active 4 months, 1 week ago • from Celebration, FL, United States
too late to start over too soon to die

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About Me:

Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Modi. It all started when I was born, my mother said it was an easy going process...easy for her maybe, all I remember was bright lights hitting me in my eyes with several spectators. I didn’t know whether...

Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Modi. It all started when I was born, my mother said it was an easy going process...easy for her maybe, all I remember was bright lights hitting me in my eyes with several spectators. I didn’t know whether to be born or do jazz hands. Considering I was raised in Knoxville instead of Memphis Tennessee, I guess that would have been inappropriate. My first wayward moment started when I was young, around preschool. I took a little red race car and put it in my pocket. I must of looked around several thousand times to make sure I looked as guilty as possible, but to me it felt like Robert DeNiro in “Heat”. When I got it home the car didn’t play as well so then I had to transform into the uber spy and put it back. Thus ended my once and only crime spree for the rest of my life. I went to a rural kindergarten where I was the only black kid in my class. I made all the other children nervous when we played cowboys and indians because I always wanted to be the indian.. and I wanted my scalps. I attended an inner city middle school where there was ghetto justice. One day a kid spit on me and the teacher took us both out of the class and said, “Okay, now I’m going to give you the chance to do the same to him.”. I said, “I can’t.”. So the teacher told my parents and they rewarded me for it later. I was always misunderstood as a child. The reason I couldn’t spit on him was because I didn’t have enough saliva in my mouth. In high school I was an athlete, I ran track. My spanish teacher doubled as my track coach. I don’t know if it was the language barrier or the fact that he genuinely sucked but maybe it wasn’t a good idea to have your only male sprinter doing long distance endurance exercises. I think when I limped up to the starting line that might have tipped him off something wasn’t quite kosher, and not just because it was a catholic high school. Anyways, when the doctor put the cast on my broken leg that started at my big toe and ended at my upper thigh I was walking around like a peg leg. When everyone else said, “Good morning.”, I said, “Arrrr matey.” My first job was at the local newspaper as a feature writer slash artist. My last assignment was a cartoon featuring God as a short order cook with angels on roller skates in a diner, I titled it “Yaweh’s Fish and Chips.”. Who knew that at that time (which was around the late eighties), in the heart of the bible belt in the rural south, they didn’t have a sense of humor about their religion... ahead of their time I guess. My first car wreck was made by a camaro that left ninety feet of skid marks and still hit me hard enough to total my car. One life down, eight to go. I went to University of Tennessee for about as long as it takes you to blink. I was acing all my art classes and I thought to myself, “Why am I wasting time here (in this totally paid for university to get a degree which in the future I will totally regret dropping out of when I’m waiting tables for a living), when I could be making money in the real world?”. So, with a hundred dollars in my pocket, and a full tank of gas in my eighty nine toyota tercel I was off to conquer the world; cause that’s what you do when you’re nineteen. One of the coolest sights I’ve ever seen was when I rode through Arkansas and saw the moon in a night sky out of my front window and the sun in a day sky out of my back. I’m not saying that was an omen or anything but when I ended up living out of my car in the Oakland city garage, the symbolism was not lost on me. You know you’re poor when you go to Mc Donalds hoping there’s a special on one chicken mc nugget. And that’s how I ended up in the sales industry.. going door to door.. for ten hours a day.. six days a week.. for eight years. Why? Because I’m a masochist that’s why. Everybody thinks they’re a movie star in LA. That’s why I said in a measured cadence, “Calm down.” to the guy that robbed me at knife point on one stormy evening in Carson California. “Now let’s take it from the top, “Gimme your money!” with gusto. He had such a command performance I let him have the seventy dollar sales bonus that I won just that morning with my entire wallet. I was in the earthquake of ninety three. I’ve never surfed before but that was good enough, I didn’t even have to get out of bed. When my roommate looked up abruptly out of his sleep and said, “Was that an earthquake?”, I nearly responded, “No, I had bean burritos last night.” Come to think of it, the wave would have lasted longer. I was young and ambitious, I had a bright future in management laid out, mutual funds, savings, and a six year relationship that ended spectacularly when my then girlfriend decided she’d rather have a drunkard who got high everyday and was in and out of jail instead of my continued company. One of the greatest disappointments of my life... not the relationship ending, but my missing out on all that weed with the guy. When I had my first fight I probably would’ve won if I wasn’t out of shape,and if he wasn’t bigger than me, and I was in the mood. I’ve always known my limitations. My second car wreck, I was asleep in the passenger side and was awakened like a crash test dummy from my head hitting the windshield when we were hit by some russian guy. I don’t think he made it. More vodka and caviar for him in heaven I guess. I met two (at that time) living legends; Barry White(You know people