Friday, August 10, 2018

From Crack Heads to Cell Phone Heads

They teach in Recovery that addiction is addiction is addiction. This is why I employ the harm reduction model in my own drug and alcohol addiction. Yes, I am still a dope fiend/alcoholic but I practice harm reduction, i.e., I pay my rent, wash my ass, clean my house (a little), communicate with my children and grandchildren, etc. I do revolutionary work, I write write write. If I die as a dope fiend/alcoholic, I don't mind joining my friends in Dope Fiend Heaven or Hell.Iin the words of our beloved Hillary Clinton, "What difference does it make?" In the words of Chris Rock, "Yeah, I said it, I said it!" Motherfuckas say I'm a crazy motherfucka and all my friends were crazy, i.e., Sun Ra, Amiri Baraka, Huey Newton, Eldridge Cleaver, et al. But what did the sane, sober motherfuckas do in the revolution? You got to be a crazy motherfucka to challenge the USA, US Army, Navy, Air Force,
Marines, National Guard, FBI, CIA, NSA, Homeland Security, police, snitches and agents provocateurs. You got to be a crazy motherfucka not to care about death, prison, exile, house arrest and the plethora of amenities that await revolutionaries or anyone who challenges the capitalist system, the blood sucker of the poor, the exploiter of the 85% or 99% deaf, dumb and blind.

Sadly, Elijah was right when he said they are hard to lead in the right direction, easy to lead in the wrong direction. He said, "Why do we love the devil? Because he gives us nothing!" After 400 years in the Wilderness of North America, the socalled Negro don't want nothing but a job, the reason he was brought here in the first place, for free or nearly free labor, from chattel slavery to wage slavery. In 2018, he still lookin' for a job, good job. Give that nigga a good job and he will sell out his mama! Then when the boss fires his ass, he goes home and beats his woman. Yeah, she been by his side all the way, loving him, giving him babies, washing his dirty drawers, sucking and fucking him at his pleasure, but he wants to misplace his aggression upon her, not the white man who pimped his ass then gave his job to the white woman, or some gay, lesbian, transsexual or trysexual motherfucka and poor brother (and sister) thought they had a good job for life, thought they were part of the pimp's family. FYI, I ain't got nothing against nobody for their sexual life, but when brothers and sisters bring shit to me, I'm gonna tell it like it is. You can't fire me, don't care if you sell my books. I rather sell my books directly to the people. Fuck book stores, I rather give the people the 40% discount book stores charge. After my labor of writing, why do you deserve 40%, and wholesalers want 65 to 70%, then here come the tax man for his 10%, what the fuck!

I ain't trying to be nobody's leader, I don't want nobody to follow me around the block and I sure ain't following nobody around the block. As they say in prison and jail, ride yo own beef.
Let everybody be the leader, let everybody be the central command. When the US invaded Cambodia to destroy the Viet Cong Central Command, the Viet Cong said, "America cannot destroy the central command because we are all the central command!"

But as I recall my days as a Crack Head (documented in my play One Day in the Life, especially the scene made into a one act play by Ed Bullins and myself, Salaam, Huey Newton, Salaam), I recall running through the streets of San Francisco's Tenderloin and the Streets of West, North and East Oakland with Crack in my hand, rushing from the dope man to my house or hovel as it usually was, sometimes it was a TL alley or Hindu Hilton hotel room, SRO, dumps so dilapidated there was no locks on the doors, but one didn't care as long as one had a space to hit the pipe and go crazy.

But the Crack era has subsided or morphed into the Opioid zone as per chemical drugs. But, alas, there is now a drug more sinister and vile that all other drugs combined: the Cell Phone. Rather than addicts running through the streets with Crack in hand, we now see a global addiction to cell phone psychosis, yes, beyond a neurosis, yes, cell phone psychosis, a total break with reality in which the addict almost never removes the object of their addiction from their hand, literally, never: not while walking, talking to another human being, eating dinner, defecating, sexual intercourse, yes, the
entire daily round is consumed with cell phone in hand. Any any attempt to remove this vile object full of radiation may be the cause of cancer but most certainly the disconnection of human to human interaction in real time, I mean the touching, hugging, kissing, physical interaction between human beings. Lovers nor families can meet without this devil device in their midst.

The Cell Phone heads are thus addicts in a pandemic worse that all the world's chemical drugs combined. We cannot imagine the destruction this device is doing to socalled civilization. Yet, when used in the positive, most especially as a repository of knowledge and information, the cell phone is without peer, after all, it is a computer of the first order. And Becky will tell you any and everything you want and need to know, just Google her. But imagine, many have never Googled Becky, they spend their daily round stalking lovers and would be lovers with the mantra, "Where you at, where you at?" Sadly, the person asking probably doesn't know where he/she is at. Ask them, "Are you on the North East corner of Martin Luther King, Jr. Drive? After all, Dr. Frantz Fanon told us the oppressed man/woman is disoriented, he doesn't know where he is, and most especially who he/she is. Tell him, "You are a North American African." You are not a Continental African, European African, Caribbean African, Central and South American African.  Becky will tell who you are.
And if you can't spell, she will say, "Did you mean....?"

