(Usher chimes. And then:)
THOUGHT 5: Hey, Son, it’s your dad. ’Member when you first told us you was “attracted to men”? And I asked you, I said, “You say you attracted to men. Well, I’m a man. Are you attracted to me?” I ain’t gon’ stop askin’ ’til I get an answer, Son.
INWOOD DADDY
Thought 6 welcomes Usher into his apartment.
THOUGHT 6: Usher?
USHER: I’m so sorry I’m so late. The MTA sucks and Inwood is never as easy to navigate as I think it’s gonna be.
THOUGHT 6: That’s okay. Because who knows the next time I’ll be able to get away from my wife for one of my little New York City rendezvous like this, so let’s get this party started. You smoke, bro?
USHER: No.
THOUGHT 6: Well, I’m gonna smoke myself up a little.
(Thought 6 opens a drawer and pulls out meth and a pipe. He lights up. The other Thoughts enter eavesdropping on the scene.)
USHER: Um, is that crack?
THOUGHT 6: No, dummy, it’s meth, and if you don’t want to be here, I’ve got blacker asses than yours lined up for days in my Gmail.
USHER (Steps out of the moment):
I ALWAYS SAY I PLAN TO CHANGE MY LIFE TODAY
BUT THE ONLY THING I EVER SEEM TO DO
IS WRITE A SONG
IS WRITE A SONG
IS WRITE A SONG
BUT TONIGHT I GOT ATTRACTED TO
THOUGHTS 1–3:
INWOOD DADDY SUCKING COCK ALL SATURDAY MORNING
THOUGHTS 1–5:
INWOOD DADDY SUCKING COCK ALL SATURDAY MORNING
USHER:
HE POSTED
THOUGHT 6:
“IT’S MY GUARANTEE YOU’LL HAVE THE TIME OF YOUR LIFE, BRO;
WANNA GIVE OUT SOME DICK I DON’T EVEN GIVE TO MY WIFE SO
ALL BLACKS AND LATINOS
TO THE FRONT OF THE LINE
IF YOU GIMME THAT FAT BUBBLE BUTT,
I’LL TREAT IT JUST LIKE A SHRINE …”
USHER: No, it’s fine. Sorry for being such a “See You Next Tuesday.” Smoke all you want.
THOUGHT 6: That is just the sexiest fucking lisp. It makes you sound like a baby. I fucking love babies. How old are you?
USHER: Twenty-five. I turn twenty-six tomorrow actually.
THOUGHT 6: Huh. I would have guessed fourteen or fifteen.
USHER: Oh, yeah. I get that a lot. None of that hard living I guess.
THOUGHT 6: Well let’s get you into that birthday suit so we can celebrate then, big guy. You’ve taken care of business back there, right? I know most of you boys don’t wash but when I get to pound town I like a clean workspace.
USHER: I did my best, okay? Um, do you have something to wrap that up with?
THOUGHT 6: Let me get you some poppers.
USHER: I’m sorry. I’m just a little shy about drugs.
THOUGHT 6 (Mocks Usher’s lisp): Poppers isn’t “drugs”! C’mon! It’ll open up that sweet potato pie of yours.
USHER: No, I’m sorry. And please. Wrap it up. I’m sorry. I’m not on PrEP.
THOUGHT 6: Jesus Christ. Aight. But you know how thick I am so don’t come cryin’ to me when you go into prolapse after I blow that hole out.
USHER: You gonna blow my hole out, daddy?
THOUGHT 6: Oh, most definitely, my dude.
(Usher steps outside of himself as Thought 6 undresses.)
USHER:
I ALWAYS SAY I PLAN TO CHANGE MY LIFE TODAY
AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I’M ABOUT TO DO
BUT IS IT WRONG?
AND AM I WRONG?
IS IT WRONG?
AM I WRONG TO BE ATTRACTED TO
USHER:
THOUGHTS 1–3:
THE WHITE MALE INDIFFERENCE
CROSSED WITH FETISHIZATION?
WHICH IS EASY TO DO WHEN
YOU’RE FEELING SUCH DESPERATION …
THE WHITE MALE INDIFFERENCE
CROSSED WITH FETISHIZATION?
