THE CHOP SHOP SESSIONS NO. #001

:: BACK DOWN MEMORY LANE PT. I ::

Track Playing: “How Will I Know” Whitney Houston

How will I know (Don't trust your feelings)
How will I know
How will I know (Love can be deceiving)
How will I know
How will I know if he really loves me

I say a prayer with every heart beat
I fall in love whenever we meet
I'm asking you what you know about these things
How will I know if he's thinking of me
I try to phone but I'm too shy (can't speak)
Falling in love is all bitter sweet
This love is strong why do I feel weak

...................

The music played throughout the whole floor of the apartment, although its origin was where we lived at, a few doors down on the current floor. At the age of only a few months being brought into this curious world and unknowingly to the cruel reality, I sat happily as my grandmother sung her heart out, mimicking the sounds of the once, great Whitney Houston”. I986, that was a huge track that had made ‘top tens’ everywhere it played. Being in the prime of her success, she was a favorite of everyone, Grandma’ especially. Along with Whitney was the ‘Harlem Shuffle’ dance that everyone was really hyped about and did it on a consistent basis.

Being transported here from Harlem the traveling was all new to me. Being six months, everything was brand new. The abstract noises, the sounds of different languages and much more had sped up my process in the world. Shipped off to my grandmother in Miami. That was the beginning to my creation this day. I fell into the long line of residents who were living in Miami under the same ethnicity.

The main thing that kept Miami high on the charts was the famous “Beach scene” that is like the Eiffel Tower in Paris, but much more elite. It created musicians, comedians, dancers, all kinds of creations. My grandmother raised me until the age peaked and hit the red line, illuminating to let me know that I was a full-fledged man. She had to do nothing more than to make sure I was alright and safe at all times. I love my mother, but she didn’t do shit. Sad to say it, she gave me life, but as far as caring, she shipped me off, right to her mother.

"Here ... Take him”

Those words were what uttered from her mouth as she boarded back onto the Greyhound bus and onto the plane headed back with no responsibilities to Harlem. She lost my respect. My grandmother, at her age, she took better care of me than anyone else. I couldn't pay her back unless I had the power of the universe. Money was invaluable to be honest. Wiping my shitty ass, and pampering me to stay quiet and stay atop of homework in class. That was invaluable to just give her cash. She was fifty fucking years old. She would've just given it to charity instead of spending it on herself.

Being able to communicate was inoperable. All I could even whisper out was muttering and stuttering or confusion. It sounded as if duck tape was across my mouth as I tried speaking. Although she took to understanding it as her wise ears broke it down into simplicity.

Without her, I would either be in jail or the damn grave. I got to live my life how I wanted it, although it was troublesome, I would not take it back for anything. Lessons were obviously learned as I grew wiser and wiser everyday. Everyday she stays in my head, like a guidance tool. Sometimes it gets ignored, but I can never say I didn't hear her words.

...................


JUNE 29TH 2011
“BACK ON THE SADDLE”

Flashing back ...

Destined for stardom since the age of eighteen. Affiliated with some illegal underground boxing league that was held under one of the old, run down warehouses in the district of Miami. After two years straight, untouched and completely dominating the punks that strolled through, my name was already placed in the hall of fame records of the circuit. I was a “money maker” for the gamblers.

“That kid TJ Banks ... That kid is unstoppable, my money is on him!”

The sound of cheers and knuckles being broke made me one rich kid at eighteen. By the age of twenty, I was already pushing in the high figures, six zero’s. They got theirs and gave me my cut. Food, clothes, rest in the house for monthly payments. My grandmother knew nothing of it, all she could see it as was that I had a good job that was paying out good amount of money.

By twenty one, I was headed to the professional ranks of boxing, but with some rejecting to see my face in their promotion, it was nothing but a lost cause. Two years of being undefeated in an illegal underground boxing league to being rejected to the only dream I had going for me at the time.

That’s where my mind began scrambling ideas.

The sport “wrestling” came into play from word of mouth. They said it could be a huge landing spot for me. Not too many ‘boxers’ come through and enter themselves into the sport of wrestling, it wasn’t in their DNA. Their movements were below average when it came to the quick movement in the ring. That’s where I made it my direct focus to become the first and only to transition from a boxer to a full-fledged wrestler. Trainer Louie Travesco aka “The Bull”, one of Miami’s well-known trainers in the profession of Wrestling. He was the piece to the puzzle that re-ignited my dead-end career. He showed me the in’s and out’s to the profession.

After months of training, I had my first match at some local Miami school that had the gymnasium with a ring. A ten minute time limit match, just to “test” my newfound skills and see where I ranked.

When the bell rung, it was over, a quick snap suplex ended it all. Five seconds in, the match was quickly over. It was hard to digest down in believing but it was the plain truth. I just fought my first opponent with a snap suplex and totally ended him in under ten seconds.

Amazing.

The next day, I was given notice that a small Indy company out in Southern California liked what they saw on tape and wanted to give me a walk-in tryout against one of their own. Taking the trip, it was nothing more than handling business and getting that check with my deserved amount in the end. I had to provide not only for my grandmother but for me in the long run. She was seventy-something years old, her time wouldn’t remain forever, so I had to have something stashed for myself.

