When I lived in The Bronx, I was… certainly taken by surprise. It was 9th grade. I went from Rice (124th and Lenox, Harlem) to my old neighborhood park (123rd and Tiemann, Harlem) after detention. I had some time before mom got home to know I was in detention, so I moseyed on over there. It was here where I “randomly” found… what devilishly became “my favorite game”:
Diablo II
It’s not quite an RPG, and it’s not quite Zelda. Still, I swore by this game and did what I could to keep from being in detention (to get home and play it). I still got caught up with bullshit in class, still ended up in detention, and because I wrote awesome essays I was able to keep my computer. Other than that, it would be out the window (the way my mom played it). Speaking of mom, I had to hide the game from her FOR REAL. She was a HARDCORE Christian, and BARELY let me play video games (she knew about my SEGA obsession; said it was unhealthy). The damn game was called Diablo. Fuck the fact it was a sequel.
I had a demo of Sonic Adventure. Came with the Dreamcast. But my Genesis was long since lost from our apartment on Broadway (we lived in Brooklyn for a few months; Brownsville). My search for the proverbial “fucking Genesis” is really me finding the time and space for my innocence.
In a way, Harlem groomed me. I measure everything in “ayos”, “pauses” and “no homos”. This is somewhat embedded in me, despite Downtown’s pleas for me to keep an open mind. Im glad they did, I just wish they knew that such is why I’m missing out. Now, the love of Harlem has to trump my love of self. And it was Harlem that embedded #conceit, circa Cam’ron.
I’m not really that conceited. I just have high standards. Set by self and the environment I developed self in. Trust me. People have come to Harlem expecting a village of Pure Charles Hamiltons.
My, how they missed the apostrophe.
~Enter the Hamilton~
