be creative. It’s hard to give from an empty cup. Word to Iyanla Vanzant. I shared with someone the other day that the combination of music, prayer, porn, Harry Potter, and Leslie Jordan’s IG videos have kept me afloat lately. Throw 2K20 in there for good measure. 

Music is a constant. The production value of my shower concerts have been upped — suds from soap and shampoo are no longer ignored but are now elements in the show. You’re welcome. I’ve moved on from being just a vocalist and have transformed into being a performer. KNOW ME.

My prayer quota has increased, but the requests are largely unchanged. Guidance, safety for myself, family and friends, and a “thanks” at the start of each day. Simple.

When it comes to porn, lets just say no one can love me like I can. However, baby, when this over — RELEASE THE HOUNDS!!! There will be several consensual conversations that will be had. And that’s the that on that! BOOM! Moving along. [Please note that I am HOWLING as I type this, but I’m also so damn serious. *insert hands up emoji*]

If you know me, you know I am a Harry Potter fanatic. The books, the films, the fantasy, all of it — I live!  Shout out to my 6th grade teacher Mrs. White for introducing me, well my entire class, to “The Boy Who Lived”. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read the books, watched the films, or engaged the series in any way, so it makes sense (or at least to me it does) to revisit the Wizarding World of The Chosen One during a pandemic. Try it, you may like it. 

Well, shit. Leslie Jordan’s Instagram is bright spot in a usually gloomy sky. The man is no taller than an 8-year-old, but he’s more entertaining than just about anything currently on TV. It’s no surprise that he’s gone from a couple hundred thousand to 3.6 million followers in the matter of a week or two. We stan this national treasure. 

Since genetics and gravity conspired against me and made playing basketball not part of my ministry, I’ve had to live out my hoop fantasy on NBA 2K20. My created character, who looks NOTHING like me, leads the “Austin Stunners” (my created team) in scoring. He’s a 20-year-old rookie out of Temple. (Mansfield wasn’t available so I kept it local.) 

As Drake’s “Talk Up,” featuring JAY-Z, one of the few highlights of Scorpion, blares out my aging wireless speaker, it dawned on me that this had no purpose other than it being the first time I’ve opened my computer in weeks.

I worked my ass off to buy a coveted MacBook, and this puppy has collected more dust than the clippers I bought when I thought I was going to cut my own hair. Speaking of haircuts or lack thereof, my beard will finally connect when all this over. My days as Patch Adams are coming to an end, so I guess COVID-19 gets credit for that. *insert extended eye roll* 

We’’ll talk more later. 

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