I have called the greater environs of the city of Atlanta home for over twenty years now; it is a place I love for many obscure and masochistic reasons. It holds a seemingly endless roster of musical innovators and too many legitimate cultural influencers to name here. But one of the things about Atlanta I truly value most, what makes me feel safe at home here despite the occasional tragedies life tends to offer, will probably surprise you.
I know at least one or two of you out there have been wondering why I’ve posted so infrequently this year, and why I went completely AWOL from social media. Since the truth is bound to trickle out very soon, I thought I’d break the news here, where it can be shared with the most readers. Guess what friends:
Want to hear a funny story? It’s true, too. I used to be “pro-choice”, up until not that long ago. I was pretty outspoken about it back in high school. Why do you think that was?
Pictured: The serenity to accept the things I cannot change, and the wisdom to know who should go fuck themselves.
In case you missed it, Bands I Useta Like (the comic strip, not the site you are currently reading) is over. I am forced to accept that a printed periodical outlet for the strip I have drawn for the past twenty-three years no longer exists. This is the theme of the 2020’s; forced acceptance and submission. Historically, I do well with neither.
So, in the spirit of the current times, I am accepting my own flaws and shortcomings as personal advantages, and forcing them on the rest of society and the world. As a pipe-tooting sailor once said, I am what I am.
Mark my words. As soon as it becomes feasible, the father will be erased from the family unit forever. The word and the concept will be abolished and nullified. You can bet your life savings on it happening in the next five years.
There’s an itch that rap music scratches that no other kind of music does. For this reason, I have a longstanding love-hate relationship with the genre. But the fact remains; I always come back to it. Once I realized I was listening to it alone, when there was no one around to impress, I figured I enjoyed the form enough to jabber about it sincerely.
I owe you good folks an apology, I really do. This is gonna take some serious swallowing of pride, but I have to admit where I was mistaken. Here goes nothing.
Even if I don’t see the ones who’ve hurt me ever again in reality, I still see them in dreams. That’s how I know I’m truly in the right. My subconscious mind proves irrefutably that I was the victim and they were the abusers. I bear no buried guilt.
You must be logged in to post a comment.