The Diary of a Dark Horse

1. Happy Birthday Dark Horse

“Am I a butterfly dreaming of being a man or a man dreaming of being a butterfly?”

When the crust broke my eyes, and that massive yawn telling me to go back to sleep ended, I proceeded to move. This was a massive feat for someone who considerably was on the verge of being on WSB-TV for suicide. I didn’t know what came over me by just getting out of my bed, layered with clothing and parcels I hadn’t moved in weeks, but that little gesture was just another way of saying it’s not over yet. This wasn’t the first time. It’s the sixth time I’ve tried to date, but one thing has been clear to me after each time. Impulse simply wouldn’t do it. There has been no amount of alcohol that would subdue me, no hand brave enough to wield a blade and slit in the right places, no number of illicit drugs distorting my heart and mind to make me leap. So truly, not even a plan would really do it either. The truth was, yesterday, I came to the grand conclusion that I’ve been cowardly in finishing or keeping damn near anything significant; Like college, a job, a lover, etc.

It shows so clearly my present life. To a degree, I have a Masters in failing. This day may serve as a failure to yesterday’s mission, but truth is, today is a good day.

Today is my birthday! Whew to Aquarians or whatever… Cheers to aloofness and massive disillusion of the mind’s potentials and never-ending curiosities of life and death. To be honest, I always hated the concept of astrology. Fucking despise it really. The only reason I know about it is due to the influx of maggot brains I’ve been around, ranging from hippies, corporate baddies, Hoteps, and so forth who believe the cosmos predicts your conditions as a human being. Anyways… I proceeded to arise from the debris that makes its own layer above my comforter and weighted blanket. I had enough energy to get in the shower and scrub off the growing amount of dirt and grime that covers my body after days of neglecting myself. I know my teeth are yellowing from the amount of coffee and Lucky Strike cigarettes consumed daily, only to feel alive and rarely doing what’s necessary. Might help if I changed toothbrushes by now and bought better toothpaste. My hair, nappy as fuck. To look how you feel on your birthday could be regarded as a flex if you were at your best, but I was at the opposite end with mine. I didn’t want to move with much eagerness getting ready for a day that seemed as if it should be spent wandering the streets, looking for God or some shit. Time seemed warped to me as is. From waking, to moving to washing away of my sins.

I stood in that shower for the time it took my fingers to prune and the water, gradually, on its own, decreasing its temperature from hot to damn near cold. I spoke out loud once the shower hit the cold mark and before I turned it off “I deserve happiness for more than a week”. Genuinely, I believe every man, woman, or child deserves that fulfillment of the feeling. For me it felt like forever. For me it seemed like I lost it for good, like treasures of an uncharted land or submerged in the deepest blue. As I raised my foot from the shower, with the same speed of molasses falling from a tipped container, I heard 6 thunderous thumps at my apartment door. Most people where I live would be puzzled, maybe ridden with a certain anxiety that behind that door is a cop or an “opp” that got the drop in your location. I, on the other hand, slowly dropped off my slothy feet to the mat of my bathroom floor, taking my time and totally unconcerned. If it were either of the two, I would’ve just allowed it to be but to my surprise, a gift was on the other side.

At the door was my dearest friend in the world by the name of... Ax. Yes. Let’s just call her that, and for good reason. You see for as long as I’ve known Ax, she’s been this powerhouse of self-awareness and curiosity. On the same token, Ax was also this powerful force of persuasion as well, which means in our friendship she has been both a voice of reason and primarily the person I got in most of my trouble with when we were young. Genuinely, for 18 years, I looked towards her as more than a friend. She was indeed at times the sister I never had and low key the brother I never had either.

Still taking my dearest time going to answer that door. It felt like I needed an eternity to dry off, throw on my cotton and denim armor, a mask she wouldn’t be able to see through before she entered my desolate space. I knew it would only take a few seconds before she would roast me for the way it looked anyway. Surely, I was right. If you wanted to know how long it took to answer those 6 thumps at the door, it would’ve been the same time it took a real sloth to traverse, quite frankly, anywhere in nature. It’s my birthday for crying out loud. I should be moving with the spirit of something meant to fly high and soar. I heard one more thump.

