Another Day at FedEx (August 2, 2005)

The best part about working at FedEx is never knowing who you’re going to meet. I was working the split at the belt with Robert when the horribly pretentious new Sort manager takes Robert over to belt 2, his new assignment being loading the home delivery and hewlett packard trucks. Then, this cat from the unload comes to help me on the split. He looks a little boho-ish, mostly because of the wild fro. It's not the type that is from being too lazy or cheap to cut your hair, it's not like mine it's more purposeful, like each strand of hair that stuck out was perfectly placed their right before he came to work. So we're splitting and chatting, find out his name is Dwight. We get to talking about our lives, how each of us ended up at fedEx; Roy told me everyone has a story. Dwight told me that he was going to MTSU before he dropped out, which I took to mean that he had been doing this kind of physical work ever since. I could tell he was smart though, smart enough to have easily gone through college several times; too smart to be doing this work without a very good reason. He told me he got a record deal with Columbia/Sony back in the day, which also caught me off guard because I figured he was some kind of independent musician; I had never met anyone who had been signed by a major label before. He told me that FedEx was just his parttime job and that he went around the world rhyming, in Japan, in Europe, across the States. I believed him; I don't think he thought I did because as we're splitting the small packages coming across the belt we come across one that is open and has a bunch of magazines going to Tower. He takes out one of them, it was either XXL or Urb and he flips through it. And there, right next to the picture of ?uestlove and Public Enemy is the man standing across from me, doing hard work like he was one of us commoners. Shit, he was loading up vans with boxes of magazines that had his fucking picture in them. I looked at the picture again, next to his picture printed in white letters was his stage name, Count Bass D. I stood back.... I couldn't believe it, I started to smile then laugh and then something in between. I couldn't believe it because I listened to him, ever since they wrote about his album in the Onion. Ever since I heard that there was this real nice cat out of Nashville called Count Bass D, right before I moved here. I would learn later about his days on the major label but to me he had always been just some underground figure head who was real nice at rhyming and at playing instruments and at making beats. Why was he working here? I knew that he didn't make a LOT of money, since he was on an indie label now, but with the shows he does (less now I guess because he has a family) I figure he has to pull in enough bank where he does not have to do this type of work. And I was right, he told me that rhyming more than pays the bills, but he was thinking about his family by working the night shift at FedEx. He needed a job with benefits and health insurance; he didn't make enough money where he did not have to worry about something catostrophic happening. That's something everyone has to respect, this cat has been in Rolling Stone and Vibe, makes critically acclaimed albums, has done music with so many incredible artists, travels all across the world playing music, and here he is, getting up at 2 in the morning, having me, a kid who buys his albums, teaching him the Belt 3 split and what boxes to pull so he can have health insurance for his children. That's just incredible to me, I hope if I ever do great things that I can be as unpretentious as that. I know it's gotta be killing him that rappers with 1/10th of his rhyming talent, 1/100th of his beat making skills, and 1/1000th of his music skills are making millions and buying yachts and are making sure their kids and grandkids are set for life. Or maybe its just killing me, the sacrifices that staying true and making art, doing something that you love the way you love to do it will have you make. It's the realization that you'll have to choose sometimes, between what you love and making money. It makes me so unsure about my future, because I do want to make money, so I can buy my mom a Jaguar and if I'm real good a house. But I know that loving history is not exactly the way to go to achieve that. I may be interested and I may love what I'm doing, but I've had my fill of Ramen noodles, I'm done with Spam, I don't want it to take 20 years, when all of my children have left for me to finally live comfortably. But then I see it from the otherside of things, that we only have one life to live. On my deathbed, it's not going to be important that I made a lot of money, the only way my money (if I have any) will comfort me is by allowing me to stay in a more expensive hospital. Otherwise, while I'm lying there, old, or maybe if I die in my sleep, I'll be comforted by knowing that I made the most out of my life, I did everything that I wanted to do and that the only reason that I'd HAVE to keep on living is to see what else the future will bring; and that's abhorringly selfish in my book since I'm taking up resources that could be devoted to a young person who still has so many years ahead of them. And really, there is no choice between the two; I just want to know what it feels like to be able to buy anything I want without having to worry. But I'm so happy that I got to work at FedEx, and this summer has been great, even if for only one reason.

I haven't heard a good EP in a LONG TIME. Well until today. I got the album from Dwight. I knew it was an EP from reading about it. For some reason, maybe the same reason that I like short stories, I sometimes prefer an EP to a full length LP. Great LP's are like great novels or a baseball season, a long winding road, filled with twists and turns, always have something unexpected and build gradually to a boiling point before releasing you. The end of either one is always an event as is the beginning, something that must be witnessed, heard, read or you've missed the whole point. Not that the middle is unimportant, since most of the time the best part is in the middle, but the tempo and mood are set by the beginning and the ending is the culmination of all of the pieces. Great Short stories and likewise EP's and episodes of Cowboy Bebop are like a burst, an NFL playoff game, you feel all of the action at once, using all of your senses in a few instances. The best short stories make you feel like you read a novels worth of material in a matter of pages. There really is no beginning or end, you're smacked into the middle, or you feel like you've been thrown into a murky mess and you have to find your way out. A great EP or short story leaves you something less than satisfied, like the first time I tasted Vanilla coke when it was 100 degrees outside and i was thirsy as hell. After I purchased it and took a small taste I guzzled it down in about 2 and a half seconds and I didn't know what to do after that, Im liked it that much. (It's a little strange when a drink has a profound effect on you). It's more than just being thirsty though, I could always get water or something else, it was a distinctive flavor, something I'd never try before and it would never be exactly the same again. I guess a more appropriate comparsion would be to that HBO movie (need to remember the name) with the Jewish restaurant and the people who worked there and how it hopped between each one of their lives telling their stories after they find out the restaurant is closing. I loved that movie, (even past the whole Jessica and me connection that that white girl and black dude had) it left me wanting to see more, it was accurately described as more like the pilot episode of some brilliant show than an actual movie.
I read Devil in a Blue Dress or listen to Blazing Arrow and I get the same feelings that I had before. I read a story by Chester Himes and it feels muted, never having quite the sensation. That's what Dwight's EP is going to feel like. It was sonically brilliant, the rhymes were ill when he was rhyming and Down Easy was a nice song. But it was just short and my ears will become less and less sensitive to its sound down the road. I'll always like it, I wanted more after it was over. People love and hate wanting more, if they're going to get more they love it, when there is no more they hate it. I've always liked the feeling either way, probaby more the latter than the former, because then I know how much of an effect it had on me.
Everytime I'm about to finish listening to one of my favorite albums (when its about to end) or I'm about to finish a really good book I always get this feeling, like a tingling, like nostalgia kicking up before I even have a chance to reminisce. Maybe because of some subconscious effort I'd rather read or hear something with no real end, no real beginning, just smack dab in the middle. Because really, all stories are always in the middle, everyones lives are lived in the middle. There are parts that are connected and things that have happened which are not in the scope of the story, but are still part of it. Our lives are really just really long short stories in an incredible big ass novel, I'm gonna stop before I start talking about ballets and shit.