Serendipity is a motherfucker. And so is my cellphone. I thought I'd locked my keypad but instead my thigh and random buttons dialed a number of folks, most notably my main boy Marcus. Marc is the only person from the old neighborhood that I still stay in touch with, the only constantly breathing connection to a certain place in time I am both fond of and still fear. Though we don't talk all the time the dynamic between us is still the same. He's the laid-back one. I'm high-strung and nervous. This, along with the many other characters in the comedic-drama of our childhood made for some interesting stories, some of which I wrote down in the form of fiction, others that are exchanged between us. Though we're from two different sides of Suitland Road that line blurred far more often than it remained solid. And when Butchie answered the call of the streets I found myself crossing the line. But I digress.
It only takes a few minutes for us to go all old school as I tell him that my most recent screenplay was inspired by the short story that I wrote that was based on a bizarre night we all had while I was driving my mother's car. A mirror got broken. We got chased out of an old folks barbecue. Some girls told us to come over but when they got there we weren't home. A comedy of errors. But in discussing this names are dropped, folks who aren't in circulation anymore. Bill, a dude so psychotic that he once broke out laughing in the middle of a fight with some dude, is doing a stretch for assault and domestic abuse. The years are winding down on Rick's bid for murder. And Dante, who I somehow managed to forget murdered an elderly woman and buried her in a yard. We used to play football with him.
This dovetails into a conversation about the current generation and who had it worse.
Sure, the crack era is over but systematic racism, a shit economy and a hood more ignorant than ever make that a toss-up. I can't believe I've almost been up here ten years now.
Another longtime homegirl of mine is up from Florida visiting her sister. Recently divorced she's attempt to residscover the world of dating. Over the dinner I made the little and sis and I explained that dating is generally a miserable experience, even up here in the Rotten Apple. The right people miss each other and end up settling for will get them by as opposed to what truly makes them happy. And that sucks too.
But those of us who get to have these conversations are the blessed ones. Even if we're in the trenches we still know about the world beyond the particular wars we end up fighting. It's no different than remember those nights that the crew and I sat in dorm rooms, sketching out our plot for world domination, all of us making our mark in our respective fields. We didn't miss (well, most of us didn't) but we had no idea of what we were getting ourselves into.
I was talking to D the other night about some of the places I have been and some of the cool memories I have with celebrities and directors and other folks of public note. He said that it had to be frustrating for me to be so close to the life I want and not be there. It was feeling he could sympathize with. But he felt like he had so much further to go. I told him that we all do. And I meant it. Out.
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