About Me

Blac Garner
I'm seven different people. Six of them are dope ass rappers.

Gideon Wildflower
Most would call me a writer.. but most don't know what the fuck they're talking about.

We are both @APurpleUnicorn .

Tuesday, August 7, 2012



boomerang ditty. Back in downtown DC with my most imminent problem at the forefront of part of my mind and in the background of another. Part of me knows seeing a situation as a problem can be an unnecessary inhibitor and would like for the rest of me to stop being silly. It's all inside of me, though, and that's something that all of me can fully appreciate. I'm at a gay bar. Funny phrase. "A gay bar." Ridiculous, no? We all need hugs. I'm here to finally see a woman, I've been stalking on the internet. I'm certainly not trying to sleep with her so the prospect of meeting her seems to have lost a lot of it's appeal. I really just want to see her and write about what I see. I don't even know her name, just her username on twitter. ChanelEater. I've always wanted to just sit and watch someone I find fascinating as I write so I'm pretty excited about this. People tend to bore me, with the aspect of our humanity that demands us to mold ourselves in the likeness of one another to feel comfortable. I think living with yourself everyday deadens the miracle of being here. Maybe that has something to do with it. People seem to be the most interesting when they are very close or very far away. When they're far away you can watch them without them being uncomfortable and reacting to your presence.. and the same thing about when they're close. It's hard getting close, though; we seem so very scared of one another. I find that I have to constantly remind myself not to be afraid when people notice me noticing them. This girl from college is here. We know each other well enough to recognize each other but not well enough to show each other recognition. I think it's funny that she's going to think I'm gay now. I chastised myself a bit for being scared of that. I'm really out here, my nigga. This woman at the bar has the biggest, roundest, ass I've seen since my month in Atlanta. I've been wanting to write that for a long time because I've been staring at her on and off for about ten sentences now. The timing of it amuses me, though. How it fit in right after I admitted fear of being thought of as homosexual. Sounded like I was trying to prove something, no? I've yet to see ChanelEater. If she doesn't show, I won't be angry. Peeved, irritated; those are better words for what someone might be after going to a place to see someone and not seeing them. Maybe, dejected as well. I won't feel any of those things. I'm surrounded by beautiful women, even if they don't know it, and I have, at least, a page of written thoughts to show for this endeavor. Haha! I just saw her. The fashion show just started and she's a part of it. People seem so uncomfortable on the runway. It's like knowing that the focus is on you, that the focus is on how you look.. it bothers people to know this. ChanelEater made me smile, though. She's got fight in her. Even with her being uncomfortable, she waved her arms around in a way that one wouldn't be able to do if they were paralyzed by fear. She came out again and looked at me for a couple seconds longer than the norm. If she recognizes me then that totally destroys what I'm doing here but I'm still glad I came. She danced the 2nd time she came out and it was wonderful. Her and the other woman who comes out before her seem to be the most... something. Like they fight the fear that we all feel with eyes on us, a fear which usually reduces it's victims to jerky movements and cold stares. When the fear is too much, we hide. You can literally see it happening because we look around to see if our submission to the fear is apparent. That becomes a part of the fear itself.
Well the show is over. I wonder if I should leave. She was beautiful but perhaps even more beautiful was the strength of spirit she showed. It was fucking wonderful to behold. To write about. To jot down in clear thoughts. The other girl was teh one who put the show together, I think. The other one like ChanelEater. She just came out and said hello to me. She reminds me of this girl I knew in college I called Scooby. Scooby was the shit. I'm going to leave now. ChanelEater is out smoking by the door. I wonder if she'll say something. I'm not sure if I want her to.. I will not succumb to the fear of being seen, though. I'm too beautiful for that. And so is everyone else. Until next time, my friends.