Saturday, June 20, 2009

I Tried To Be Nice... (Blind Item)

There was a nice blog that I was trying to write, but I've labored over it for three days because I felt like I wasn't saying what I really needed to say. Sometimes things just get stuck in my damn head like a mental logjam, and until I let go of the first thing, nothing else of any real use is going to get through... so I'm just gonna go freestyle on this shit and try not to hurt too many feelings on the way to what I gotta say.

But dammit, sometimes the Truth Just Stings Like A Bitch.

Let me tell a quick story about how I ended up in New York...

I was in the county lock-up, and I met a dude from Bradenton. White guy, but was obviously a Hood cat. Not the kind that's trying too hard, the ones that have grown up in a predominately Black neighborhood. He was keeping to himself (what you do when you're from out-of-town and you end up in jail), so I asked him if he needed a book, or if he wanted to bust some spades, whatever. Anyway, we started talking music, I found out he was an artist. He was on his way to NY by Greyhound and ran into a problem in the Duval terminal (they ran his name and found a warrant in Bradenton, so they have to hold him until they find out what it is...), got arrested. He was working on a development deal from Epic and needed to get out of jail or risk losing his deal. Problem is, you can't bond out in Duval if you don't have a Duval County address. I was like "Wow. Totally coincidental that I ended up in a dorm with a dude that does music. Maybe I was put here to help this guy? I think I am. Win or lose, I'm going to be his blessing." I told him that I would see if I could bond him out once I got out. I knew I was going right in and right out. Once I got back to the Zone, I had Locc and Tza, once I explained the situation and the reasons, they would have my back (and they did).

Me and this dude really got to know one another in a short period of time, but I could see that while he liked me, he didn't know if he could trust me. When I said I would help, he looked me straight in the eye and said, "Man, are you serious? You're really gonna help me?"

I said, "Hell yeah. I know what you're saying... and I'ma be dead ass with ya. This ain't no jailhouse promise."

That man asked that question 1) because he really wanted to believe me and 2) so I would acknowledge the fact that we both knew:

A jailhouse promise ain't worth a motherfucker.

People will tell you all kinds of shit when you're in lockup. Dudes become kingpins when they got pulled over with a dime-sack of weed and a gram of blow in the center console. They know every hard-rock, dread, killaz, goons, etc. when we know they might stay up the street from them dudes but ain't said "boo" to then no way, no how. And if someone tells you they are going to do something for you, it's usually to get something off your tray or get a hit off your rip, or some of your commisary... but I didn't ask him for anything. Truth is, I didn't want anything. I did what I did with the full knowledge that he could walk away. But I think that's why he wanted to believe me, because I stuck my neck out first.

The JailHouse is a Pool Of Lies. You are treading water in lies. It's hard to find one grain of truth in there, but he was lucky enough to come across somebody who threw out a lifesaver. That's how I live... I do what I can, when I can. But he really had no reason to believe me, and to be honest, I'm the rare occurence. If somebody makes you a promise in jail, accept it as a lie first.

This really isn't an indictment of people who get arrested. Jail is a funny place. It's most certainly created to fuck with your head, and that's exactly what it does. You will say anything to get through that experience, and you will tell people exactly what they want to hear when you are there. This is where your character comes into play.

There's a tendency to feel sorry for oneself when you go to jail, and you reach out to those who you hope will not forget about you. In the system, you feel the disconnection. So you say a bunch of things. Whether you have any intention of following through with those things is totally up to you. Are you really learning a lesson where you are, or will this just be another rung on the ladder of your descent to your personal Hell? Are you really going to find the lesson in the experience?

Doing the right thing is as simple as making the decision to do so. Happens in a moment. You know if you're full of shit. You know when you're talking to someone who's full of shit. There's a light that goes off, your internal 'Bullshit-Detector'. Just listen to it.

In the words of Goodie MOb, "You don't wanna hear the truth, so I'ma lie to ya', make it sound fly to ya'." Lies feel good like sex. The truth comes hard like medicine. Lies slide down your throat like alcohol. The truth sticks in the back of your throat like you swallowed a cactus and cut all the way to your stomach. Stop swallowing that lie. You know it well. Let it go.

So if you got somebody that you know is lying to you, just stop listening until they start talking some truth. You'll know it just like you know the lies. It might not be what you expect. They may start saying some pretty mean shit. That's the truth. That's how they really feel. Take it. Accept it. And move the fuck on.

And stop hating on motherfuckers who been telling you the truth. Like I said, you know it when you read it.

Like the person that's reading this now saying, "Is he talking to me?" Yes. I am. I ain't even gotta say no names. That's the thing about the Truth. When you spit it, it sticks where it needs and applies.

So what do you want to do? Take the Red Pill To see how far the rabbit-hole goes, or take that Blue Pill and go back to sleep?

And I am exactly what I appear to be... the Keep-It-Real-Redpill-Souljah-Out-Of-Zion. Who the fuck are you?

-ere'bodee's favorite mega

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