really don’t look or sound like you think they do in real life, my uncle Edward sounded more like Barry White than Barry White did.), and Jack Kirby. Now there’s a collective nerdgasm when Jack Kirby’s name is mentioned just because he’s the king of all those superheros that the movies are based off of now. I think the only way a geek could top that is if they actually met a masked man prowling around on rooftops at night in a dark alley and didn’t get raped. I knocked on the door of the wife of one of the many screenwriters from titanic and she let me hold a real academy award. That. Was. Cool. I was introduced to the then head of Disney’s art department by another screenwriter and seeing as how I wrote screenplays myself and wasn’t too shabby on the line drawings I figured this was my big break. Finally all this struggling, and trials and not taking my eye off the ball will pay off. The moment came, we were in his office, he looked at my portfolio and said, “I see you have a basic understanding of anatomy.”. He then proceeded to scribble down several tech classes that would take me several years back in university to complete “..and then return and try again.” It was at this point the whole starving artist thing had run it’s course like a bottle of milk of magnesia after a molasses fondue. I left the sales industry for the restaurant industry to be a host at Chili’s in the Fort Lauderdale airport. The only thing I looked more forward to than a literal plane load of pissy passengers attempting to file into a seventy five person capacity restaurant is when an entire cruise ship load of pissy passengers try to file into a seventy five person capacity restaurant. On those days my self appointed official duty was to turn those frowns upside down, so by the time they entered into the restaurant they were more like werewolves instead of zombies from the “Living Dead”. We were always low on brains so it was a necessary evil. I was a regular Chilies Van Helsing. I went to Puerto Rico and became a cook after that; undeniably the worst year of my life. Puerto Ricans hate Dominicans( which are predominantly black), and they reeeeally hate americans that don’t speak spanish. So I was like the lucky lotto winner! This time when I was homeless there was no toyota to sleep in, just cement benches and an astounding need to pick up a smoking and drinking habit. That’s the only place where I manage to go from living in the street to living in a penthouse condo, to living beside a landfill. Oh, and you have not lived until you’re awakened in the middle of the night by Mickey, Minnie, and all their nephews because there is a golf ball sized hole in the wall for them to come visit you in the middle of the night during a hard tropical rain. I laid a mouse trap and would flick on the light to discover the cheese was gone.. and yes, I actually used cheese. Don’t judge me. All those Tom and Jerry cartoons had to be helpful somehow. I swear I heard the “Mission Impossible” theme song while the lights were off. When the music changed to the theme song from “Friday the 13th” and I flicked on the light to see these cockroaches that were as big as..well you remember those gargantuan bugs in “Starship Troopers”? Yeah, well double that. I was a tad bit hesitant to turn off the lights for the rest of the evening because I was expecting to wake up in the middle of a Stephen King novel. Then there was that little hurricane in ‘04. It was like the next morning trees were on power lines, concrete slabs were in windows, cars were parked way down the street from where they were the night before. I didn’t know if I was in a storm or on an episode of Punk’d. Hurricane Ashton was at it again. From that nightmare I went to Morocco. Funny thing about Morocco, it’s arabic. This was not too long after 911 so when I arrived the first thing I thought when I looked around was, “You in the wrong neighborhood homey.” So after that enlightening twenty four hours I headed to Italy. On my way there I entered a bar where I met an Irishman, a Scottish man, and a Spaniard.. no really. I said, “Which way to Italy?” I know you think I’m joking, but sadly I figured europeans looked like genuinely pleasant people and they might be able to point me in the right direction. The Irishman stared at me for a second and said in his distinctly Irish accent, “Are ya from tha UK or from America?” “I’m American.” He offered me a drink but I insisted on a coke. He stared at me again (I guess having a coke in a bar is universally frowned upon), he asked my name, invited me to sit, turned to the waitress and said, “Bring me a drink, bring them a drink, and bring Modi here a coke.”. “So why do ya wanna go ta Italy?”, “I’m a waiter.” “Ya don’t wanna go ta Italy, all they do is speak Italian, you wanna go to the Canary Islands. Nuth’n but Brits there. Waitress, bring me a drink, bring them a drink and bring Modi here a coke.” Apparently this is how they roll in that neck of the woods. After several rounds, I had to go and he said, “Well it’s been a pleasure meet’n ya Modi. Good luck on ya travels. We’ll have one for the rode. Waitress, bring me a drink, bring them a drink and bring Modi here a coke... and Modi is pick’n up the tab.”