“Damn nigga you good or what?” she asked with outspokenness and force followed by a “It’s your birthday you’ll be aight trust me”. I sighed at my inability to answer for myself if I were good or not. You know what they say, “no response is a response”. Ax just happened to be one of the few people in my life that hasn’t given up on me for how prolonged my low moods have been. The mask proceeded to morph into a fake smirk. My eyebrows are parallel with no vertical movement. I couldn’t compute in that moment; is faking emotions harder than trying to be emotionless?

“I don’t know what’s been going on with you bro, and to be real, it doesn’t matter right now. Get flee, put on a smile, and get out of your comfort zone nigga! We have life to celebrate!”

She was right about that. The least I could do was continue getting ready for a day of possibly smiling and getting off a nice outfit, but it would be a maximum effort on my end to truly get out of my comfort zone, all and all. I mean it would already seem to be that I’m out of it. You know?

It took me about an hour to do the simplest of self-care tasks. It didn’t help that I destroyed my iron yesterday in a frenzy before attempting to end it, so I just put on my usual uniform; a puffer jacket, a camo BDU shirt, dark Levi’s, and converse. She came inside and sat down in the cleanest region of my room, my desk. She lit up a Backwood of something dank and proceeded to face it. Once I was fully dressed and ready, she began to cut through me. Coughing up a lung, with incoming sarcasm to follow she gained her breath, she said snidely “You can’t seriously want to wear that outfit again Al?” I had no reply. I got used to wearing the same clothes after I lost motivation to change. “Bro, I got you today. Something is obviously up, and you don’t have to say much. Just smile and be thankful for everything to come.”

Hearing that come from the voice of reason made me utter my first words of the day

“You’re right, Ax.”

Leaving my apartment might’ve been the smartest thing I’ve done since I decided to begin compiling my thoughts. Atlanta had its own special gloom. I didn’t need the dark clouds that lingered in my room to grow any further to the size of a stratocumulus. It’s usually mixy weather here in February so I didn’t expect optimal weather. Like I said before, I didn’t plan to be here today, yesterday. An exit is an entrance to something, and after putting on my armor and mask, also reneging on a thought to be sober, I hit her blunt and locked the storm away. We traversed down the long hallway that leads to the garage. Her car was this very distinct Acura Integra. Mustard yellow, 3 hubcaps remaining, an assortment of stickers going across the bumper, and a chipped spoiler. Most people, including our mutual friends, would hate to be seen in this car. But to me, the eye sore that is Isis to her, was a chariot for me. I always knew I could count on Ax to deliver a time to me by just being her passenger. From her perfect shifting to erratic driving with a mix of her tunes, it was always like she took me out on dates to simply love life as it is.

“First things first, Grindhouse Killer Burgers!” she exclaimed with jubilance as she proceeded to start up Isis. For once, the sun shines in the form of a decent smile for me. She looked over and had the smirk of our favorite emoji. Ax wasn’t always charming and nice like this. I know it stems from her upbringing in North Philly, but as I developed this long friendship, I guess I managed to open up a soft spot for her. “Thank you, Ax. For everything” I stated solemnly, continuing wearing the mask of shame. She looked over at me once more, with the same smirk, and exclaimed “No sweat off my back bul! My love is free!”. “So, let’s wipe this gloom off once and for all my nigga. Let’s go!”

She adjusted her Phillies fitted, started to play “My Love is Free” by Double Exposure, a Philly favorite, and proceeded to clutch from neutral to first.

