When I die and my family throws my ashes into the Atlantic so I can float back to Africa with the ancestors, I'd rather they don't pray.

Just remember I loved my niggas.

When these boards ain't nothing but HTTP 404 errors in The Cloud and you hop on the Wayback Machine and see my screen name for the first time in years, don't try to recall any of my incisive subject lines or the spontaneous aphorisms.

Just remember I loved my niggas.

And remember I love my niggas now, while I confess that the first thing that crosses my mind when I see a young black man on the street is how I could Batman that nigga into righteousness.

I'm tired of sizing niggas up. I feel like the back of my mind is up against a wall. I'm constantly thinking of ways to incapacitate my brothers, even though such articulate violence is beyond my ability. I'm built more like Paula Jai Parker than Michael Jai White, but the hydrocortisone flowing from my adrenal gland got me thinking I'm Mike Jai Tyson.

This is a reaction to stress, of course. A stress I thought myself immune to. I've seen many expressions of violence in these streets, but at age 30 I'm not numb anymore. When I see a kid crash into some metal mesh and drool platelets all over his chin while his attacker tries to figure out how his new phone works, I feel that shit. And I want my niggas to feel it too. Because I love my niggas.



• i found this saved in my icloud looking for something else. Its dated April 5, 2017. I'm not sure that's when it was written and posted here. I'd asked and was granted permission to do a piece with it which, i did but never posted as i don't really think i did this any kind of justice. I still think about this piece of writing from time to time. I don't know why i'm posting this now, but here it is. I hope its ok Ike if you see this.