The revolution will be televised.

ACT I
The tattered champion watched his shadow sprawl on the cityscape
leather rotated while gently pulling against the tips of his fingers-
the ball, mere extension of his yearn to grow, convinced passers-by
lay down your palms, take a seat in empty air, chest out, you know the drill
prepare to be amazed, THE REVOLUTION WILL BE TELEVISED

The swagger laden champ curls his upper lip,
He ain't havin' this trash on his pavement, his sanctuary
Fibers of muscle flex, his first step is a red herring-
Fam swore they heard soulful jazz as his footwork unfolded on the floor,
you hesitate, a flinch of your base, the sweat flows down to your brow

THE REVOLUTION WILL BE TELEVISED
There will be a jab step, one quick cross and two steps to the rack.
There will be ovations from fans unseen
There will be nods of assent all around.
There will be a chant hurled into your ears-

THE REVOLUTION WILL BE TELEVISED.
You have been weighed, measured, and found wanting.
To the victor goes the spoils- two points.
THE REVOLUTION WILL BE TELEVISED

INTERMISSION
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you- life. I was born September 26, 1989 into a world fresh from the cold war, into the new shit. No parents to speak of, just a nametag in the plastic bassinet, and an adoption agency vouchin' for my potential as a toddler. A married couple, Harold and Denise signed me to a long term contract. League minimum salary- which is to say 6 figures and a fresh crib with a view. Shit was real in Nebraska. I was born in the same hospital Malcolm X popped out of. Sort of fitting- by one way or another, he dropped his surname, which is to say his family name. I lost my family name. Different circumstances, surely, but I do not see coincidence. I see providence. I will make mistakes, large, glaring in the face of the public eye. I will scare a lot of pretentious blowhards. I hope to, nay, I strive to. As the story goes, I moved to Dallas, Texas & the rest is history.

This is my introduction. This is my life. I am going to let the keys be struck on the MacBook. This, overall, will not be a basketball blog. It's just going to be about my life, the shit that occurs in the confines, etc. Alas, this is my holier than thou attitude toward the world. END OF INTERMISSION. PLEASE TAKE YOUR SEATS.

ACT II
The bars going through my brain:

MOS DEF: KATRINA KLAP (DOLLAR DAY)



MALCOLM X: OXFORD UNION DEBATE



JEDI MIND TRICKS: UNCOMMON VALOR (A VIETNAM STORY)




The movies I can't break my gaze from right now:

CHE



FUNNY GAMES



WHEN THE LEVEES BROKE (EXCERPT)