Sole Control (Extended Version)

I was just walking down the street when my friend Dustin stopped in front of a Foot Locker and pointed out an advertisement hanging in the window.


“You see those Jordans? Man, those are the Jordan X’s. They got all his accomplishments inscribed on the soles. These are going to be the hottest shoes when they come out.”


I was only like 12 years old and had no idea what he was talking about. I didn’t even really like basketball, but I saw those sneakers and knew I had to have them. The black, red, and white color scheme wasn’t anything my eyes hadn’t seen before but they still hypnotized me. I looked down at my ratty all-white Reebok Classics and felt embarrassed. I went home that night and started scrounging up any nickels and dimes I could find underneath the cushions of my parents sofa. I didn’t come from a poor neighborhood, my family did well for themselves, but I knew there was no chance in hell that my father was going to buy me a pair shoes for $175. No way. I didn’t even bother asking because I was afraid of his response.


I started dreaming about what I would look like in those Jordans. I wanted some classic fit Ralph Lauren Polo khakis, a nice Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, and maybe one of those Chicago Bulls Champion crew neck sweaters… no, how about a throwback Flyers varsity jacket from Mitchell & Ness? Sometimes I can’t remember what I was thinking. Yeah, that sounds right. I didn’t even care that the red wouldn’t match with the orange, I just had to have it. So how does a pre-pubescent existence come up with that kind of cash? I turned into a brainstorming machine. I would walk around downtown pretending to be some abandoned kid and the old ladies would give me money. Sometimes I would just try to pick pocket them, in which cases they practically always caught me. Late at night I would smash car windows to see if the owners left their wallets or some loose dollar bills in the center console or glove compartments. I usually just came up with some loose change found in the cup holders. I would go into Laundromats and press every coin return on the washers and dryers. Once in awhile if I felt motivated I would go to the old Veterans houses that lived on my street and offer to mow their lawn or wash their cars for a few dollars, but that was rare. I was about fast cash… mostly fast change, but I had to start somewhere.


It took me 3 months to save up that money, but I did it and I bought those Jordans. I was almost too afraid to wear them, especially because the rest of my wardrobe was significantly lacking. Faded blue jeans and a dumb ass Midway Little League All-Stars t-shirt didn’t exactly compliment my prized possession. Either way, I was hooked. I did whatever I could to get the newest, freshest, most talked about shoes before anyone else had them. Whatever it took. As I got older the level of my crimes began to elevate. In high school I was introduced to marijuana and figured fuck it, I’ll sell a little bit for the money. It was easier then getting a job, without a doubt. My sneaker collection began to grow from Jordans to Air Ones to Air Max 90s, 93s, 95s, 97s. Anything with that check and even some New Balance and Reebok Pumps thrown in there. Blazers, Nike SB, Structures, Trainers, Stabs, Adidas Classic Shell Tops, Wallys, it didn’t matter, I had it.


As it turns out, I wasn’t just addicted to the shoes. I became obsessed with the lifestyle. Fashion is expensive, so my endeavors were forced to expand. I started dealing a little cocaine. Actually more than just a little. You know how it goes. You start in the minor leagues selling dimes to your friends after school and graduate to the majors. We all know the story so let’s just skip all that.


I had a nice apartment downtown after I dropped out of college. Chemistry was really the only class I needed. English, Sociology, Western Civilization? No thanks. I was driving around in a BMW M3. Black with black rims and a subtle tint. For business purposes I drove a not so glamorous Toyota Camry four door sedan complete with dryer sheets lining the trunk. It had a nasty dent on the passenger side door, maybe from a shopping cart but who really knows? I didn’t smoke cigarettes but occasionally I would burn some non-menthol Newports or Camels inside of my car just to eliminate any lingering odors. I was, by no means, a kingpin. I still answered to somebody who answered to somebody else who answered to somebody else and etc. However, I did oversee the movement of a fair amount of drugs.