The best thing about today so far is the love I’m receiving from a friend who didn’t have to do anything for me and the fact that Atlanta has minimal traffic. The roads were clear, the gloom encompassing the sky was beginning to dissipate, funky music playing, and morsels of meat between bread awaited! Things aren’t moving slowly now. It’s turning to move at the speed meant for me. The muscles in my face and body, less tense. I finally felt safe and loved again. We all know how those feelings could flee or be lost in translation when you’ve hit a deep trough in life, and what was apparent to me today is that a real friend’s love and endearment is truly free. That whole scenario from the thumps of my door, her patience and grace, to us navigating the obstacle course of potholes, dents, and metal plates, with this exceptional example of Black musical royalty was already enough for me. Love is a special currency, like energy. It’s always there somehow, and even when in your own life it may seem missing, all you have to do is spend more time loving the moments of life at its barest minimum. We are all, with a sense of hope and virtue, inherently rich with love. Our debt may be our own contempt for ourselves.

It took us little to no time to get to Grindhouse from my apartment downtown. To add, very few people were there at the restaurant. “Beautiful” was all I said as we pulled into our parking spot. She brazenly put the manual car in park, disengaged the auxiliary, and swiped out the key. “Yo honestly, imma order the whole cow” was all she said before slamming the door rushing into the restaurant without me. An Ax move indeed. I loved her eagerness, sometimes. Slowly walked up the stairs to meet her inside. Before I made it in, I realized I forgot my wallet at home. The somewhat good mood began to drop, not like a plummet but more like a mercury gauge. It’s not because of the wallet itself, it’s the realization that I barely had money anyways to do anything for myself, even if I had it. Before I even made it in with my forlorn look, Ax had already ordered for both of us. The gesture again brought me to a realization, it may have cost something, but her love was truly free.

“After we eat these burgers and fries, I’mma take you to get a card reading. That should open your eyes to something better hopefully.”

“You know I don’t like all that astrological mumbo jumbo.”

“Well nigga, what are you doing today?”

“I’m living... and going with the flow Ax”

She stared at me, long and thoroughly, acknowledging my resistance to most things good but not once pointing judgment. I didn’t realize what a card reading was anyway. I was just set in my ways, my mind about certain things in life. Seems pointless to me, but maybe Ax has a point to prove. She clasped her hands like a Donna, leaned back continuing her gaze and voila, our food arrived. Thanks were given to our waitress, and before I could reach for a fry, Ax was going into a frenzy over the food! This sight alone brought back the strength in my face to go from a low smirk to a calm smile. It was a reminder of the childlike essence I felt mostly around her. We used to have speed eating competitions of our favorite snacks and foods, and nine times out of ten, she’d be winning.

Periodically while I ate, I would glance at her, not glancing at me, and wonder how I deserved a friend like this?

“You think the tarot reader will pull out good cards for me Ax?”

I nervously inquired. She looked at me, munching up cheese fries and a Cowboy burger, chewing hard as fuck only to reply with “No motherfucker they won’t be”.

A silence lingered for about 3 seconds.

“Your cards are going to be fucking life changing bul!” Now I feel my face having the courage to rise. I fleshed out my first real smile at that restaurant, and proceeded to devour the rest of my meal, still not fully believing in the cards but believing in a friend.

A ray of light danced between shadows locking its crosshairs onto us through tinted windows. Hope was the golden sun pushing the gray into blue. I uttered the words “Thank you God”. She looked up at me, and told me “God is everywhere and everything bul. Even this food was godly! It’s good to see you, Al”. We smiled and laughed with each other for a bit. I was in the presence of God indeed and my hope for God’s will is returning in the smallest ways, slowly but surely. I should be thankful for that. We placed our rubbish down and hopped out the door, right back into Isis.

We sat for a second before she turned on the car. She scrolled endlessly through her music app to find the right song. One thing I knew about Ax and her car was she would not drive off without making a decision on music. It helped her drive better like she was the female Baby Driver. It goes from raspy exhaust note to Alice Coltrane’s Journey to Satchidananda in a matter of seconds.

The road to the card reading was clearer. Even clearer than our road to lunch. An immaculate brewing of energy was present. Music like this only makes you seek out energy as is. Mine was giving confused melancholic, while hers was assured optimist. Ax was the Yang to my Yin. Interesting dynamic, but it worked and has always worked this way.

