...continues from.
The next thing that would significantly change my life would almost take me down, my divorce. My kids were very young and I already felt like had missed the sweetest years of their lives. The thought of being weekend daddy was horrifying but instead of taking this as an opportunity to step up and finally make some positive changes. I of course latch onto the things that played a big hand in my divorce, drugs and alcohol. Shortly after I was told to move out I let my lawn care company dissolve into nothing and spiraled in and out of control for years. I left quite a mess in my wake. I'd only known one way of dealing with pain and I took full advantage of it. The whispers from the street were starting to show me her true colors and I couldn't bear the truth. She was a lying f@cking whore; I just knew we'd be together forever, the South Side streets and me.
Even with what I knew, hustle and party time check whores check blow check let's roll boys.
To be continued...
Showing posts with label Omaha. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Omaha. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Thursday, December 29, 2011
South Side Boys - Probationary Period
...continued from.
After probation we started to build a family. I found a trade and things were good. The kids grounded me some, and slowed me down. This was yet another, "I could pull my head out of my ass now" moments that slipped right by. I was making a good honest living, but two incomes are better than one, right? I never had to do much more than kick back with my boys at night to make money...at first. Money has a way of completely f*cking up one's judgement. Each night I was with the boys I wasn't with my family. F*cked up thing is, it's a vicious cycle because the money I made was for my family. So you begin to intentionally dull your conscience because you're "providing" but trust me, you will end up paying with your soul a thousand fold more than you have ever earned. I even became obsessed with my legitimate work 50-60 hours a week, plus side jobs, and hustling on top of that. My family grew up while I was on the grind and I'll never get that back. I financed the garden but feel like I barely got to see it blossom. You must be a provider but I took that shit and ran it into the ground. I allowed the responsibility of earning once again cloud my moral judgement and continue to deplete me. After awhile the hustle didn't come so easy, but that wasn't going to stop me. Lord knows it should have. When the hustle doesn't come to you it's something you never chase. That only ends in heartache or prison but I'm Big Daddy, doing my f*cking thing since I was 15 and no one is going to tell me otherwise.
...to be continued.
After probation we started to build a family. I found a trade and things were good. The kids grounded me some, and slowed me down. This was yet another, "I could pull my head out of my ass now" moments that slipped right by. I was making a good honest living, but two incomes are better than one, right? I never had to do much more than kick back with my boys at night to make money...at first. Money has a way of completely f*cking up one's judgement. Each night I was with the boys I wasn't with my family. F*cked up thing is, it's a vicious cycle because the money I made was for my family. So you begin to intentionally dull your conscience because you're "providing" but trust me, you will end up paying with your soul a thousand fold more than you have ever earned. I even became obsessed with my legitimate work 50-60 hours a week, plus side jobs, and hustling on top of that. My family grew up while I was on the grind and I'll never get that back. I financed the garden but feel like I barely got to see it blossom. You must be a provider but I took that shit and ran it into the ground. I allowed the responsibility of earning once again cloud my moral judgement and continue to deplete me. After awhile the hustle didn't come so easy, but that wasn't going to stop me. Lord knows it should have. When the hustle doesn't come to you it's something you never chase. That only ends in heartache or prison but I'm Big Daddy, doing my f*cking thing since I was 15 and no one is going to tell me otherwise.
...to be continued.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
South Side Boys - 21 and Running
...continues from.
By '95 my future wife and I were in full gear and life was pretty much the same as before except I was now a salesman at a lawn care company. Folks, if you didn't just die laughing, back up and reread. I sold these people the guarantee they'd always have good green grass. Not sure what you call that, literal metaphor comparison or some sh!t. As sad as it is now, it's still f@cking hilarious nonetheless. Just now 21, whole life's just begun, it's like a free buffet where we run. Living fast and working hard became the standard and the love affair that can become of that couple may be deadly. Money, love, and self-confidence are just the first few losses that come to mind. Lust of the fast lane tends to numb your soul to the whispers inside. Okay of course I"m writing this to provoke you, entertain you, you know a few chuckles and whatnot but most importantly I want to point out what direction a potentially magnificent future can succumb to over a lust affair with the streets. I'm 37 now and when this story is done I'm planning to keep it all love from 37 forward. Reason is I finally got my head COMPLETELY out of my ass (OUCH!) and do plan on keeping it that way. Okay okay, I know I'm jumping around but just buck up and stay with me. 21 just begun, fun, fun, F@CK!
Messed around and got in a little legal trouble. Not big trouble but enough that should have sent a guy straight into the work force as a sole means of income. Me on the other hand I wasn't ready to relinquish my status and my hustle, whatever those may have been.
There's a short time during probation that I did fly straight but she spoke to me at night because the street was in fact my teacher and confidant. I supposed she deserved the floor for a moment.
To be continued...
By '95 my future wife and I were in full gear and life was pretty much the same as before except I was now a salesman at a lawn care company. Folks, if you didn't just die laughing, back up and reread. I sold these people the guarantee they'd always have good green grass. Not sure what you call that, literal metaphor comparison or some sh!t. As sad as it is now, it's still f@cking hilarious nonetheless. Just now 21, whole life's just begun, it's like a free buffet where we run. Living fast and working hard became the standard and the love affair that can become of that couple may be deadly. Money, love, and self-confidence are just the first few losses that come to mind. Lust of the fast lane tends to numb your soul to the whispers inside. Okay of course I"m writing this to provoke you, entertain you, you know a few chuckles and whatnot but most importantly I want to point out what direction a potentially magnificent future can succumb to over a lust affair with the streets. I'm 37 now and when this story is done I'm planning to keep it all love from 37 forward. Reason is I finally got my head COMPLETELY out of my ass (OUCH!) and do plan on keeping it that way. Okay okay, I know I'm jumping around but just buck up and stay with me. 21 just begun, fun, fun, F@CK!
