The Final Scrolls of DPizM: #5 (The Last Post)
*Excavated by the Admin of OTV. Originally by scribed by the most admirable and sincere DPM around late July 20ish in Puerto Rico.
The Origin and End of DPizM
It's been an interesting trip. From Siestas with "Restricted Telephone Numbers", to "Club Hoes," to "Black Women at the Dance Club Who Refuse to Dance" to "Sistas: This is what we really want..." From September 2005--August 2006, it's been a helluva trip. A year to remember. Some of it I cain't even blog. Just believe that OTV has a very unique magnet with it's own gravitational pull of metaphysical events.
The simple sum of things is to say it was "fun." A pleasantly surprising adventure of Revelation and healing. I have to admit, I was prepared to be, "On the Verge of Dating White Girls (dot com)" forever even though I had no intention of ever dating a White girl--and I haven't.
However, "On the Verge of Dating White Girls" unexpectedly turned out to be the name of this place in my head. My world. I coined it. I gave it a label. Much like a useless, yet attractive pair of seventeen-inch-screen plasma screens mounted in the rear window of my pimped out rant mobile.
Little did I know that the tinted windows of my blog would become such an insightful and interactive portal into the mind of a single Black African-American male.
I can't say that I'm completely surprised. I mean, it's the web. Therefore these posts have an infinite possibility of reaching beyond my fingertips via the Internet. I'm not sure how far that was or wasn't but I can say that my journey has been just as long or even more moving.
It's a slippery description to express. An elusive image to dictate. A too blurry reality to believe... But it remains noteworthy that OTV has been an instrumental reinforcement of the belief that very word and true essence of the word "Love" is undermined, underestimated and underused within the everyday vocabulary of us. Begining with ourselves, we must use LOVE more.
Specifically, for the exclusive ignorant, shallow and unknowing audience, please know that in no way did I ever use this site to hate. My frustrations may appeared to be "not so loving" at times. But it was just that, "FRUSTRATION." Nonetheless, I aired it out with the help of comments, conversation and email. For that I thank you.
And even though much of the healing energy came as a humanitarian donation of curiosity, empathy, laughter, anger, etc.... I feel in debted to those who cared enough to read, comment and lurk. Therefore I must tell you that your boy, the DPMystic has reached a crossroad. No longer can I post as DPM. I can't even return home as Deepium. Instead, I must die. I gotta kill DPM. Let him move on whatever...
It's part "SUICIDE" because I have to knowingly kill a side of myself. Then again it's my "SACRIFICE" if I consider it an offering to the God of my power of manifestation and a cyber reference for anybody feeling me or the confines of OTV.
In all, what can I say? There's is something strangely beautiful about death and that untimely time is now. And I'm going to do so with a beautiful Black woman and my Blackest Black self because I deserve so and I'm pimpy. And who knows? Perhaps we can because she is Supa and I am The Blackest Black Man Ever. Sounds good to me--plus she hates sour cream.
(Actually, this post bothers me... Next life time y'all. I'm 5000).