“I wonder if you’ll get The Devil card at some point.” she says with a slight giggle. To my lack of knowledge and the gall to figure out any of this before, it was fair of me to ask then “is that a good card to have?” She replied, “it really depends on the circumstance and reason.” It’s super ironic and makes me curious how we went from godly eating to the possibility of Satan being on my cards. It enthralled me a bit more, for my ignorance of this knowledge has possibly prevented me from seeing in a new way.

We continue to navigate the rainbow roads of Atlanta, finding ourselves in Old Fourth Ward rather than Midtown. I almost wanted to say I didn’t know off any card readers in the hood, but I forget gentrification is indeed a real thing. Still a short journey if you know these streets. A 7-minute ride in Isis. Enough to play the song in full and riddle my nervous system. I am feeling quite calmed by it all at this point of the day. She spotted a parallel spot to park and swung the car into it perfectly. It always is pleasing to exit a car to the smell of trees in the subtle air and the mix of an old clutch being burned. I’m alive and well. It’s a realization that remains a constant until you’re not either. “Why are we in front of Telephone Factory Lofts?” I inquired as if I didn’t know already. She exclaimed to me “The Tarot Reader is in this building. I heard she’s really the truth bro!”

“Are you also getting your cards read?” I asked with uncertainty.

“No. I’m taking you so you can open up your eyes. Besides, it’s your day. I need you to see new horizons. Happiness for more than a week like you always say.”

I felt that, with my broken and bandaged soul. And before we entered the building, I began to peel away the mask I put on to cast my truths away. I knew before I met the reader, I’d have to at least respect the person by being in my full truth. Telephone Factory Loft's interior had the looks of a mid-war brutalist bomb shelter. It had a rich history in the city for being a haven for the so-called hippies, established artists, working architects and famed writers. I could feel the spirits of many within, even with the struggle of feeling myself. Ax and I got on an elevator to the 4th floor, the top floor, and immediately began to smell the burning of sage, lavender, and Palo Santo while rising in it. Even a bit of marijuana floated in the air. That was the trail of clairvoyance to follow. With no surprise, at the end of the hall was a black door. Its facade, also black. The only adornment was a crystal, from my random access memory of a maggot brain telling me about rocks, black Tourmaline.

“This is it, Al” she said in a relaxed tone. I stared at that door. It’s etched in memory. I was to enter a room, and potentially exit anew.

We took a few steps out of the elevator, and by the time we were nearing to knock, a Asian woman with magically colored hair wearing a distinct silk robe answered shouting out “Welcome Alan Simmons to the first day of your young life!”

I took a moment to not be confused. To think about how she knew my name. Of course, it’s because a friend already stated it.

“Do not be afraid of yourself, taking an entrance in only to exit out anew.” She said with a different tone and her arms extended to me. There was no hesitation on her part to get me riled in, but I did notice she looked at Ax with a certain peculiarity, as if Ax was The devil card she wondered I’d receive.

“Alan, I’m going to make this session quick and concise, for your friend here got you the basic package of my readings. Please have a seat on this special throne. Relax yourself. Know that whatever cards you choose are already destined for you. You aren’t doing any picking at all.”

The Tarot Reader seems like she’s finessing but once again, I am ignorant to this. I let go of it and adjusted, not saying anything, just listening to all she had to say. Ax stood aside, wandering around The Tarot Reader’s space while occasionally giving thumbs up anytime I glanced at her nervously.

“Are you ready to unveil yourself?” Asked The Tarot Reader. At that moment I had to decide, have I been willfully ignorant because I don’t want my cards pulled or was I just afraid I would get confirmation that my life is shit, and there’s no hope of making it sugar.

“Proceed” I said with solemnity and a bit of doubt.

She placed 3 decks of cards in front of me. I reached towards them, and she smacked my hand away.

“No. Do not touch them yet. I’m reading through you. I see the energy of someone bigger than life. This will take time.”

I could only be try to be okay with hearing such statements.

No offense taken by the velocity of the hand swipe. After a moment, more like 6 or so minutes, she then began to shuffle each of the decks, with random swift movements while staring deep past the sclera and corneas of my eyes. When she finished the shuffling of the decks, she then told me “Behold, a dark horse”. My eyes opened larger than a person with Graves’ disease. Those two words were my identity. It baffled me that she knew so much before knowing me.