Friday, March 12, 2010


Parable of the Cell Phone



Parable of the Cell Phone


We have come to the death of speech. The era of high spiritual consciousness shall make speech unnecessary because we shall be keen enough to read thoughts up close and from afar. We shall understand as we understood not so long ago the glance of an eye from mama when we were misbehaving. There was no mistaking what mama's eyes were saying to us: straighten up and fly right or face the consequences.

In the old days, lovers and friends of long time could communicate without speech: they could read each others minds. This is also true when those of high consciousness have met for a short time. It all has to do with the Oneness of being, the One Mind that propels the universe, the universe of thought and the resultant action.

Speech is thus a kind of laziness and redundancy since we already know what we are thinking. And how often have we called someone thousands of miles away to hear them say they were just thinking about us or they had just mentioned our name in conversation. Or, they knew we were sick or someone was dead.

So how strange it is that we think the cell phone is an invention of high technology when it is, in fact, already obsolete in the era of spiritual consciousness. Furthermore, 90% of phone conversations are of no importance whatsoever. It is similar to when man discovered the wheel, surely many wheels were rolled down the hill for fun and entertainment.

The cell phone is such a device, and has become dangerous to our health. The Los Angeles train wreak happened because the conductor was text messaging. So we have new technology taking us backward into danger and death, rather than forward into life more abundantly.

People are so overjoyed with the new technology they cannot eat without it, cannot have sex without their cell phone in hand. What is more important, reaching a climax or talking to another girlfriend or boyfriend or business partner? Not only should the cell phone be banned while driving, but while eating and making love. Unless you are President Obama, that shit you talking about ain't hardly important. Aristotle said long ago that there were very few things in life really important.
And the last thing a woman needed was a cell phone. After all, (as if the man doesn't do the same Goddamn thing) she walks talking, sits talking, sleeps talking, eats talking, screws talking, on the toilet talking, in the bathtub talking. She will be in her coffin talking on the cell phone.

Sister


Yeah, these nigguhs is here at my funeral. Yeah, that bitch is here. Now you know I don't like that bitch. I should get out this casket and beat her motherfuckin ass. How dare she come to my funeral after I caught her and my man fucking. They can fuck forever now cause I'm outta here.
Yeah, I'm gone baby girl. But did you hear that other bitch sing that song I don't like? Yeah, how dat hoe gon sing a song I don't even like at my funeral. I should get out this casket and whip her ass too.

These nigguhs is too much for me. I'm so glad I'm outta here. And my man sittin there cryin crocodile tears. You know he gonbe at one of his other bitches house tonight. She gon be feelin all sorry for him. I should send my spirit over her house and bust up they shit. Know what I mean. I should just command my spirit over her place and fuck it up.

Now bout this heaven shit, Girl. We go see when I get there. Better be some fine nigguhs up in heaven or I'm goin down to hell. I am not gonna be where no mud duck lookin nigguhs is. And I gotta be there for eternity. Hell to the naw. Cause I know I'm cute. Did you see what I had on at my wake last night. Yeah, was I cute, girlfriend? I told dem funeral people don't be makinme look like no damn ghost wit all dat gray ass makeup. Have me lookin cute leavin here.

Well, girl they bout to close the casket. I'm so sorry you couldn't make it but everybody got up and said they little piece. They didn't stop nobody from saying what they thought about me, but you know it was all lies. Nigguhs oughta stop lyin like that. Half them nigguhs hated my guts.
You shoulda seen that hoe came dressed like mother Hubbard, crying all over my casket, bout to knock me ova. I started to raise up and slap dat bitch, but I kept my cool. I just kept lookin up at the ceiling.

Girl you take care. I hope they got some damn cigarettes in heaven, and they better have some Hennessey, I swear, or I'm going straight to hell.
Let me get off dis phone. Later, girl.

It is a new addiction and thus detox and recovery are in order. Go sit somewhere and listen to the inner self, don't be afraid, let self talk with self! You do have a self, right?

Most importantly, the cell phone may be a danger to our health, causing brain damage from radiation. In Europe, pregnant women are banned from using the cell phone. And with the I-phone and U-phone, Black Berry and Red Berry, the multi-uses include greater radiation. So keep talking, Mr. and Mrs. Negro, African, Aboriginal.

But let's talk without talking. The time has arrived to use the mind God gave you, as my mother said to me so eloquently and repeatedly, although it took at least fifty years to sink in. May you rest in peace, Mom! If you don't use it, she said, you will lose it!

So let the Divine Mind flow through us and between us. Instead of medicating on drugs, why not use and exercise our minds to the highest level. Try the silent mode rather than the incessant talking loud but saying nothing as ancestor James Brown told us.

Sometimes talking is a way of avoiding the other person because they never get the chance to speak. And this is the intent of the person dominating the conversation. Thus, constant talking is a devious attempt to block truth. The truth is often in the silence, or what you don't say.

Now some of those who are unable to shut up suffer a nervous condition and are in need of therapy and medication. Silence is probably their best therapy and medication. For sure, there is an apparent disorder in the personality that is preventing them from reaching higher consciousness, i.e., to speak without speaking, to hear without listening, to see without looking.

By the way, I cut off my cell phone service. ESP me. 



--Marvin X
Yuba City Jail
10/6/08
Revised 3/12/10









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