back when i was R&B

there was a time when i wasnt so scruffy looking. when i didnt look like a homeless lumberjack on angeldust or a hip hop sasquatch that just woke up. in fact, i used to be what the homies called a "pretty motherfucker," right before they punched me in the face. i used to give a shit how i looked. i used to be straight R&B.

of course this was just one of my many phases, before i turned into a backpacking underground hip hop pansy and before i turned into a glowstick twirling acid and extacy munching raver punk. before i turned into a fingernail painting all black wearing indie rock nerd and before i turned into a brooding techno DJ chump. before all that shit. this was yet another one of the many identities that make up the sparkling character that is I: jon.

yep. for a little while, i was a well groomed, fast talking, quick witted, panty liberator. from what everyone said, i most resembled oft forgotten, talent deficient, late 80s crooner Al B. Sure! chicas would faint at the sight of me. girls would trip over themselves just to wipe up the activator juice that dripped from my head. pregnant women had their water break when i entered the room [this proved an ill fated curse one day when walking past planned parenthood. man, that was a real mess]. if and when i went to class, my teachers would forget their lesson plan and just gaze longingly into my brown eyes. guys, upon shaking my hand, would get sexually confused and either run away or take a swing at me. -teenagers, i would sigh, watching them flee or wiping blood from my nose.

but my perfectly manicured good looks and the vapid bunch it attracted eventually bored me, and i chucked the silk shirts and loafers, let my beard grow and threw on a hat. what stuck with me, even though the image got abandon, was the music. most deservingly, Prince's masterpiece "Sign o' The Times." that didnt come out when i was in my R&B phase, but during said phase i listened to it more than anything else, and it definitely defined what i aspired to illustrate with my deftly crafted appearance.

and the moral of this stupid post: i gotta do something about my hair. im getting sick of it. i think im gonna dread it or something. you ladies better hope i dont get some curl activator though, if i do, i advise you carry another pair of underwear around with you just in case i cross your path. it would suck to walk around the rest of the day in squishy drawers. oh yeah, and go listen to sign o the times, it is probably better than what your listening to right now.