The musings of a madman...

[Pt. I can be reached  here ] [Pt. II can be reached  here ] [Pt. III can be reached  here ] [Pt. IV can be reached here ]      Denim… The answer has been denim this whole time.      While we wait on the victims marks to sort this out for themselves, I will explain to you, dear readers by peeling back the options I gave to them. Fuel - too new, too far west in the city to truly have been on the ground floor of what built Greensboro. The Greensboro terminals are f’sho the conduit from the gulf states to areas north of here, but how long has America had this apparent lust for fossil fuels compared to… Tobacco - we’re getting closer now… There are still some small farms in the east of the county that grow it, but I see more solar farms out there than I do tobacco nowadays. Furthermore, Lorillard is no longer a thing and ITG aren't making Newports over in East Greensboro which removed a worldwide-known boon from what could be bragged – if you should ever “brag” about such a fou

       I am not a “people” person… Don’t take that to mean I am some hermit who has ZERO friends or acquaintances camped out in his mom’s basement criticizing women he has no chance with because “her eyes are too far apart,” I am just VERY guarded with the people I will fuck with. There are a PRECIOUS few people who can invite me outside of my house and expect me to be in attendance. I am far more likely to have them over here, frankly. … I was invited to a house party… Homie: “What’s good Phlip, you straight?” Me: “I’m good, man. What’s up?” Homie: “The weather is right, we pulling out the tents and firing the grills this weekend.” Me: “Say less…” Homie: “So you in?” Me: “Without question… What I need to bring?” Homie: “Beverage, if anything.” Me: “Your wife still drink [__]” Homie: “You know us well.” Me: “On it.” Homie: “What about you? What we on this trip?” Me: “I’m doing the sobriety thing.” Homie: “Oh yeah… You gon’ be alright around it?” Me: “GOOD-good… You’ve met my fami

       When I was little, I was always stoked to spend time with my granddad… At surface-level, he would come home from work in the mornings and during the summer we would be at the house already while mom was at work. Before sleeping his day off, we would go with him to play tennis on the courts at the high school around the corner from his house. We would go to the park across the street and hit golf balls. On Sunday mornings, he would take us to this little greasy spoon diner for breakfast.      During all of these excursions, he would talk to my brother and I. We would learn whether the words coming were from a positive or a corrective place depending solely on whether he started with “son” or “boy,” respectively. One time when we were about twelve we were at the diner having breakfast almost as soon as he came home from work, as in he didn’t even bother with changing clothes, when he looked over his coffee cup and says “y’all make sure, more than anything, you take care of y