about me

Being a new millenium kind of sensitive guy, I don't notice the colour of someone's skin.
I see people in shades of grey. Just a bunch of grey people.
I cry in the shower too, which means I'm both sensitive and complex. Sometimes I cry on the toilet too. Sometimes I cry while I'm going to the bathroom in the shower. Very complex.
I wouldn't expect you to understand.


a funny thing happened the other day at work:
"Keith, I think you've gotten the wrong impression of black people," says Alice the black secretary.
"Jamal wanted me to have a talk with you before he files a formal complaint."

"Nonsense, bitch," I dismiss, carefully laying out cardboard from Jamal's study to the break room, should he feel the need to breakdance on his way to get coffee.
"I watch BET. I tape Da Mix. I've got it worked out. Y'all best check yoself," I caution, "fo' y'all wreck yoself."

"Keith, that isn't a fair representation of black people any more than any other show on Muchmusic. Would you say you're like Rancid, just because they're white?"

"Which one?" I ask, silently hoping she'll say the drummer with the nose ring who's easy on the eyes.


"Any of them, Keith. The point is it's all fiction. It's just smoke and mirrors."
She clutches my lapels, I suspect because of my strong sexual magnetism.
"It's -- not -- real."

I'm obviously driving her wild with desire.

"Forget it. God, you're such a retard, Keith."

"I told you. Don't call me Keith. My name is Youngblood Priest."
I hand her my new business card for handy reference. "Your problem is that you're racist, bitch."

She leaves. I understand black women. I know that they'll get all up freak in my face and shit, as is their custom. So long as I show her the back of my hand occasionally, she'll give me the respect I deserve.

Jamal walks by. "Hey, motherfucker! Motherfucking mondays, huh, motherfucker? I fucked your fucking mother!" I flash him the westside sign. Yeah. Youngblood Priest knows the score.

I moonwalk to the breakroom for a well-deserved coffee.
It's not easy being a sensitive mellenium man. Somehow I manage to do it exactly right, however, and make it look effortless to boot.
While in the breakroom, I cry while taking a crap in the sink.

I'm so motherfucking complex it's ridiculous.