The first impression meant everything to me. With the tools under my possession, whatever this company threw at me, it would be defeated. I wasn’t one who liked to lose. I hated losing. I was all about competition. Their challenge towards me was ...

A 375 pound giant who stood near seven feet named, “Brutus”.

Twice my size, almost a foot higher than me, I felt a bit uncomfortable but as I measured him up and down, I came to the conclusion that every man has a weakness somewhere besides grabbing or kicking them in the balls. There were other available spots that didn’t garnish a disqualification. With a few punches to his mid-section, nothing seemed to take effect.

“Go ahead Teige ... You can take him!”

Pushing me on with their side chants, I shook my head in feeling intimidated. I couldn’t reach any of the “soft spots’ but with a few more punches, an attempted irish whip, it was concluded that there was nothing that was going to move this man. Kicking him in the mid-section, he doubled over a bit but nothing to where I could get him to my height.

With another kick to the abdomen, he began to feel it somewhat. Doing so, with a jumping leap up, I wrapped around the big boulder of what was his head as I hung on, locking him some fucked up submission. Being huge and tall, it was a disadvantage being that you couldn’t move much when in situations like this. The head, size of a Bullmaster, there was no such thing as a “neck”. Squeezing tight like squeezing out the last bit of toothpaste from a tube, he began to falter.

Fatigue was such a huge factor in barriers like this man. With minutes holding onto him and around his head, it was becoming harder to breathe. Falling down to one knee, it later went to two knees. On my feet, his head was inside of my arm, as I had this damn headlock on tight. Dropping back with a blatant DDT, a shot impacting his head he was left there, motionless. Standing to my feet, they looked at the near seven foot monster as they were appalled by what just happened.

“Damn kid ... You are “one of a kind”!”

The slight middle-aged man said, stating on the fact of his high prospect being dominated in just a headlock and a DDT.

“So ... do we have a deal?”

My trainer asked, as he tapped his hands issuing the check to be in his hands. The man nodded his head upon the dislike of his top man being totally defeated in a few minutes.

“I guess we do, Sir!”

Replying, he took out the padded white envelope handing it over to Louie as a smile had spread across his face. Opening the envelope, re-counting the sum of money inside that was full of twenties and fifties, he reached in and took some out handing it my way.

“Treat yourself to something nice, kid!”

Sticking it in my pocket, I smiled as well. Closing the envelope and sticking it in his rear pocket, he bowed before turning around.

“Nice doing business with you ...”

The scene faded.

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The Present ...
December 27th / 9:59:44 AM

It was never thought of, the quickness in re-applying myself back into the business in only a short, two month absence from the ring. A short rest that gave me some time to realize what I wanted, the future, and my family. Yes, family. A year and a half old daughter who respectively isn’t even mines. The infamous “Maury Story”.

When you come home from a tough day at work, hurrying home to see your girlfriend, and the first sight you see when you open the front door is your soon to be wife with your childhood friend on the couch having it out. Become pregnant and for months figuring who the father is. An actual appearance on Maury’s television show in embarrassment to find that the baby was indeed my once, childhood friend. Yet come to find out, he goes missing the day after and hasn’t been heard of since that day.

So here I am, handling someone else’s child with my ex at the helm of it all. A full year of not even speaking to her, as I couldn’t bear to speak with her with the torment she put through on me. All I had done, supporting her and all, and that happens. Meeting her when I was eighteen, six years we had until that point.

Yet somehow here I stood sorrowful for her ‘struggles’. Why? I had a heart. A ‘street hustler’ who was in for the fame and money. Hardly any friends, I treated them all as associates. I couldn’t show heart as it would be a weakness in striving to survive.

Sitting up on the edge of the recently purchased “Tempur-Pedic” Mattress that had been heavily advertised over the years, I finally soiled into buying one. It had great comfort to it. Comfort that I absolutely needed. Sleeping without having dramatic scenes flash in to wake me up in the late night hours. I had perfect night sleep since my purchase of it.

“Mornin’...”

Yawning and stretching while struggling to sit upright, she uttered the words as I quickly nodded my head.

As mentioned earlier, a part of me felt bad for her struggling to raise the child, named Imani. It was fifty-fifty, partial saying fuck her problems, let her suffer, but the other portion said to step up and forgive her actions.

While not being able to forgive, I did choose to step up and be there for her and the kid. Reasoning for me taking time off, a semi-retirement that was a bit premature, but it was needed in order to get her situated. Buying the kid new clothes, ‘kicks’ and supplies.

“Morning ...”

In reply, I answered back, as my head hung over thinking about the tasks that had to be performed today.

The previous night was my initial signing to a game where, to be honest, it was the best time of my life. It was my first run, it was loose and very unpredictable. Skip to this era, it has remained unpredictable, even with the complete turnaround.

The End of AWR.

The Birth of a new chapter

Enter IWF

A Place Influx with fresh talent.

