A few years back when I was still several steps above being a sperm (read: 16) my hometown, the humble abode of Detroit turned 300 years old. Before this fact I was blissfully unaware of birthday's for inanimate objects or entities. This is not the case today. I am contemplating a birthday party for a friend's Volvo as soon as i befriend someone with a Volvo. I was friends with a Volvo driver once but they REALLY didn't deserve it.
This Detroit birthday was significant because it marked the city's survival of race riots, Piston championships, and the exodus of Gordy's Empire. Such a celebration of survival and MidWestern Urban Grit warranted something special. A big cake could have been in order. Instead, the city of Detroit had tall ships come sailing down the river to commemorate it's birth. One of these ships had a Pirate Flag on it. This was the sorriest excuse for a celebration I have ever seen in my entire life. At the very least I would hope that the city held an Erase Riot, though I have no idea what that entails.
These boats seemed so misguided, oblivious to every want and whim of the City folk that a part of me immediately died. From that moment on I was no longer willing to buy in to being sold. I wasn't even willing to buy into what was being given away for free. Of course this would have been different if I had made Stevie Wonder's free concert. This is biased too, at that juncture Stevie Wonder stood for everything right with the world. I spent a bit too much time thinking about blind people when i was young.
What does the City of Detroit have to do with us? This twisted path is marked with milestones, chance encounters, and debacles that shape and service the way we go. I've had my share of bumps and trophies and I try to ignore every one.
The thought process of "I did this, I am now a better person, what does this person consist of?" leads to things like the tall Ships of Detroit. If I mark occasions they will have nothing to do with me. They'll probably be for my Mom and I could very well end up looking all rasta. With that being said the Victory Cigar is officially retired. This isn't to say that the Human Victory Cigar is retired. I wish him the best of luck in Memphis.
From this point on I will masquerade of a dress maker. I will fill my room with mannequins clad in exquisite dresses. When I get a girl, or two girls, I will tell them that I am a dress maker. After they love me (which they will), I will produce my first dress for the apple of my eye. The dress will be an ensemble so atrocious and hideous that I'll put it on a crucifix and no one will notice. The girl will put on the dress and wear it with pride. I don't need Tall Ships to tell me who I am.
15 dump trucks full of dirt are coming in my vacant lot tomorrow to make the world a better place and officially make me a felon. I seriously doubt I will be brought up on charges until my section of the world I don't own is filled with turtles.
There's a lot I deplore and love in the same things. There's a part of me that appreciates the tall ships. There's a part of me that wishes Tyler Perry could win an Oscar. There's a part of me that has poor penmanship. Hatred doesn't come from disgust for me. It comes from something missing the mark.
Today I bought stuffing at the grocery store. Next time I feel but a dollop of depression I will eat it alone in my underwear will watching Frank TV on TBS. We Know Funny. If you've got it, flaunt it.
Sail on, you tall stupid bastards.
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