“Choose from this deck first, Dark Horse. I’ll only speak to you by the title of your spirit. You are no longer Alan Simmons after this moment. You’re who The Universe deems you to be, yet you’ve spent far too long without galloping towards your destiny. It’s incredibly bright. You dim your own light sometimes. It happens but see forth a pattern by pulling from this deck here”. So, I pulled 5 cards. In front of me was my throat chakra being blocked of expression, a magnifying glass card stating I had an angry self, a past life card denoting I was a scientist of sorts, an affirmation card telling me I’m not responsible for my family (hard pill to swallow), and a card telling me “My thoughts were like a magnet watch how you think”. This didn’t seem very tarot-like to me. In fact, the only card I know of is The Devil thanks to Ax. “Wow” I said unenthused and not particularly riled in now of the unveil. She nods slowly at my reaction, then grabs my hand to place over the second deck. This is when she asked a question only I’ve felt I’ve seen before being asked.

“Are you a butterfly dreaming of being a man or a man dreaming of being a butterfly?”

Incredibly shocked someone else knew of James Lee Byars. More shocked that she knew the exact philosophical question from his book that I’ve pondered over for some time. I froze for quite some time, contemplating deeply over that answer. And silence engulfed the room, until I raised my voice for the first time in a very long time, this time not out of anger but with great surprise to The Tarot Reader. She already had me by stating I’m a Dark Horse, but now this is freaky. I mean what are the odds of it all? Is this God ridding me of my own ignorance towards these esoteric concepts? Is this going to be the moment that the devil card is exposed? It’s not that linear. Upon the end of my flabbergasted expression to her, she then said to me “why are you surprised there is a stranger who knows you deeper than yourself, when many days you treat the universe as if it is a stranger to you?” Thought provoking, the question was and for the second time today, time moves slowly but this isn’t at all me being the animal or the sin I feel I’ve become.

“I don’t know why I’m here. Not in this room, but in this life.” Was my response to it. I had nothing I could genuinely ask without sounding foolish, so I went with what I felt. She once again locked her eyes onto mine, piercing them with the force of America’s favorite superhero... Peter Parker (insert sarcasm on behalf of Clark Kent here). It was quite intimidating. I was vulnerable to this magical mage. I also felt I was getting high being in the room filled with a gamut of aromatic bliss. I then gazed into the giant loft space to look for Ax, but she wasn’t there. She disappeared from my sight. I felt something in her absence — something like a premonition.

Then, The Tarot Reader got up from her seat. She walked backwards to keep eye contact with me. With a slow and steady recede, she reached the farthest corner of the room, closing her blinds. She then turned off every light besides the one that hovered over the table, blew out the candles and other aromatics of the room. My anxiety now, through the roof. I’m used to receiving bad news and used to having negative experiences overshadow all good in my life. I just felt at that moment I wasn’t ready to receive bad news in any other way.

She then sat at the table, only a vignette of light shining onto her face with a glare sparking from her glasses. And as she remained steadfast to the eye contact given, it was then my intuition told me this would not be good.

These words spoken by her echo in my mind.

“Listen Dark Horse and feel closely. I no longer need to read your cards. In fact, the next deck contains the card you’ve been dreading to see. Don’t think too hard about it. Its properties are not just for her. It’s for many around you. If you take heed of this, you won’t request for the cards to be shown. Because at the end of the day, you won’t go home and research all these cards. You’ll only be concerned with the devil. That’s very telling of where you are now. So, choose what you’d rather see in your life from this moment forward.”

Do I need to express again what speed time traveled after that was all said and done? Quite frankly, my intuition, my subconscious mind and spirit were confused altogether. I don’t know this woman from a grain of salt. My friend did all of this on my birthday for The Tarot Reader to basically infer “Ax will cut you somehow.” The moment seemed like life or death, a choosing of two different color pills, or an ultimatum of sorts. Ax is still somewhere in this loft, out of sight and out of mind for before I answered I could smell the aroma of weed nearing the guest bathroom and a separate room. I told The Tarot Reader “you’re my ally”. Her then serious gaze became a childlike, jovial smile. Making way from the table, with that same mysterious deck of cards in hand, she then began to adjust the setting of the space to how it once was. Her voice changed from solemn to the pitch she presented herself to me with, as if I dealt with an encounter of Jekyll & Hyde. And the voice of the hour spoke; “Man I’m high as fuck”.

