"I Ain't Nothin Like Your Last Dude, What's His Name? Not Important." : The Honesty of Game

One of the more hilarious conversations I've been in lately had to do with a stripped and blunt conversation about game.

Some people have it.

Some people do not.

The conversation ended with my friend, who is also an ex of mine, saying simply:

You and I have game.

Some people do not.

(pause)

A point of pride is that I can say, without question, that every single one of my friends has game.  It is quite incredible and, at times, blows my mind with their honest suaveness and intelligence.

(pause)

It doesn't matter how much you know about books, how much you know about music, what you can or cannot do with your hands, if you cook well or if you don't:

If you don't have game, (here meaning the ability to be creative, loving, smart, and secure in yourself), I will get bored of you.

And when I get bored of you, I may start to bat you around because it's more entertaining than your insufferable plans that you found in the "Things To Do This Weekend" section of the newspaper.

I will get bored when you don't recognize your class- and race- and gender- and citizenship- and language- and educational background- privilege.  I will listen to you talk about the "injustices" that you experience and think of you as a miniature Donald Trump and his puckered asshole of a mouth pulsating and complaining about all of the things that have done him wrong.

So please:

If you are going to approach me, on any level:

Be intelligent. Be aware. Be critical. Be non-abusive. Be fabulous.

And for fuck's sake:

Have some game.



be well; be loved,


k.

(title: Lyrics from Truffle Butter)
(image: Kate Moss by Craig McDean, W Magazine, May 2001 via deshistoriesdemode tumblr)