All right y’all, I had to roll up my sleeves and earn a living this morning. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does there is no messing around. I already spent the money.
I was reflecting on my life last night, while drinking a beer alone and reading a 1,000 page fantasy novel, and tried to put in place the decisions I made that allowed me to live a life of such sweet privilege. I remember the bikes, and I have to thank my folks for that. The Schwinn Mag Scrambler, the Fuji Palisade, and finally the Jamis Dakar # 1 (Thanks to Tommy for that one). I thought about my job and how it was a series of happenstance encounters coupled with my indignant idealism that steered me towards my work in “social justice” as we like to call it.
What I can’t figure out is what ever happened to my career in the hip hop industry? I was around in the early days, right at the epicenter of the hip hop movement, an hour and a half southeast of Orlando, just past the orange grove belt. I was a pretty good breakdancer, and my rhymes were clever and tight, yet- no contract.
What up with that?
I have had a hip hop sensibility since I first heard Hard Times by Run D.M.C. and in high school I just assumed there would be a place for me in the industry. Nobody saved me a seat.
I’m happy now, as the facilitator of a virtual mountain bike kingdom, with a job that accomodates some trail-related travel and an almost daily nap, but what if?
What great destiny are you currently AWOL from?
Someone cue the crickets please, or release the awkward silence…