I woke in my car around 7:30, on a street i was not familiar, and i can say i was in a mood that was less than pleasant. But i was to get my hair cut this day, you know to knock the homeless look off of me. To explain what’s about to happen, when i first moved here, i started doing lyft, which quite honestly i fucking hated, but i met some cool people so that was dope, I met an artist by the name of Buckley who shared a book with me and told me of Mexico City, i met a lady from China who was attending UCLA that invited me to her presentation on the Qin, i learned a lot that day, and I wrote down a quote to this day i still use i bet you want to know the Quote, i may or may not give in. But i met this fellow who told me he was a barber, we proceeded to chop it up, and he told me of the grind. I got his number, cause i knew my black ass would soon be looking like i belonged in the woods, which i must say is kinda true.
The first time i went to get my hair cut by him, i had to drive to south central, and he pulled a stool out on his porch and had the setup, i sat there as he made me look like a respectable human being, it was dope. I had never had an experience of that nature, i was use to being in a barber shop, niggas talking shit about shit, or my old barber’s wife cracking mad jokes about life. I remember once Mrs. Corey did about 30 minutes on bad kids… The shit was funny as i was sitting there in the chair trying not to move from laughter, it was like she was saying “yeah, i got this shit” then mic drop… but i was on a porch in south central la watching a pit take a shit in the yard across the street. DOPE, The Second time, well let’s just say if you’re bitchmade or smart, you probably wouldn’t venture to this place but i did, his exact directions were “wait in your car till i get there” i must’ve just glossed over that in the text cause i called him when i was standing outside of the address, this spot, well it was a little more hood(if you will) and i was just chillin on the fence like i owned the fucking street, and there were three niggas chillin in the driveway next to me, one of whom was in a G-35 and the other two (skinny niggas) were leaning against it. As i sat there playing chess with friends and checking the surroundings every few minutes one of the skinny niggas walked by me and i could tell he was sizing me up, he had a wild look in his eye, a look of rage, a look i know well. If felt as if the alpha of the pack sent him to test me, but i could give a fuck, i sat there and said “what’s up” and went back to my phone. Marcus, the barber pulled up a few minutes later and he was like “nigga i told you to wait in your car” to which i was like “oh...okay” but that was the second time. This last time, we met back up on that familiar porch and again, the set up was…. Set up. And he proceeded to trim the beard as a skinny nigga sauntered out of the house and sat down in a lawn chair and proceeded to talk about how high he had gotten last night, it was funny shit, then the conversation morphed to him talking about cops just waiting to fuck him up for no reason… it was funny, cause it wasn’t funny! You had to have been there, but after all that talk her proceeded to ask for another blunt as if the night before didn’t happen, Entertaining it was… little did i know that police shit would come back up for me later that day.
I ventured down to the Watts Towers it was now about 10:30 or 11 am some time around then, and upon arrival(proper as fuck huh?) I learned that it was the 36th Watts Drum Festival, i had no clue it was going on, my gut just said go there and explore. So i did, i sat by a small drum circle and started drawing and a lady and her child came up and looked the child couldn’t take his eyes off of what was on the canvas, as if he knew, he has been there… if he could formulate the words of what each line was saying. I enjoyed how intently this little fuck stared at it. Decoding it, before the “rules of society” become a burden, a free mind. I put up my canvas changed my shirt grabbed some agua and came back to the festival, i watched some type of Polynesian Warrior dance, it was interesting, put an idea in my head for travel. To leave this land known as “America” i met an artist by the name of Charles who shared the process of making a bronze sculpture, and after that i had perhaps the most interesting conversation that i have had in a long while with an lady by the name of Sheila, we spoke of the nature of things. It was time to head back to downtown so i could paint but along the way… cops happened…
I have been listening to the audiobook The New Jim Crow, some of the shit i had known, but other shit… nope! And when this little encounter with the cops happened i was like oh i know this, This is from chapter blah. There were three cops, one stayed in his backseat with the door propped open for what i assumed “just incase we have a rowdy nigger on our hands” and the other two were on either side… let’s go back, i was about to pull over for a 15 minute nap, for i do not drive when i am tired, but he said i didn’t use my signal when getting over and i was like “oh… okay nigga, i know this game” and he proceeded to tell me to go stand on the sidewalk and interlace my fingers behind my head as the patted me down which was unneeded, i was wearing tight ass jeans that irritate me at times and no shirt, cause the weather is nice... nigga where am i hiding shit but i kept it chill, and half way through their procedures he asked if he could grab the wallet off my seat and i was like uh… and he said well you’re on probation we can i suppose do what we want.. Oh don’t get pulled over in Yosemite National Park with mushrooms in sight, i mean i don’t think of them as a drug cause it’s a fucking mushroom! But he grabbed my wallet and they proceeded to write down all my information, and i started talking “i’ve been reading up on the law, a lot of people don’t know their rights.” and the cop replied “well it’s mostly misunderstandings with the law.” to which i thought… “whatever ever nigga.” as this conversation continued i glanced over at his cohorts the one in the sunglasses was peaking in my car trying to see something but all he could see was paintings, paint and a camera or two… bet that shit ruffled his jimmies. And the cop was like what do you do, i said I’m a comedian or an artist, and his tune changed a little bit he, then asked where i last performed and i told him Petie’s place in the valley. I should pulled out the laundry list of mics, but i kept it simple, then these mother fuckers packed up and vanished into the daylight, probably to go pull over another fellow that “fit the description.” I just was like, well that happened. I could’ve had an encounter like the skinny nigga from earlier.
I parked my car and stopped by my usual coffee spot, spoke with another artist about just doing shit, then off to the gym to clear my mental. Once at the gym, i got a message from my friend NoFire who i went to Death Valley with and it read “ Having a BBQ tonight at 1800” any chance to escape LA I will… well for the most part, i’m starting to Love This place. I started the day in the “Hood” and ended it in the High Desert drinking with Marines, a doctor, a fellow who brewed his own beer which was the FUCKING SHIT! Oh and i forgot to add Brisket. The high desert was a sweet escape to get out of the energy of la and look up and see the stars and to enjoy the quite… And from just going to the BBQ i decided to change shit in my life stay tune.