Art Is Insanity 

We as a society love art. Music, movies, comedy, novels, paintings, sculptures, etc but we don’t want to accept most art comes from pain. Talented people are usually tormented. Alcohol, drugs, failed relationships with family, significant others and friends. You spend hours trying to be great at this art form and it’s dark. 

Kanye is crazy but crazy gave us Jesus Walks and Van Gogh cut off his ear and committed suicide. I’ll probably die drunk falling off a balcony in Paris but I’ll have novels on bookshelf’s a 100 years from now. It’s an acceptable trade off. Immorality for sanity.
We’ll never have another Watch the Throne album and I’m okay with that. Kanye will be back in Houston on December 2nd and I’ll be there because he’s one of the greatest artist of our time.

You Don’t Have to Put Her Down to Lift Her Up

182240_562470723185_118401058_31406809_1126638_n I don’t often talk in absolutes but this is the one instance I will. Some of us are really bad at being adults. What does that mean? We don’t know how to be mature and view things from the standpoint of “Everything isn’t about me.”

If you’re the type of man that has to put down the woman you used to claim to love in order to make another woman feel better about herself than the simple truth is you probably aren’t capable of loving the woman you’re putting her down for. Some relationships aren’t going to work. No matter how hard we try or how much we want it; they just don’t happen. That doesn’t mean that the love that existed between the two of you vanished. So telling the world how much he or she sucks or is worthless says more about you than the person you’re trashing.

I’ve seen people that were head over heels in love with someone in December talk about them like a dog in February. I’ve seen people that couldn’t stop letting us know when they were on a plane together or at their favorite restaurant look at that same person in disgust. When breakups first happen, they hurt like hell. There’s resentment, anger, jealously, rage, depression but at some point the sun is going to come out. That’s when you have to decide whether or not you’re going to move on.

Putting down someone us to let another person know how dope they are just isn’t cool and ask yourself one question. Should the foundation that you have with her be based on what you didn’t have with someone else?

Peace

Some people blog to get discovered.

Some blog because they want to have a voice or they love a certain facet of life and want to talk about it.

I blog because I like letting people know that they aren’t alone with their thoughts. That they aren’t the only ones in the world feeling like they’re feeling at that specific moment and time.

I wish I had some calm, some peace, a sanctuary. No matter how hard I try and find it, it doesn’t come. I’ve never been on a battlefield, I’ve never seen a man die or a plane bomb a building but in my imagination I feel like that’s what’s going on inside of my head and heart at the moment. I feel like a battle is taking place and I don’t know how to get off the battlefield.

I don’t even listen to music when I drive anymore because it’s where I do my best thinking. It’s quiet, the windows down, I can talk to myself without looking crazy. I don’t know when I started doing it, I just know my iPod has been dead for almost two weeks and I haven’t even tried to charge it up.

College and high school teach us a lot. We learn math, history, science and now they even have religion and cooking classes. But there’s no class on life. No class on how to fight the demons and how to overcome fears and struggles. The only class is the battlefield. The only class is learning how to deal with as you’re going through it.

At times I wish I wasn’t a writer, I wish I didn’t internalize and think things over and over and over again. A moment of calm, of peace, of clarity. I lie in bed at night dreaming of those moments, wondering if they will come.

I fear they never will. IMG_0148

10 Reasons Why I Believe I’m Falling In Love With You

Common-Romantic-Regrets One- I check your Facebook every day. Not really to see who you’re talking to or what guys are saying but just to look at pictures, to see your face. I like seeing your face, seeing your smile.

Two- When you call my entire personality changes. I smile more, I don’t get out the truck, I blow off work for twenty minutes, your voice makes me realize just how much nothing matters more than talking to your pretty ass.

Three- I love your ambition, I find myself talking about you to strangers just because you’re you.

Four- I could care less about having sex with you, our conversations are enough. The way you stimulate my mind means more than any woman has ever done to me physically.

Five- When I write it’s you I see.

Six- The things that make me ignore most women, complaining, whining, crying, all those things bring me closer to you. They make me want to spend more time with you.

Seven- I watch you sleep, not in a creepy way or Silence of the Lambs way but just in a way that brings me comfort. I wonder what you’re dreaming about. I like pulling you close and having you sink your body into mines.

Eight- I have a feeling that when you’re completely into me the amount of freaky and sexy in you will turn me out. It will change my life.

Nine- I love your simplistic beauty.

Ten- Loyalty. To your friends, to your family, to me. Even though we haven’t known each other for long I love how you’re willing to have my back. I love how you talk to me and see me in a way that makes me feel like you care. I know you care. I’m falling in love with you and I don’t care who knows it.

She Don’t Love You; She’s Just Lonely

She Don’t Love You She Just Lonely
Days like today when she calls you and says she just wants to hear your voice, days like today when she sends you a text smiling and asking you what you’re doing. Days like today is her being lonely, it’s not you or what you’re doing; it’s what I’m not doing.

