Yes, Child, You May.
It is May. Finally. Not that I want to “rush” my life or anything BUT, since October 1st of last year, God showed me, this would be a Long, Factomious* Winter. Full, of drudge.
It was. I had no idea how serious it was to be, but nonetheless, I made it to May. You see, God also showed me that Spring of 2019 would be an epic year of coasting and I would start writing again.
Now, it is time to stop chasing after dreams that could be and start to live in the NOW. In the Now. And Now, It is May. It is My. Now. May.
For Kentucky people (some of them) many of them, will be posting about horse racing and Louisville, Kentucky’s shining glory, the Finish Line, May 4th. Saturday, May 4th, people will be partying and wining and dining, and betting and watching horses (bridled and stuffed with butt rags,) run their hearts out for a crown of Red Roses weighted on their back and Water.
Drinks will be spilling and Louisville commerce will be relishing in visitors and vomit.
I too, will be partaking of vine. Well, bits of it. #grateful
“So why be so crude about it Ms. King”?
Well, because I grew up precisely on Taylor and Berry Boulevards. Yes, I walked the streets of 7th and Arcadia Ave. during the 1980’s and I darted my teen-age fat ass up and down the Americana Apartments watching the street hookers, hook.
One time, I even ran away for 6 hours one middle school day and hid in the complex from my mom (until it got dusky) then I ran 2 miles home, down Sale Ave. hoping not to get kid-napped as I faced the punishment of cutting school.
You know what else I did. I played video games at the laundry mat behind the McDonald’s across the way from Churchill Downs. I partied on Central Ave. at age 13 and got an ass whooping (one deserved….) for walking up there at midnight with friends looking like an 80’s chip-a-waw in’gin. Feathers and Caps and Black Mascara and All.
(May I say in both instanced, my much older brothers caught me and told on me AND good for them. No 13 year old girl had the right to be walking in the middle of the night in that drunken Derby mess.) Mother May I? No you MAY NOT!
My point, I have so many memories of our South End and tens of millions of dollars are funneling through those fantastic TwinSpires this week and the view is one of the the most beautiful sites on the planet and I even worked there for a while as I STRUGGLED to save my family from homelessness while I was in massage therapy school just four years ago. It was fun. Hard. But fun. It helped pay the bills.
But recently, when the local facilities representatives had asked me to come do FREE chair massage for 8 hours a day and send two more people to help, I had to unfortunately say No. “No I May not work that hard for Free as a therapist who barely makes the bills while you make millions of dollars. No. No I May Not. Sorry. Not Sorry.
But here is my real beef. When the race tickets are flying in the air, and the staff are cleaning the stalls full of shit and piss and the horse crosses the finish line and the Uber drivers are counting there tips, (or not), then ask me this poised question when it is all over….
“Ms. King, are there any 13 year little girls running around barefoot on Taylor and Berry, poor and struggling in the ally’s to find healthy foods missing in icebox and is she stepping on heroine needles and listening to the cheer of the crowds on Longfield Ave.?”
My guess, is yes….
Mother May I go out and Play this May?
Mother, “No. You. May. Not.”
Truth is my identity.
#foodforthought #gobabygo #citycleanout #whenwegonnaseethetruth #southendgirlrising #someonehastoseeit #ministerymissionyoga #grantmoneynow #changethestreetsafterderbythistime #dosomethingdifferent #mothermayi #yesyoumay #freespeeech #pinkelephants #coffeewiththemayor