When I came to special event of IWF’s Battle Grounds, I was a ‘spectator’. Looking around, checking out the talent, the ones who have grinded it out for supremacy and to plant themselves amongst history. It made me feel real good about this attempt to come back for something more. In my head, I felt I was ready to compete again. Shit, I was only what ... twenty four, going on twenty-five. I had a lot more artifacts to collect such as championship titles. I’m all about the Gold ... it’s on my arm, my ears, around my neck and even sometimes on my teeth.

“Anything you want me to fix you this morning?”

In her attractive “baby-like” voice, she asked as she slipped into her silk floral robe.

“Not at all ... I got some things to take care of...”

I said as I got up from the bed.

“...I’ll grab a bagel or hit the 7/11 on my way!”

Nodding her head, she did a half circle around the bed from her side over to mines. Exiting the room, I just shook my head towards her exit.

Every morning I just kept asking myself “Why?” To let her close the gap between her and I a bit more was not what I envisioned happening. I wanted my distance, however she held the ability to be right next to me. It was something about Desiree’ that I just couldn’t seem to shy away from. Even with all the trouble, every time we were feet or inches apart that flashback kept occuring over and over.

It was an ongoing saga that remained without a proper ending. Walking out of the bedroom and into the hallway, I traveled into the bathroom as surprisingly she was face-front with the mirror on the wall, checking all her aspects. Turning around to exit, she called.

“Come in ... Nothing but checking my eyes.”

She said, signaling me to come in with her finger.

“Nah, I’m good ... the other one is down the hall!”

Responding with a refusal to come in, she slammed her hands onto the sink counter.

“Teige ... Why go all the way down there when all I’m doing is checking my face. I’m not intruding your space.”

Looking at her, I bit my lip a little as I slowly entered the fray. She re-connected with the mirror as I went over to grab the cloth. Standing to the side of her, turning the faucet on to drenching the cloth before twisting the cloth, removing all the water from the cloth basically. Wiping my face in a one smooth motion up and down, getting the invisible dust particles off. Reaching last for the tooth brush, she assisted with the paste as she twisted the top off, turning it upside down before squeezing out the content of the tube onto the brush.

“What are you doing?”

I asked, unsure of what her motive was.

“Nothing ... Just thought I could assist you in a way!”

She answered with a deviant smile.

Looking at her as she carried that smile for about a good three minutes, I went ahead and scrubbed my teeth as I positioned myself over the sink. Standing in the background was her.as she slowly crept up behind me before placing a hand on the side of me and placing the other on my neck, initiating a massage. Shrugging her off, I spit out the paste before turning around.

“It’s not like that anymore ... I’m not ready to trust you yet. Maybe at another time, but not right now!”

Speaking my part, I threw my toothbrush back in the cabinet before exiting the bathroom. Throwing her hands to the side as they flailed up and down, not knowing what to do next. She shook her head as she looked down the hallway.

“But ... But...”

Unable to finish, the sound of the door closed as she remained standing there not knowing what would be next.

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THE CHOP SHOP SESSIONS NO. #001 – “LOST N' FOUND: RETURN TO SENDER ASAP!”

Insomniac since way back, see that's what I been like
Bacon, eggs and pancakes, eating that at midnight
Getting up and going hard, I don't need no Enzyte
Come across as very calm, mental state is Zen like

Always had a lot of heart, never been the tin type
Never will I drop a dime, never been the ten type
My girlfriend is very fine, yeah she is a ten, right?
Mink is dragon on the floor, fire in my windpipe

You should come and clean up after riots that I incite
Things got off the handle, left behind a landfill

Traffic at a standstill, stadium is fan-filled
Fill this bitch up with fans, you still won't blow my candle...out
My can do spirit's in the house, and it's possessing your possessions

Let me express the “lower standards” of this company. Yes, Syn and JD. Looks like both of you bitches are in for a drag-out, death fight this coming week on New Years Evil. The laughing stock of the community. JD rumbling the hallways of the arena with Snicker chocolate all on your bright green shirt that your mother just bought you. A bitch ass nigga with a porn star name that can hardly do anything right except for lay down and roll over.

Do I really need to say anything about Syn? Learn English my nigga then I'll start to pay attention

I’m going to enjoy pummeling the shit out of you two. When you both leave out of that ring, you’ll both we'll be half black, two black rings around your eyes and a busted lip to go along with the new look. I’m going to make a bold statement out of you two Bitch ass Niggaz, I come to think why are you two even here besides being crash test dummies.

I heard the news about me on TMZ ... everyone thinks of me as a bum who needs money or is broke. I’m not even fucking old yet, a few years older, I’m still in my mid-twenties. I am in the same physique, my fist are still lethal as Charlie Sheen’s “Warlords”. I’m nowhere near broke, I’m smart with my money. My grandmother taught me about how to save as well as giving insight to what the future in the economy would be like. She advised for me to save, early and often.

I have nothing to prove to those who consider throwing out the hatred towards me. Weeks from now, I'll be back where I belong. In a competitive race for some ‘jack off’s’ championship title. Whomever it may be, they will know.

Before I abruptly left this sport, I was on my game, twenty four-seven. They fail to believe it now, but just wait.

Syn and JD will see it as they will be flying high as a New Year's Eve firework show

Yea Dig!