Salt in the Womb

It is funny cause it’s true is funny cause it’s true! “Gross out” “Toilet” “Shock” Humor seems like an armature move but it actually requires advanced comedy technique to pull off.

I am that one next door’s distant cousin, related by marriage to them Samaritans across the way, who hang with the folk in the other ‘other’ town. Under the dome according to King, Stephen. Escapades of the Yaya Sisterhood with them Travelin’ Pants envying the Javelin of Magellen.

My biggest affliction? Men are not considered adults until we bear sons. Until fatherhood. So, a 9 year old can be an adult if he plants his seed? A woman K through 9 is considered an adult according to their prudence. Not to come off as a culture vulture. I want to be a grown ass man. To be an adult male. Perhaps my propensity to kid makes me feel as if I will never be a grown-up? As if. What else wets my kitten kadooble? Inserts the curl in my Ramen noodle? Why is it that the fortitude of the masses is incumbent upon how much hot water we can soak? Do we live in a parallel universe as the almighty tea bag? No not the prank nor sexual act.  Obama was onto something … What is the audacity of Hope? The closest distance between our soul & another human soul are the 7 muses: Grace, Dawn, June, Faith,  May, June, Amber & Tiff. The irony – the kick – is this is also the title of my initial memoir commenced in August of ’01. I was 19 taking a Gotham Writing Workshop.

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