I don’t doubt you’re a good man, I don’t doubt you care about her and love her and treat her better then myself or any man ever has. I don’t even doubt that a part of her cares for you but she’ll never love you because you aren’t me. She’ll never love you because no matter how good of a man you are you’ll never touch her soul like I touched her soul. You’ll never feel the pain, the warmth, the passion that we felt all those nights, all those mornings, all those rainy days. Her infatuation with you is because she’s lonely, it’s because I didn’t know what I was supposed to do and her pride won’t let her forgive me.

At night when you go to hold her and she pulls away it’s not because she’s too warm, it’s because at night is when it’s hardest for her to lie to herself. In the morning when she closes the bathroom door while she’s brushing her teeth or taking a shower it’s because she isn’t as comfortable with you as she is with me. Those doubts you have in your head, those moments when you’re driving and you cut off the radio trying to shake that feeling, you can’t shake it can you? You can’t shake it because you know she doesn’t love you, she’s just lonely. Having you there is better than being alone. She doesn’t know any other way because all she knows how to do is love, all she wants to do is love.

Her guilt gets the best of her sometimes, she feels bad for allowing you to love her like you do. She watches you sleep or cook or talk about something that happened at work and she wants to scream, “I CAN’T DO THIS ANYMORE!” But then she’d have to be alone again and that scares her more then anything. Not because she can’t do it but because being alone means that she may call me, it means that the love she can’t control, the love that makes her crazy, the love that sucks her in and swallows her whole may take over her life again. She doesn’t know if she’s ready for that so she settles with you.

Regardless of my faults I’m a good man and because I’m a good man I would never try and ruin what you have regardless of the quicksand it’s built on. I won’t be her excuse for breaking your heart, I’ve already put more pain in her life then I can ever atone for and I won’t add to that by making her live with the regret of leaving you for me. So instead I’ll just wish you good luck in loving a woman that doesn’t love you but is simply lonely.

The Love That Makes You Kind of Blue

I love jazz. I love falling in love with music every time I listen to it. The smoothness of the rifts, the passion and emotion in the instruments. One of the most calming feelings in the world is listening to a song that you know someone wrote with all their heart.

This CD is one of the sexiest and most beautiful pieces of music ever written and performed. As a writer all I want is for my words to matter as much as this music does.

Life is too short to matter.

~ Demez F. White

Losing God’s Gift

letter-xy6k4p Rubbing his fingers across the keys he closed his eyes and ignored the tears and the pain in his hands. He didn’t get excited anymore by the applause or packed Halls. They didn’t exist to him, all that existed was the music, the notes, the chords. With each press of the ivory keys he knew he was coming one step closer to never playing again. At the age of twenty four he’d played for two Presidents, a King and Queen, the Pope and more diplomats and stars then he could ever keep count of.

He didn’t own a car or home and there was no girlfriend or wife waiting on him. Music was his life; the piano was his wife, son, daughter and first love. Traveling around the world five times over he let out every bit of regret and emotion he had in what was to be his last performance.

Doctors in New York, Hong Kong, England and Johannesburg all told him the same thing in one way, shape or form, “You have an early onset of tendinitis and it’s highly unlikely you’ve ever be able to play the piano again but with medication and physical therapy you can live a normal life.” Some told him three months, some told him three weeks but they were all telling him his life was over.

Since he was four people told him that God gave him a gift very few people would ever have. He never read music even though he taught himself. Everything was played by ear, he was one with it. How do you live a life where the only thing you’ve ever loved has abandoned you? How do you wake up knowing for a quarter century that all your hard work and preparation to be quite possibly the most celebrated pianist of all time was now over?

Those questions plagued him, struck fear in him but tonight all he wanted was to make love to the keys one last time. Sweating, his eyes red, his hands feeling like a thousand knives were going into them he finished the show with an original piece he’d never played before. A piece no one in the audience would be familiar with. The intensity of the performance slowed to a slower tempo that spoke to the pain that was in his heart.

Finishing the performance, opening his eyes, rubbing the keys and walking off the stage for what would probably be his last performance he finally looked up when he realized they were all standing for him. Screaming and clapping and crying for him. As he took his bow, walking back to the dressing rooms the applause only got louder. The chants of his name only got louder.

They loved him because he could give them the release they desperately needed. Sitting down, placing his hands on the table he just stared at them and thought back to all the good times. Was he defeated or just hurt he thought.
Standing up, looking in the mirror, he realized if he was to lose his gift. He wouldn’t lose it in the steal of night; he’d lose it playing in front of thousands. Walking back out on the stage with to jacket, no bowtie, he didn’t even acknowledge the audience or the pain. He just sat down and fought over the gift God was taking away.