In my apartment I had to dedicate a room to my shoe collection which had begun to get out of hand. I was buying shit that wasn’t even special edition or dead stock. Just regular Nike Classics in plain colors. I had a lot of Euro releases that I gave up an arm and a leg for, but they were worth it. The way the 97s gleam when a camera flash hits them, it’s incredible. And the look on peoples faces when I was walking around in Air Max 95s that had Burberry print? Priceless. Ugliest shoe I own, but it got attention. Was that what was I looking for? Maybe. Or maybe it was that feeling you get, you know the one. It’s hard to explain. You walk into that little boutique and see those Air Structures down towards the bottom of the display. Teal with blue and a little black. You know that nobody in a 10 mile radius has any idea how hard those sneakers are going to hit when you put on your Ralph Lauren Polo khaki shorts that you wear a little high because you’re ahead of the game, a pair of black socks mid-cut on the ankle so you can see the Champion “C”, and a black short sleeved t-shirt with a front pocket on it. It’s sort of like when you’re fooling around with some girl above the sheets and she’s licking on your ear and shit and you touch her on the outside of her pants but you hit that spot and she thrusts her hips into yours while skipping a breath and you KNOW you are about fuck this girl. Yeah, sort of like that. But better, because you talked the oriental woman down to 70 dollars which is more than a fucking steal. They should lock me up for that in itself.


Anyway, some pressure was applied to a few of my affiliates and I got touched. Same old story. I’m doing a little bid upstate and my life is pretty much ruined. All of my shoes are being kept in a storage space for me and I’ve been tossing around the idea of selling them once I get out to make a little money. I probably won’t though. I’m standing here looking out of this little window in an orange jumpsuit with some numbers on the back in the freshest Orange/Black/White Air Max 90s you could ever find. Orange laces. I just wanted you to know that. Now would be a great time to have that Flyers Varsity Jacket from Mitchell & Ness. See you in five to ten.


All for the sneakers.


William Wallace

Unfinished

These plains are unfamiliar but still they roll.
It doesn’t matter anyway, I’ve become a stranger to landscape.
It’s almost disenchanting. Almost, but not quite.
Not quite only because when I feel like a mechanism I know it’s only a product of my own mind.
To converse: to feel human. To feel more alive than you could ever make me.
It should get easier now that we’re older, but it doesn’t.
You have not reached my age or clout.
That in itself is troubling, but not enough to make things stir.
You have not reached me.
It should get easier now that we’re older but it doesn’t.
More RF transmissions stealing our vision.
Our pets have been spayed and neutered although our own crimes are going unpunished.
However.
Would you even lend a helping hand?
Where do your laurels rest? By the wayside?
Throw all caution and safety there.
Do something unexpected.
I’m aware of the nutrients that have been lost in battle
And when I find them I put them underneath of my pillow.
Maybe he will come down and regret with us.
Oh, Good Evening to you, Governor
And Good Evening to you too, Sir.
How else shall you break us down?
Good Evening to you too, Sir.
Good Evening, Governor.
What taxes have you planned for tomorrow?
How else are you going to rob my father?
And you, Ma’am… Good Evening.
How innocent do you plan on being perceived?

(There was supposed to be more in between here.)

I have shattered the concave and everything was left.
I extracted your essence that enables my existence.
Inhale, exhale your reflection.

Willam Wallace - The Heart, Blood, and Care Taker of the GMK

Out Like A Lamb (Part Seven of To Be Continued...)

but in his panic he doesn’t yet realize that the car has completely stopped. I watch the car stop from the sidewalk and I see myself communicate with the driver. The driver asks if I need help but I tell him that I am fine and would like to continue reading. He is confused so he drives away. I see the car drive away. I stare at myself in the road in amazement and then I wake up. I wake up and I am standing in the middle of an unfamiliar road reading a book that is waterlogged from the rain.




I promised that this is only the beginning…




I’m so uninterested in your ignorance. You were always busy when I was unoccupied. Was I? Did I even want to know anything? I said this begins in a kitchen but right now this is not it. This is just a bridge from one point to another, which is the point of a bridge. They rarely end. You won’t see a bridge halfway built. Dear Bridge, connect me, take me to the other side of the water. I am in awe of your height.



What happens when innovation becomes the standard?



I promised that this is only the beginning...


To be continued...

William Wallace

Out Like A Lamb Part 8: Thomas Writes A Story

My name is Thomas and I wrote a story. There were pictures to go with it, but I lost them in the fire. What fire? No, just read the story. They have a lot of waivers.


Dragons are real and my story is about them.