Messed around and got in a little legal trouble. Not big trouble but enough that should have sent a guy straight into the work force as a sole means of income. Me on the other hand I wasn't ready to relinquish my status and my hustle, whatever those may have been.
There's a short time during probation that I did fly straight but she spoke to me at night because the street was in fact my teacher and confidant. I supposed she deserved the floor for a moment.
To be continued...
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Upcoming Event -- Weekend of the 26th August
Hey you! Come on out to the Barley St. Tavern this Friday August 26th to see Dorkas and Deadbeat Darling live!! The show starts @ 9 PM. Get there early to enjoy a pint and good company! Barley Street Tavern is located @ 2735 N. 62nd St. One half block south of Maple on 62nd St. in Old Town Benson. $5 at the door. Thanks for supporting our local music scene.
Midwest Independent - A Cry For Help
Is there anybody out there? Hello? Can you hear me? I can hear faint whispers and I swear I feel the shifty glares staring back at me from my Blogger stat sheet. So unless the almost 1700 views in a little more than a month is a result of my three literate friends just trying to be supportive, these beady eyes must be you! Oh no! There is another possibility...my past traumatic paranoia is flaring up and perhaps there are no beady, shifty, whispering eyes staring back at me! I know you are out there damnit! Say something! Click on the rectangle below and "comment" a simple "you fuckin suck" would suffice, honestly. I've got my Big Boy Pants on and I believe I can weather your storm. I can see you looking. I know you're there...so just say something Please!!! I need input!
Seriously folks I'd love to hear from you. Nothing wrong with a little interaction. Feel free to share opinions, story ideas, suggestions for Quote or Song of the Day...whatever you want to share I'd welcome it! I'm going to be increasing my focus on the Midwest Independent section of this blog, so local musicians hit me up! I'd love to help support you - free pub is good pub! My fan base is growing daily and I'd be glad to post flyers, show dates, CD release parties, etc. Hit me up on FB (that badge down there in the right, bottom corner), or post your info in the comment section here. Thanks for your attention to my issues in advance, talk to you soon!!
~Horace Brittlepie
Seriously folks I'd love to hear from you. Nothing wrong with a little interaction. Feel free to share opinions, story ideas, suggestions for Quote or Song of the Day...whatever you want to share I'd welcome it! I'm going to be increasing my focus on the Midwest Independent section of this blog, so local musicians hit me up! I'd love to help support you - free pub is good pub! My fan base is growing daily and I'd be glad to post flyers, show dates, CD release parties, etc. Hit me up on FB (that badge down there in the right, bottom corner), or post your info in the comment section here. Thanks for your attention to my issues in advance, talk to you soon!!
~Horace Brittlepie
Monday, August 15, 2011
Fox's
...continues from.
I knew it was all the wrong things that were feeling right, and I had no control over it. I was just a boy... and only God can judge me. A sixteen year old's conscious is just that -- sixteen years old. So, we made our way to the local hot spot, "Fox's" and set up shop for the night. There were kids hustling pool, some shooting craps in the corner when the owner wasn't around, and of course the sale of illicits which were as numerous as the delinquents that inhabited this place.
Anyway, I better enjoy myself tonight because it's work or journalism every night the rest of this week. That's the problem with a headstrong teenager, their priorities are all f*cked up. I should have embraced my positive outlet in journalism and been more proud of my legitimate income but, damn I loved the attention we get when we're in the streets. People respected our neighborhood back then, kids stuck together whether black, white, brown, or any combination thereof, skin color didn't count, it was about where you were from.
If you could catch the parties in our neighborhood in a single snapshot or short reel it would read like a ghetto Benetton ad, "The United Colors of the South Side." One constant in my heart from late adolescence forward was the strong sense of pride I drew from growing up in a true "melting pot community" like South Omaha, Nebraska. My family tree represents the color wheel and if you don't understand why I'm proud of that you are most likely not my type of people.
To be continued...
I knew it was all the wrong things that were feeling right, and I had no control over it. I was just a boy... and only God can judge me. A sixteen year old's conscious is just that -- sixteen years old. So, we made our way to the local hot spot, "Fox's" and set up shop for the night. There were kids hustling pool, some shooting craps in the corner when the owner wasn't around, and of course the sale of illicits which were as numerous as the delinquents that inhabited this place.
Anyway, I better enjoy myself tonight because it's work or journalism every night the rest of this week. That's the problem with a headstrong teenager, their priorities are all f*cked up. I should have embraced my positive outlet in journalism and been more proud of my legitimate income but, damn I loved the attention we get when we're in the streets. People respected our neighborhood back then, kids stuck together whether black, white, brown, or any combination thereof, skin color didn't count, it was about where you were from.
If you could catch the parties in our neighborhood in a single snapshot or short reel it would read like a ghetto Benetton ad, "The United Colors of the South Side." One constant in my heart from late adolescence forward was the strong sense of pride I drew from growing up in a true "melting pot community" like South Omaha, Nebraska. My family tree represents the color wheel and if you don't understand why I'm proud of that you are most likely not my type of people.
To be continued...
Monday, July 11, 2011
Streets of the South Side (South Side Boys)
The first time I saw her, I was just a young boy. Even then, I knew without a doubt, she would teach me everything, completely... unselfishly... coming to me like a temptress in the night, she would take me under her wing and educate me in ways that most can't even fathom. Like a third parent, a .25 in my sock drawer, six grand in the lock box, and a cooler full of "the killer"... and I'm not even old enough to drive. I think I'm in love...
To be continued...
To be continued...
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