This room may be bright, but now it presents an elephant in the room to be questioned. It wasn’t Ax, who arose from a smoked-out bathroom or The Tarot Reader whose intuition of my life made me wonder if I made a wise or regretful decision. I am the elephant in the room. Only man, only one who is unassured and certainly someone who is now very afraid of both the perceived intuitive analysis of a stranger mixed with the signals that Ax is someone who was about to change the trajectory of my life. Both The Tarot Reader and I looked at her. I felt the fake look and to Ax, she looked at me square with those golden-brown eyes mixed with a hint of red as if she were sobered by my gaze, shaped by nervousness. “Well, how’d it go Al? Did you see the card?” she asked with a bit of a geeked giggle.

As I attempted to speak, The Tarot Reader interjected with the same phoniness by telling her “Actually, Dark Horse received The Fool, Hanged Man, Knight of Pentacles, a few wands and yes, The Devil card. His life will be changing drastically in 3 or so months and so will yours.” After her statement came a maleficent-like laugh that prompted my anxiety to reach Everest heights. The anxiety of trust being muddled with. The anxiety of unknowns coming to life. Ax looked at The Tarot Reader with a distinct look of disdain then looked at me rolling her eyes.

“Come on Al. Lets ditch this… weird popsicle stand.”

The Tarot Readers' response to that was “I’m sorry you feel that way. Thank you for your token of belief in my service miss and I hope you rethink that statement when we come face to face, very very soon” and gave me a wink. Oh my god… this isn’t what I planned for. “Bitch, what the fuck are you talkin’ about?”, irately exclaimed by Ax. “Let’s go Al!” I glanced at this mysterious woman for one more time as Ax proceeded to rip me from the table to exit the confides.

Behind me now was the black facade I entered in, in front of me was daylight that began to feel like the coming of an eclipse, and beside me was a friend who I still appreciate but now wonder if there’s truth to The Tarot Reader’s statements.

Hallways, the short elevator ride, and the exit were met with only the sounds of our sneakers, machinery, other tenants and people. There wasn't a single word said as we made our way to Isis. Our silence was a cacophony to me, ranging with chords only a Sun Ra or Peter Brötzmann Octet could provide, but I shortly came to terms of how high she was. Living in her moment and I, in mine. I don’t know, it just felt like we captured the wrath of the coming future, together. Maybe that was pessimism seeping into me or I’m just tripping from the slight high I retained from earlier. Either way, I’ve gone from that experience and entered into the possibilities 3 months of time can offer. With my current, dilapidated mental black and white thoughts ring like will it be all I have left or the beginning of an incredible experience, in the coming of my best self.

When we made it to Isis, Ax’s car for reminders sake, I couldn’t help but break the silence.

“Do you love me?” I asked as if I lost my assurance. She looked at me and scoffed like I didn’t know. I get it. I mean she was the only person who did something for me for my birthday.

“Alan, if I made it clearer than what it is right now, you’d fear my love. But I do love you, like my brotha. Dig?”

“Dig.”

“I know why it’s been very hard for you to trust where the love comes from, but always know my nigga, I’ll do anything and everything for you. I promise you that.”

In that moment, confusion was taken further. I began to really wonder, what did she mean by any and everything at this point? Why would I be scared? Only calming to this scene was the car starting and Kid Cudi’s humming through the speakers. The journey back to my abode made me wonder, was I to be a speeding bullet to heaven or a nuke to hell? I sure hope the feelings of all are resolved with clarity. Let’s give this life analysis thing a real try. If what that mysterious woman says comes into my reality at any point, I’m for sure going to see what the fuck she is talking about. Until then... I shall write.