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Slap-Boxing With Jesus

Move On Out

You ever think that the reason some people don’t leave the hood is due to the fact that the hood won’t let them? Think about it: why would anybody voluntarily want to live in some of the most decrepit, disgusting slums in the world? Obviously there’s the issue with poverty, low wages and mental retardation – the same of which inspire hilariously (not funny “ha-ha,” but funny in a “detrimental to society” kind of way) wrong things like, say, this video [1] I found last week.

Unless you work a job where your supervisor doesn’t give a shit, I highly suggest you watch that video in the comfort of your own home. Slap-Box M will not be responsible for anyone losing employment over that.

Anyways, the reason why I propose this question is due to a few recent experiences I’ve had over the past few months. Now that I’m finally ghost-riding the Metro Rail out of Inglewood, it’s literally felt that the “allure,” if you will, is trying to keep me from doing so, despite the fact I haven’t liked living here for a cool ass minute now.

Shortly after I found the place I’m going to be staying at, one of the main streets I take started undergoing construction, essentially jumping up my already long commute another ten minutes. Not a problem, since I’m usually awake before most of the yentas - outside of the day laborers – regardless. Then comes the fact that while I was checking up on the new spot last weekend, a series of funerals, cop cars and ambulance trucks stretched what’s usually a 30 minute drive to Downtown Los Angeles to an hour-plus.

But here’s the kicker: after living here for nearly three years, they built a sneaker spot within walking distance of me, and last Friday night I looked up in the sky and was able to see stars for the first time. Not to say that was some karmic, spiritual awakening or some frankincense hippie bullshit, but it’s almost as if the city is transforming itself in order to keep one of its denizens, or at least giving off the illusion that shit is still sweet. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing, had I not seen a number of break-ins at the high school across the street, jackasses parking their car in front of mine so that I can’t leave and the Twinkie-soft gang bangers that pop up every now and then. So that Asian fusion food joint that opened up can kiss my ass really.

But real talk has anybody felt as if the “allure” of the hood is what prevents him or her from exiting that bitch quickfast? Nevermind what any rapper – who contradicts themselves by rocking anus-tight, vice-grip muscle tees while rapping about living in the projects despite the fact they moved the fuck out once their t.I-sponsored royalty check gave them enough leeway to move next to the whitest people around – says; the hood is not the most comfortable setting to live or raise anybody in. The best (or worst, depending on your stance) part about this is the fact that my new apartment doesn’t have bars encasing the windows. I guess I should feel safer, but the shit makes me more paranoid than usual. I think the hood fucked me up something terrible, people.

[1] Did I forget to mention that that link is so not safe for work? Freak that bitch out, Tone!

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