Airplane Vomit Bag

what started out as notes on an airplane vomit bag

where do i go from here?

what could be more necessary than pain?

I absolutely hate sitting… sometimes, i don't even know why. i don't like to be comfortable…i can't help but think all luxury does is weaken the individual. is that strange? I choose not to believe that any worthy reward could be summoned at the tap of a button. I choose to work for my satisfaction…pain, is necessary. I've built too much foundation for this shit. Increasingly, I find it hard to relate to people that don't live the lifestyle I do…I mean, even among bboys, a lot of the time I don't feel like I belong. I live this shit…it's all i fuckin do…when i'm training today i'm thinking about doing all i can without sacrificing all i could tomorrow…i eat right, ice my knees, sleep right… I got no job, no school, no other real obligations but to get by. my room itself looks abandoned and messy. i'd be shocked if i were someone else that stepped into my room. they say a room says alot about a person…but i'm always on the move. i can't sit. i almost never sit in my room and reflect…i keep going, i keep drifting with the music…i take 99% of what i live with, with me…and that's myself. i am the instrument, i'm constantly learning my own language…

lately, I've only felt like I truly belong when i'm lost in the music n just going off…I only really love living my day to day for that 3-4 hour window. I only condition every other day at the gym for an hour or so to maximize that window. i started to cook because i want to know exactly what i'm taking in…I sleep more than enough. sometimes i even powernap just so my muscle could recover a bit more right before practice. it's like i'm addicted to beating myself up, but that, being only a byproduct of chasing my dreams. I don't think many people understand this shit. it's like I've successfully rewired my brain with this obsession…and believe me, i definitely have an addictive personality. but man, i can't kick back anymore, until I've beaten myself up that day already. i just can't. It's like my heroin, my devotion…i'ma funky junkie. I've learned to really love music from the 70's and 80's…ANY music, that has soul. any music that just cries out raw emotion dying to be felt…i feel it. it doesn't have to be upbeat…it doesn't have to be hip hop breaks funk- its anything. if its music, if it has rhythm, if i could hear it and feel compelled to react to it…it's inspiration. but lately, i've been listening to damn near all funk, even when i'm not breaking, just kicking it in my room, its on in the background. only to alternate between erykah badu and d'angelo type shit. whatever moves the soul…keep's the soul moving. that's food to me.

so if i never really make money outta this shit…or never blow up…then good. that's fine with me because i am completely at peace. i am happy to live like this, i really am. i've been conditioned by hell, conquered my demons, and made it out in one piece…so bring on the fuckin pain! struggle is the essence of living, i believe that shit to the fullest. i love this artform, and i just wanna live to grow it and spread it. hahaha…n look, i'm a VERY stubborn guy…can't nobody stop me but myself. but i'm out there every single day seeking good pain. pain is absolutely necessary for the rawest expression of human emotion to flow. whether thru poetry or dance…it's all one. give me a floor, and some music…and i'll take you on a journey through my mind. I've fine-tuned and got the hang of my body's daily potential and know my body's signs for me to chill to make my training extremely consistent and productive. i just want to meet the me i inevitably will be tomorrow. it gives me a reason to lose sleep, a reason to wake up. i wake up everyday anticipating that window that zone that makes me feel like god.

so if anyone else could do it….then tell me…how the fuck can't I? but then again, that's not the point. success isn't somewhere you get to, it's the direction you're going. those that run for the finish line and not the journey itself will indeed finish, and be finished. aim for impossibility and you will redefine what is possible…i'm constantly reeling in what was just in my imagination into reality…beating my body up to GET IT… cramming my muscle memory only to let it breathe with brief jump rope reps to keep it warm n ready to go again. working to make my imagination- second nature movements that make me feel the epitome of free…that, is my addiction. unless my knees are busted our my calves are dead…i'm jumping rope on my freetime.