I tweeted out my next show dates and a dude responded by saying that having sex with me must be like laying naked on a pile of Legos. A few hours later when I was a gas station a guy in line made fun of my Velcro wallet with baseballs on it. And then in the parking lot another guy laughed at my “new” car, a 1999 Plymouth Voyager.
It’s comforting to know that no matter how much magic stuff I do things never change in the real world.
A podcast told me that what you need to be happy are places to go, people to care about, and a purpose. The three Ps. I have tons of places to go. I go a different place every few days at least. I don’t think that’s what they meant.
It’s probably also cheating to say that I have people to care about because I’m saving the world all the time. That’s like when an old white dude refuses to agree that black lives matter because ALL lives matter. Missing the point
I think I can say I have a purpose. Royale and Obaluaiye gave it to me. Calling it an obligation makes it sound like a burden. It’s not. Maybe this sounds stupid but it’s a privilege. Truly it is. Not because it makes me special. Because it gives me a chance to make a difference.
My purpose to carry on their legacy.
