00:02
Everybody’s Famous in LA.
00:07
Which reminds me that I just bought fancy sheets
00:10
for the first time in my adult life,
00:12
which means I’m fancy too now.
00:15
Which is not what my three-year-old nephew would say,
00:18
but absolutely how I felt when he said,
00:20
“Titi, you’re my best friend, right?”
00:23
And it’s like that.
00:24
The first time I wore a black suit
00:26
that hugged my shoulders and not my hips,
00:29
the sidewalk lit up in a constellation of days-old gum,
00:32
which is so New York.
00:34
So I slow-danced along the spectacle of Ninth Avenue
00:38
and remembered that I have jumped on more than one occasion
00:41
at the sight of my own decadence.
00:44
Until a vecina, who knew me
00:46
back when I rocked the bangs and an awkward long ponytail,
00:49
asked what I’m up to these days.
00:50
And I couldn’t tell her the truth,
00:52
so I said, “I write poems,”
00:54
instead of, “My therapist asked if I know what PTSD is.”
00:58
The best front-row seats I have are the ones to my own funeral,
01:02
which feels weird to say
01:03
because I dream I died and no one showed up–
01:06
nobody, except maybe for Stan,
01:09
yes, Stan, who fixed my flat tire with a hot patch this morning
01:13
and called himself “King.”
01:15
The world is full of VIPs who make minimum wage.
01:19
I hope I’m still fancy, though I’m not convinced.
01:22
Here I am, sitting outside the In-N-Out,
01:25
wanting to high-five the weather that pours out of me,
01:28
but I don’t know how.
01:29
The only time I won anything was the Spring of ’96.
01:34
Remember Lucky?
01:35
He bet five dollars that you could beat
01:37
all the sticky-fingered boys in a game of 21.
01:39
And when you won, you ran home with the ball under your arm
01:43
like it was a winning lottery ticket,
01:45
and your mother said, “You better not dribble in the house.
01:47
And don’t you dare touch the walls with your dirty fingers.”
01:50
Legendary.
01:51
Or the time you waited two hours outside the Reebok
01:53
to take a picture with Magic Johnson when you were nine.
01:56
He slapped your hand.
01:57
You wrapped it in plastic that night
01:59
’cause it was gonna be worth bazillions one day.
02:02
Your mother ripped it off because saran wrap is expensive,
02:05
and food stamps don’t pay for regular people shit.
02:08
When you’re older, she reminds you that her house isn’t a hotel,
02:12
so you better stay a little while longer, coño.
02:14
And, speaking of hotels… and speaking of hotels,
02:18
I’m at a fancy– no, really– five-star hotel,
02:21
lounging on Egyptian cotton sheets when the wireless network says,
02:25
“There has been an error processing your request.”
02:29
And I remember she did not break my heart.
02:32
I escaped that violence.
02:34
But this is how death makes a name for itself.
02:37
What did not kill me only made me want to die a little less.
02:41
And I’m trying to stay alive here.
02:44
I’m trying to change my life. Where do I sign up?
02:46
I’m trying to find the courage to say, “No, you can’t come in.
02:50
I poke holes through the night. Baby, I’m a star.”
02:55
(cheers and applause)
◊♦◊
Have you read the original anthology that was the catalyst for The Good Men Project? Buy here: The Good Men Project: Real Stories from the Front Lines of Modern Manhood
◊♦◊
Talk to you soon.
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