Floyd

L Floyd

The Tao of Poo!

10/21/11

Because eventually all things converge or at least lead back to, around, or are defined by the presences of or the lack of gods: this is my beginning. M name is Leron Floyd III but I haven’t been that person for at least 16 years now. For this half of my piece of life I’ve been called Doc. Some of my “dearest” friends don’t know my “truest” name. I’m all about irony I guess, it shows me the duality in thought which is the way- maybe the only way- I perceive the world.

…..

I like the teachings of the Tao. It’s one of the only words I correctly capitalize when I write. There’s a flow of holding and letting go with the same hands that resonate a complete sentence with me. There’s friends who’ve become enemies- not because we were always enemies but because friendship is so often based on personal gain to begin with, I wonder, after I’ve used up my friends knowledge, or wealth, or access, or whatever it is they have to give…do I (in a sense) become their knowledge, possess their wealth, be their them? Or am I just a shallow user of what I consider to be …powerful tools I’d need?

The Remembrance Stone 10/25/11

I’m a Libra ya’ know!

Yep, a full fledged indecisive, thinks he’s intellectual, possibly artistic, hard to decide though kind of guy. October 3rd 1980… I guess I “began”. I’m doing this journal thing as a sort of letting go. I’ve always written things that somehow or another have gotten lost. Like a three ringed bind whit poems I wrote in middle school- including a thingksgiving day poem aobu thow the Indians and Pilgrims felt abou teach other. I’ve had the problem with letting things go. It hurts me to losing things are worse than having them stolen and selling things is slightly better than doing them for sentimental value but only in the long term. I don’t even like to give my drawings away to the people I’ve drawn them for.

But prison has a way of changing a person’s mind. The things I thought yesterday seem weak in this one. Some convictions are just cartoon bubbles and besides- what does yesterday matter when you have to survive today? That’s pretty much prison. But still the mind remembers. The heart longs for those more decent things a live can have. Occupy!

I remember Applejacks, remote control cars, planting baby trees in 4th grade for Temple Inland. I remember, against my will childish nightmares, childish hopes and dreams which are my waking nightmares now. Hmm, let’s see, there was JoHron, my mother’s cool boyfriends, my mother’s bad boyfriends, a friend I had when I was five whose name I know but no longer remember his face. My first fight, first thing I ever stole: bubblegum, those ones that came in wrappers like little coins! That seems a double temptation to me now, not only do you get a shiny coin wrapper but you also get gum too!!! I remember when I decided to runaway for the first time. The time I told my mother “No!” I remember my long plunge into those jam-packed world of drugs. I remember wanting better, thinking that just over the next rise there’d be a better live, better people, better friends…better me.

(heavy sigh)

I remember a lot of things that I’ve forgotten, but I’ve never forgotten how to laugh at funny things or how to keep from crying at sensitive ones. For better or worse I’m a man with a future I mostly never thought about much.

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