ak's and chevrolets

well, i got to go back to my old hood yesterday, it was quite elevating for the spirit but still all too baffling to the mind. I didn't get to roll through and hit up all my homies, but i did get to holla at my homeboy of homeboys. We hung out on the porch, and we got to see some crazy ass fools with some crazy methods of removing you from existence. It was one of the best christmas memories that i will treasure for all time. When i told my homeboy about life here in the SAV he wanted to pack up and leave with us. Loyalty: it always shows you what it is about a person that makes just cool as fuck all the way around. There are alot of things about the hood that i miss like hell, but there is a huge part of it that strikes me with the harshest feelings of depression. The hood got an ALCO though, i thought was pretty fuckin cool all in itself. It was the first time i ever saw the huddle house closed too. What a night it was, then i drove home and got to scavenge through the rest of my christmas loot which ranged from a box of boxes of cookies and a new japanese fighting fish which i named "spoons" and he's one pad ass stinky left handed motha fucka. He can't hustle like me though. Then, to top it all off, my girl got another fuckin cat! so now were up to 3, let's see how ong this shit lasts.

Feelin the burn

NADA ABSOLUTAMENTE NADA

Well, i have officially begun my hunt for the spot in which i get my foot into the door that will hopefully one day allow me to establish myself as a world renowned author. I have been emailing paul williams for any kind of help or insight to help along with my struggle. The more i delve into this plight of mine i feel as though it is the calling that i have felt all my life. It wakes me from my sleep, it grips me at the moment that i feel that there is something in me that needs to get out and the only outlet it has is pen on paper. I get into a certain frame of mind where all that is around me is the opportunity to write out or type all that i can. It's almost euphoric the way it make me feel to write something that moves the reader or readers that i allow the chance to critique what i put on paper. Sometimes i find myself engulfed with letters and words, peices of poems and my sories rage through my head at speeds unheard of by mankind. Through it all as my mind quakes, and my palms yearn for the cylinder shape of an ink pen, there is an overwhelming burn deep within the back of my mind, it always feels as though my intuition and my imagination have fused to form one mass of all that is in my writing material, the very microscopic fragment of enlightenment that dwells in me in all that i do and attempt to accomplish. It feels sweeter than when fate smiles upon vengeance and i am the one allowed to extract it.

Day 1

well here we are, my first blog, i am a male i have brown hair and brown eyes,(but i'm certainly not full of shit) i work at the hilton in savannah georgia, i used to always go by my nick name nikia, but here i have to tone alot of things down. I work with a good freind of mine named tommy, we likes to chill hard like ice. Most of the time we're stuck behind the front desk and we usually don't get much to look forward to.