Prison Scholars And The Asylum Rule Of Cum

A really interesting thing occurred to me today, I learned something new about my Self. Maybe I’m lying, and possibly I’ve known this for much longer than I wish to admit. But, in keeping with the mood I’ve just set, let’s say I found out that I’d rather lose at this thing called “society”(“life” and “society” are two different things;I don’t believe that one can ‘lose’ in “life”), by following my own researched or developed methods, than to win following the dictates of another. I know, either I am a very egotistical person with masochistic tendencies, or just a zip damn fool. Either way, the choice remains with me. And thus the locus of control.

While I was incarcerated, I worked with several organizations comprised of men. What I learned in those situations was that I really dislike officious people. Especially of the hard leg variety. I can handle a woman being nosey;at least we can fuck when the tension created by the annoyance of you asking questions you know damn well I’m going to give you a gift wrapped lie as an answer swells. With nigga, ain’t much I can do in the way of tactful politics. And frankly, I’m tired of playing politics with grown ass men that should be able to take a fucking hint and know when their welcome has been stamped with a bold red “OVERSTAYED.”

Are there times when I believe that a person’s advice should be embraced? Sure. But, only when I seek it out. What I’ve learned being around a bunch of dudes is that some niggaz can’t stay focused. You ask them about avoiding a trip to the county jail for a year, and they’ll start talking about how you should put a down payment on a house like they just did. Something about ego and the need to control the flow of the conversation. And some niggaz just HAVE to be in your business. Not only do they not have any practical(read: useful) information to share regarding a specific concern, they will also do intel on you and get upset when you don’t open up to them about situations that they know they don’t make others privy to.

In prison, I met guys that would argue with you about topics of which they had no prior study. This wasn’t done so much because they were argumentative, per se, no, it was done to siphon information about the topic from someone they believed had done their research. You also had the type that just always had to have the best answer for everything. This nigga here just couldn’t be wrong. No matter where you got your information from, he had a better resource. If you thought his ideas were out-dated, it was you were young and inexperienced. If you thought his ideas were immature, it was because you were lame and out of the loop.

I figured out the hard way that a nigga’s most cherished possession is an ego buttressed by the short-comings of another person. That’s where the competitive edge of most of today’s niggaz come from. And don’t think for a second that when I write “nigga,” I am limiting that to Black males born in the USA and raised in urban environments. See, that’s that nigga ego at work. Just as many people born on the continent of Afrika deserve the label nigga as those that use it most profusely. Just as many people that identify them Selves within the class ranks economically situated above the poor deserve the label “nigga,”(and “ghetto” I might add) as those they claim to have so much disdain for. Personally, I might dislike you uppity niggaz more than the overly aggressive niggaz I deal with in poverty. At least I know why this nigga stays in my business, I’m afraid you bourgeoisie niggaz might be working to figure out ways to help some white controlled corporation exploit my style.

I am slightly joking here. But only slightly. I don’t like being around a lot of men. Not just Black men, either. Black, white, purple or puce…all you niggaz gets on my damn nerves soon or later. Some one will say Self-hate. I’ll say that’s why your mama swallows my children like a cannibalistic pedophile. Naw, that’s me being juvenile. I’ll say that I don’t want to be around my reflection that long. That is narcissistic. It has nothing to do with hate. Self or otherwise. I don’t need to be bombarded with the mental radio waves of other kings while I’m building my own kingdom. The Sun is situated at a distance from other stars for a reason. My shine doesn’t need any more company other than that which reflects it. Furthermore, I get tired of having my creative gas tank siphoned from. I shared my food and sleeping quarters with drug addicts, prisoners, and the homeless. I don’t anybody on this planet shit. Well, one person…but that’s another post. The obligations you believe you owe to the competitive and prideful will never be fully paid or thoroughly considered. In fact, every time you do something worthy of their appreciation, it will only be thrown in your face as something that they inspired you to do. I don’t feel that is a debt I ought to be investing my ideas into as an effort to pay off.

People have made their friendships and associations a religion of sorts. In the Mosque, I once heard a brother say that you can come as you are, but you can’t stay that way. And that is how many people approach their social lives. I’m cool, and it is alright for me to be Owl/Jay/Whatever-the-fuck-my-grown-ass-feels-like-calling-my-Self-and-for-whatever-reasons in the beginning, but soon I am being judged and dictated to. Or even worse…suggested to. I hate that “suggestion” syht because it simply doesn’t work at a certain age! Some niggaz act like they wrote the book on subtle, or that no one else has every attempting to influence the behaviors of another person indirectly. I do respect that my feelings have been taken into account, but don’t try to influence me to do nothing I haven’t asked you to. In fact, fuck that, the rule in Asylum is bread or head. Advice I can google on my own. Money I can’t. Donate, or buy a book. Or have me design or develop a site for you. Or suck my dick. No literally, like, put my cock between your lips and add hefty amounts of saliva to it. If you are a guy, pay a prostitute to do it, or call one of your more easily swayed girlfriends to do it. You’re a go-getter, right…go get her…