for your story about wearing your hoodie at the airport.. i don't get why you feel you're legitimatizing yourself when "her daughter loves you". Why not boast about making money & successful in America? why do a lot of black men feel inadequate or unworthy until they're loved by a white woman? i don't get how that's your conclusion from the whole story? sounds insecure

Asked by Anonymous

Boy, would I love to throw some hot grease on you.


this needs a few thousand notes

The Water Bottle…

By dotropolis on Tuesday, January 21st, 2014

…and the strangers.

Kaytranada performed in Chicago at The Mid, a medium sized club downtown, and I found a nice spot in the crowd where I could see him and enjoy my beer. It was close to the VIP section but close enough to the bar in case I needed a refill. Midway through the second song, a mentally handicapped man wearing blue jeans and a leather jacket walked up to me and shook my hand. Three white kids were standing a little to my left and I noticed them laughing. Almost cheering him on, I thought. I mouthed the words, “Are y’all together?” Because they were laughing as if this man was their friend. But as they got closer, I realized they were laughing at him. “Dude, that guy has been fucking with people since we got here! Dancing and grabbing on our clothes and shit.” The man wasn’t bothering me and I ain’t with laughing at handicapped people so I kinda eased my way away from them.

Soon after, an Israeli man, who looked around my age, stood next to me and said, “Hey man, who is this performing?” "It’s Kaytranada." We somehow started talking about neighborhoods in north Chicago and how expensive it is to live downtown. The conversation wasn’t long though because his whole point of talking to me was to sell me molly. But before I could even answer, an asian girl that was dancing by herself in front of us, spun around, leaped into the air, and landed on his foot. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Your foot is important!” There’s a video on my phone of Kaytranada’s set and you can hear this whole exchange. How she’s apologetic but drunk. He’s nonchalant and flirtacious. She starts giggling and flirts back. That awkward moment when they run out of things to say for a quick second and they try to decide if they want to take things further. You can’t see them but the microphone recorded everything loud and clear. He switched his focus to her and left me alone. A few minutes later, as I’m trying to send this video to my friend, I noticed a girl with big, curly light brown hair stand next to me. She looked like a college freshman if I had to guess. Everybody that stood next to me that night said something. This girl didn’t. In fact, she waited for about 60 seconds and because I didn’t jump down her throat with pickup lines, she went into the crowd and found somebody to dance with. I finished my beers and left after he was done spinning but I made the mistake of not going to the bathroom first. Not even halfway home, I’m stomping on the floor of my car and bouncing my leg up and down uncontrollably. I’m also on the phone as I’m driving. My friend says, “Pull over and piss on the side of the road.” But I didn’t want to get harassed by police that night if they happened to drive by. “Do you have a water bottle? Use that.” So I pulled over on the expressway and found an empty water bottle in my backseat. I decided sometime last year that if I write a book, it wouldn’t be a memoir or a non-fiction novel. It would be a collection of short stories, similar to how I run this blog. If I ever write that book, I’ll explain what happened exactly. But anyway, there’s a quote floating around that says you don’t really know how intoxicated you are until you try to urinate.

I couldn’t agree more.


Life Advice from Killer Mike via Adult Swim

“I came to realize that we don’t raise boys to be men, we raise them not to be women.”

Don McPherson, former NFL quarterback, feminist, educator (via beeewalsh)

he speaks the truth

(via sourcedumal)

(Source: spikyhairjon, via verosays)


keep this in mind come oscar time

Free Spirits…

By dotropolis on Tuesday, January 14th, 2014

…and second chances.

The last full weekend I spent with her wasn’t that great. Something was telling me I should’ve been elsewhere but I forced myself to see her anyway and spend the weekend downtown. When I saw her in a black and white dress the first night, I gave her a halfway hug and I didn’t want the hug to last too long. It wasn’t her. It was me. But I didn’t know why the urge to be away from her was so strong when we’ve been on the same page since we met. A lot of my interactions with her felt forced. I promise, it wasn’t her. Maybe my mind was on work or my mother being sick still or music or the future or how much money I could’ve saved if we didn’t spend it on a hotel or stressing about if she was truly interested in me or not. I don’t know.

A month later she kissed somebody else. The night she did it I was making her a personal Christmas present. This happened the week of Thanksgiving, two days after I stood in the Black Friday line, twice, for the PS4. I wanted to end whatever we had going on between us. I didn’t need to think about it. But my cousin reminded me of how happy I was when I first met her and how much we complimented each other. She said she never heard me be excited about anybody like that and she deserved a second chance. My other friend echoed the same thing. “You know…she could’ve just lied about it and not told you at all.” She didn’t cheat because we wasn’t together. It was still the same feeling though. Like somebody stabbed me in the stomach with a knife and dragged it further and further down the more I thought about it and the more she described what happened. A sharp, twisting pain that I can’t stand and that I feel anytime we talk about it. Before this, we was thinking about possibly planning a future together. But all I’m trying to do now is forgive her. It’s hard because she’s a free spirit. Free spirits are attractive and they’re attracted to moments. And I have a fear I guess of being a moment. So that makes me a little detached on one hand. On the other hand, another part of me wants to cling on to her. Not to drag down her spirit but almost, with my actions, say, “Our spirits work well together. Fly next to mines for a while. I know I sound like an idiot and I know you like being spontaneous but believe in me. You won’t regret it. Trust me.” However, I can’t tell her to trust me when I can’t even trust her, right? I told her on the phone last night that I need to double check and triple check that I want to move forward with her. She didn’t say anything. Just the occasional loud sigh into my ear. Then today I asked her a question regarding our future and she said “If I didn’t think about the future, I wouldn’t be here.” Free spirits don’t think about the future, do they? Maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe I don’t even know her.

That could be our problem.


stilljiiggy dancing at a red light when I was following him to a party

*please don’t remove credit*

“We celebrate small victories. When you’re accustomed to wealth, you don’t show it, right? That’s why the white kids in school could wear bummy sneakers; it’s almost like, Don’t show wealth—that’s crass. But the other way around, for us, we were broke, and we wanted to pretend we weren’t.”




My Future Beard…

By dotropolis on Sunday, December 22nd, 2013

…and fading.

After I used the bathroom, I caught myself staring in the mirror longer than usual because I noticed that I lost another section of hair. It seems like it’s starting to happen every single day now with stress being the main reason why it’s happening at a faster pace. That and age I guess. I’m not balding. Not yet. It’s more like my hair is fading away very slowly. First, the left corner of my hair started fading. And after years and months of remaining intact, the right side is doing the same thing.

Most of my friends that’s older than me decided to run from fading and balding and just cut off their hair altogether. My head is too odd of a shape to do that so I’ma ride it out. It’s really just me being sensitive about my hair loss but I accepted it was gon’ happen already. Even though some days I obsess over it more than I should. When it truly gets bad, I’ma grow my beard out completely.

Or I might just do it early.