There was once a dragon slayer that had never slain a dragon. However, a dragon had never slain him so he managed to maintain the title. Monsters are not real and this dragon slayer did not slay them. If he did, he would be a monster slayer, but there are no such thing as monsters so this entire situation is hypothetical. It was interesting that the Kingdom he belonged to allowed him to boast as a dragon slayer. Have you ever met a bar tender that doesn’t tend to the bar and continued to refer to him as a bar tender? Of course not.


I shall call the dragon slayer Joseph.


Joseph had dreams of becoming a knight. He was something of a klutz so he never really achieved his dream. The King never “knighted” him, instead, he was given a special duty. He was ordered to protect the Kingdom from dragons. It was a cruel joke. Nobody within the Kingdom believed that dragons existed, so they ridiculed Joseph. He was not the pride of anything or anyone.


He remembered no family and no friends. Just his sword and his shield and the woman that never loved him.


“Good Morrow, Joseph… slay any dragons lately?” This is how they mocked him. Joseph looked so knightly but he felt so empty. I shall call him Joseph the Dragon Slayer.


Unbeknownst to Joseph and the whole Kingdom, but only to his fortune, a dragon lurked in the shadows of the (k)night. The dark abyss and the terrible unknown. This dragon kept his watchful yellow eye on the Kingdom and dreamt of scorching the fortress with his flaming breath. He would leave the trees without leaves and the wives without husbands.


The unassuming Dragon Slayer would fall with the Kingdom. Rest in peace on the hills and power in the valleys.


The dragon decided the day he would attack. The Sun rose in the east on this fateful day.


The dragon let out a cry so the whole Kingdom could hear it.
A battle ensued so epic I can only describe it in lyric.
The dragon attacked with a force unforeseen.
An attack that could only be dreamt in a dream.
The war had begun, the dragon breathed flame.
Every locked door hid a child and dame.
Horses were cooked, their riders were ash.
Buildings collapsed with a bang and a crash.
All hope was lost for the King and the Crown
Then Joseph stepped out with a leap and a frown.
Joseph faced the dragon with fear on his skin
All thoughts of survival were soon stretched thin.
The dragon looked at Joseph with a curious grin
This man could not possibly believe this battle he could win.
The dragon breathed fire to boast his power
And Joseph marched forward with not even a cower.
The dragon was amused with the daring young man
Not knowing that Joseph had devised a plan.
Women and children prayed to the lord.
And Joseph marched forward with his shield and his sword.
The dragon raged on with his fiery breath.
As Joseph pressed on towards inevitable death.
Joseph approached the dragon from behind
And gashed him deep all along his spine.




Back to the regular prose. After the dragon was slain a royal dinner was arranged for Joseph. It was held in the castle’s dining hall where the décor was extravagant and the food was exquisite. The ceremony was invite only and the guests were of high value. After the meal the King called Joseph to the throne and said “Joseph, you saved the Kingdom and preserved our reign. This is the only way I can thank you for saving our lives. I shall hereby proclaim you Sir Joseph the Dragon Slayer and present with you a suite in the royal palace and a wife fit for only a King.”


The guests cheered and chanted “Long live the King! Long live Joseph! Long live the King! Long live Joseph!”


However, Joseph stopped the chant and revealed to the crowd and the King that the Dragon had not been killed. Rather, he was planning another attack. The crowd gasped, the King was speechless, but Joseph devised a plan and spoke with such conviction that he won not only the noblemans heart, but the Kings and the peasants. He wanted to strike first with a small battalion he had put together. They were to leave at midnight of the next day. The King approved Joseph the Dragon Slayer’s plan and provided him with all of the knights and equipment he requested. The kingdom gave their blessing and nervously applauded their hero and protector.


The small contingent gathered in the (k)night ready to march towards battle. No one lined the streets and no one was cheering. Parents put their kids to sleep hoping and praying that Joseph could slay the mighty dragon.


“They will write stories about us.” Joseph told them this in confidence. This is that story.

As the soldiers marched towards the battle they chanted:
And it won't be long
'Till I get back home


An originale by William BraveHeart Wallace


If you haven't already done so, go to The Infamous Mag and snag both covers of their new magazine and check out the William Wallace article in it.

Part 7 soon.