. And that my friends was my introduction to european hospitality. Once I arrived in the Canary Islands I got used to things that although seem a tad bit strange to me are really quite normal to the locals. Like how every season they have a constant swarm of large red locust that settle on the tiniest island. I kept expecting Moses to start demanding the release of his people. I saw real Shaolin Monks performing at the theater. When I realized that there wasn’t a crackle of electricity from the feedback off the mic but the bones of the seven hundred year old man doing the splits (I was suitably impressed), considering I woke up grabbing my aching back every morning. One night I saw the most terrifying biggest, reddest, moon I’ve ever witnessed. I don’t know how close the moon was to the earth that night, but I swore I could see Buzz Aldrin’s initials on the surface. It later turned into a very bright blue orb high up in a crystal clear starry night sky. Did I mention it’s way easier to get dates there then in America? But I digress. After serving for a while (and by a while I mean the beginning of a career I do to this very day), I headed to Australia. Sydney’s like New York only instead of “How ya do’n?”, it’s “G’day mate.”, and if the line for citizenship wasn’t as long as a football field full of DMV lines I probably would’ve stayed. I think the shaolin monk I saw doing the splits just got his papers. I stayed in this house that rented out six rooms, where one of my neighbors had tourettes and the other was a little asian drug dealer who went by the name of Zeus. One night, one of Zeus’s patrons knocked on his door. “Zooooos! Zooooooos!”. There was shouting, cursing, threats being made, and that was just the old lady down the hall... If I didn’t think I’d wound up being capped I would have said, ”I don’t care if you’re Thor or Hercules, shut up! I’m trying to sleep!” Once I returned to the states I wound up waiting tables in the Harley Davidson Cafe on the strip. Everybody thought I was so johnny on the spot because I carried around a beer bottle with me all the time. Actually I I was just staying prepared for the “What happens in vegas stays in vegas” crowd. I had a sprain when I attempted a move to M.C. Hammer’s “Don’t Touch This”.. I know it’s “Can’t” but that’s what I said to the doctor who upon seeing my softball sized sprain said in amazement, “What did you do to your ankle?!” I attended the AVN expo(that was a treat). Funny thing about porn stars, they’re actually just regular people who happen to have sex for a living. Who knew? I went to Tampa after that, where I stayed in yet another shit hole of an apartment. It’s interesting how what they called palm meadow bugs there are called big ass cock roaches everywhere else... And they flew. No joke there, just think about that for a second. Life was only getting better for me at that point. Like most places where I worked everyone typed me wrong; they assumed because I had good posture, I was christian or military, wrong on both accounts. They thought because I didn’t act like a thug I was gay, wrong again.. you know I wonder at what time in history between the nineteenth century and now that if a black man is sharp and articulate he’s either gay or the president of the united states? I’m always hesitant to let anyone know I’m vegan because then they’ll think I’m a unicorn. Later I moved to Austin, this is when the president was first sworn in. A proud day for me. I walked outside on a nice sunny day with my chest out and my head held high feeling good about life, and some bum walks by me and calls me the n-word. I think this is about the only time in my life I’ve had that racial epithet thrown at me and genuine laughter was my automatic response. Later I moved to San Antonio (which other than having the one restaurant where I did my best, get bought out and my apartment get broken into) I actually really enjoyed. Now I’m in San Diego. At last I’ve made it to a place where I can call home(It’s either this or the next stops Atlantis.). Ironically the reason I have time on my hands to write this is because I was fired from the Olive Garden for serving the wrong drink.. not that I miss serving endless soups, salads, and breadsticks, to gluttonous patrons for a whopping three dollars “Thanks for your troubles” gratuity all day, but still.. Eight years of serving around the world with so much as a write up, and five months in southern california and I get sacked like a bag of russets. The craziest thing about that place is at least half my coworkers were college graduates. I was just like them.. minus being thousands of dollars in school loan debt. Go figure. At any rate I’m sticking it out because of a dream I had. I hate it when people discuss dreams because they’re only subconscious regurgitations, whose only meaning can be determined by the dreamer. That being said, let me tell you about a dream I had...first off I should preface this by saying I cannot swim, and in my dreams when I (eventually) end up flying I fall. So, in my dream I’m in this warehouse and I hear these guys outside plotting to mug me. I became infuriated with the idea that it would be so easy, so I rush outside to confront them. All of a sudden, I’m in this outdoor hotel on slippery tiles with pools everywhere. I walk around one of these pools, I almost slip in the water, and you know what I did? I walked on that bitch. I walked on the water, like some passive aggressive messiah. It felt like walking on a soft mattress. I looked upward toward the night sky and I lifted off. Not like an ascension or anything, more like a rocket headed for outer space. And as I went higher and higher I began to go faster and faster until I cleared the top of the building and then I flew over the city streets searching for them, and anyone like them to vindicate their wrong doings. You know what I was not? I was not afraid. So anyways, I currently work for this temp agency doing waiting gigs on call. I feel like Antonio Banderas in the movie "Assassins" being contacted for a job for me to accept or not.. only instead of a mark sniped with a gun it's a guest served with a tray. I spend all my nights surfing craigslist, and all my days interviewing with these “job creators” who are advertising on craigslist for jobs that I’m totally qualified for, but for some reason have yet to hire me. I am not afraid. The saga continues...

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