Ames Progressive

I knew during my pre-pubescence that I was not going to sling crack rock or develop a wicked jump shot. However, with maturity I found an alternate and dastardly route to incorporate both by sharpening my writing skills.While I take a brief hiatus from my blossoming screenplay that puts New Jack City, Blow and Scarface to shame, I momentarily will invest all my language prowess and mental energy to a NBA Playoffs that will enliven me without economic compensation.

April 19th begins my Thanksgiving as I play host to such notable characters as Kobe, King James, KG, Sheed, Kidd, Agent Zero, Boozer, CP3, Dirk, Dwight, Shaq, T-Mac, Amare and other friendly Goliaths with glittering names. Coincidentally, that date features a much-hyped UFC fight with Long Island’s Matt “The Terror” Serra crossing the border to battle Montreal’s George St. Pierre in his hometown with the Welterweight title at stake. Man, I am like a breathing Sports TV Guide.

As much excitement as the next coming months will provide me sitting in front of a two-dimensional box, the ongoing and intense series can only spark a flurry of playground games spreading all over the country, if not the globe. But for a 25-year-old with immeasurable grit that belies an inconsistent J, I find more glorification in the prospect of churning out Shakespearian vignettes oozing with superlatives and appreciation as the NBA Playoffs allows me to remember. To appreciate. To soar. In short, to live.

To maintain in a commercial Metropolis where the sirens of Wall Street can lure any purebred artist to repress a love for expression remains a constant struggle for I your seemingly zealous narrator. The outside judgments from friends, family and anyone with arrogance and personal denial penetrates. Jumbled thoughts of counterproductive regret muddles the truth. My own invigorating truth. The truth that no one needs to turn my name into luxury and notoriety for me to continue to write anything and everything.

My friend Adam recently sent an email with the subject line, “random musings.” He has been working for a large company in the city for a few months now and I guess he is beginning to remember the eternal question why, even though it has no answer. Rarely do friends share an artistic product with me but even if my friend’s sample of prose was sophomoric and repetitive, which it certainly was not, I would find merriment in hearing a uncompromising voice.

So as I partake on a celebrated journey from the playground to the hardwood to my laptop to the ethereal world that stores written word like a beach saving the imprints of summers, explore your voice. Let no doubt hamper or confusion cripple, just go, Just be. Just speak. But if you could, keep it down during game time. Much appreciated.