NARRATIVE AND INFORMAL STATEMENT:

 tend to wonder about my mother's reason for naming me "Bryan."

When I was younger and littler I didn't like my name because I thought it sounded too childish.

Something about it felt off. My father spelled my name with the Y instead of the I because "he didn't know how to spell my name." My mother said that. My mother was upset. She wanted my name spelled right. But I ended up liking Bryan when I found out that it was a last name some of my friends had, except their names ended with the T so I used to tell people that my name had a T in it. At first I didn't know how to pronounce my name until this girl I made out with behind her grandmother's couch thought me. She said BRRRRRAAAAAAEEEEEE EHNNNNNNNNNNNN. And then I was like aight I got it. And then I was like I like the way your tongue looks when you do that. And then we started making out again. Her tongue was super long, she could say my name so well. 

Her name was Rosie. Or Jocey, or maybe Lucy, one of those but I know, I'm sure her last name was Roselli. We used to play together, just like I play now. 

I was looking kinda blue the other day though…looking kinda like I didn't wanna play anymore cus I was mad tired and my shoes are always a little too big for me. My new clarks my mom got me for christmas hurt like a motherfucker but I'm trying to get used to the way they feel. I think I'm in denial about how big they fit. At work, at Urban Outfitters I have to stand and walk around while the store remains super empty because is never busy. I daydream but I don't like to look like I am when my boss comes around. The times goes slow and I kinda always wish that my hours get cut. I try my best to not get boners. 

Most of this blueness in my spirit comes from the bummer of thinking about sad ass shit all the time. Sad ass shit makes my day. I love being sad, sadness wakes me up in the morning, sadness makes  me feel like I'm the subject of a record by Nirvana or any band with a sad white boy as the lead singer. Maybe these sad white boys get to me. Maybe that kinda of sadness that I long to feel is directly associated with Kurt Cobain's sadness. His sadness influences my sadness. And that is why when I cry I always want it to be through a climactic circumstance, and if it rains, even better. Crying in the rain, with a hoodie, a mid hot coffee, my big clarks and a piece of paper with a few lines describing that exact moment in a metaphorical way would be the shit. It's truly a fantasy. A lot of boys I know love this routine. A lot of boys I know are articulate and write in a corky way. A lot of boys I know are articulate, write in a corky way, are sad all the time, and like to listen to three 6 mafia. A lot of boys I know tell me "Yo I love three 6 mafia, come see them with me, they're coming this month."

It's hard to tell my white friends that "I want to complicate my relationship with them." It's a nicer, more academic way of telling them that I have strong, weird feelings about them saying and doing stupid shit that only reinforces my annoyance and discomfort for whiteness; especially when a huge part of my circle of friends fall under it. This is also a better way of saying that I am seeking to use their whiteness for my benefit, to contribute to the type of work I am making in a more physical way. I like to call this "ally work" as a more academic and nicer way of seeing if they'll be down to look like pieces of shits for my art and in doing so, also looking "aware and progressive." Sometimes putting yourself in those positions of total sincerity defines somewhat of a fluid, cooky personality and makes further social exchanges more exciting and interesting. At least that's how I think about it. It makes me think of a time when a friend of mine told me that he used to masturbate to the sounds of his parents having sex, and that is why he now teaches vocal exercises or types of vocal relaxations. I felt then, as if he had granted me entrance into exploring the fucked up and great circumstances that made me who I am; because unfiltered honesty seems to be contagious. I knew that after that I could never lie to him without first telling him that I was going to lie. 

My way of being nice is to be academic. I want to cross my legs, touch my thin mustache and take big pauses when I speak because it justifies and validates my academic self. I have performed this figure so many times that I think it is now part of me. It is also fun to play the part. Acting and lying are two of my favorite things to do. I am a great actor only when I don't have to be. My best role to this day is a an angry brown kid. It's great. It's also the hardest role because again, my white friends be feeling uncomfortable but its whatever because all I gotta do is memorize a bit of theory that applies to my argument, paraphrase that shit and there it is; legitimized like a motherfucker. They love it. That takes me to another role which is the angry, SMART brown kid. This is even more difficult because I constantly have to provide sources. 

I'm enthralled by drama as a frustrated actor. I am a frustrated actor. In soup opera or a Gus Van Sant movie I would be a hot, but not so hot stud with family problems that smokes a bunch of cigarettes but still loves and loves so much that he kills himself at the end because he couldn't handle the feeling. I tend to put my self and other in situations that could trigger these fantasies; sometimes it works in a not so accurate way but they are still dramatic and cinematic. I love to sit and watch myself be watched. I fucking love it. I fucking love it so much. I am addicted to tension. I like to see people turn red because I can't.

When I'm drunk I ask people if they think I'm cute. I always want them to say yes.