WHICH IS EASY TO DO WHEN
YOU’RE FEELING SUCH DESPERATION …
(Usher slowly undresses.)
THOUGHTS 1–5:
’CAUSE YOU’RE JUST A DUMB MONKEY AND THE PAIN OF THAT HAUNTS YOU
THOUGHTS 1–3:
SO JUST DO WHAT HE SAYS
THOUGHTS 4–5:
BECAUSE AT LEAST SOMEONE WANTS YOU …
(The Thoughts begin a sexy minstrel dance around the sex act.)
THOUGHT 6:
USHER:
THOUGHTS 1–5:
You like my white cock in your ass don’t you, nigger? The niggers always love it when I give ’em a little police brutality up the old Hershey Hideaway … Open up for me, blacky. Oooopen up for me. Thass right, yeah, yeah. Ahhhh … (Pounds him in silent ecstasy for a while, then) Aw, Kunta Kinte, those aren’t tears in your eyes, are they?
Is Massa making you KWYYY?
Good ’cause I like it rough. And now Massa’s gonna fuck you ’til you learn to be a good little boyyyyy … (Pounding him) Take it, monkey. Take my dick, take my dick, take my dick, take my … (Moaning/groaning) fuuuuck … yeahhh … (Continues pounding the shit out of him until he comes all over Usher’s back)
Mmmmm … mmmm … uhhhhhh … ooh … ahhh … uh, uh, uh …
Yes, fuck my bussy. Fuck my bussy, daddy. Fuck my bussy, fuck my bussy, give me that good gutter sex, daddy; give me that gutter sex. Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh … No.
No. (Howling with the Gayville minstrels) IT’S THE ONLY THING I EVER SEEM TO DO … IT’S THE ONLY THING I EVER SEEM TO DO … IT’S THE ONLY THING I EVER SEEM TO DO … BE HIS NIGGER NIGGER … (Usher has a weak orgasm)
WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITES ONLY. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITES ONLY.
JIM CROW. JIM CROW. BE HIS WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITES ONLY. BE HIS WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. WHITES ONLY. JIM CROW. JIM CROW. (BE HIS WHITE. WHITE. WHITE. NIGGER …) BE HIS NIGGER BE HIS NIGGER BE HIS NIGGER GIVE HIM THAT FAT, BLACK ASS … BE HIS NIGGER … GIVE HIM THAT FAT, BLACK ASS … NIGGER …
(Long silence.)
THOUGHT 6: That was so nice. (Exhales, satisfied) I mean you’re still learning … but that was really lovely. I love teaching young boys how to use their bodies. (Yawns) You really should use poppers though if you’re not gonna tweak, bro. It makes it so much better.
USHER: Well, I hope you don’t mind but I have so much work to do.
THOUGHT 6: It’s Sunday.
USHER: A LOT of work to do.
THOUGHT 6: What do you do for work?
USHER: It’s too boring to talk about.
THOUGHT 6: C’mon. Stay. I can make breakfast. You like grits? I make great grits. And I think I have some leftover Popeyes from the last boy that was here.
(Finds it; hands Usher a box of Popeyes) Yyyyep. Here it is. Want?
USHER: Look. I hate to make this a fuck-and-run but thanks for a fun night. It was amaze.
THOUGHT 6: Sure but text me sometime. For you, I’d figure out how to make my little New York City getaways a semi-regular thing.
USHER: You’re sweet.
THOUGHT 6: Seriously. You have a really hot ass.
BOUNDARIES
USHER:
WHY DID I DO THAT?
WHAT DID THAT DO FOR ME?
WHAT A PERFORMANCE
WHERE ARE MY BOUNDARIES?
I THREW MY HANDS UP
HE BLEW MY HOUSE DOWN
ALL I EVER WANTED WAS TO JUMP OFF OF A PRECIPICE
LAUNCH MY GOLDEN PARACHUTE
A WIN FOR THE RECORD BOOK
THOUGHT I HAD WHAT IT TOOK
NOT AS SMART AS I LOOK
’CAUSE NOW I’M PRACTICALLY IN TRACTION
WHY DID I DO THAT?
DOWN ON MY HANDS AND KNEES?
WHY PLAY SUBMISSIVE?
WHAT ARE MY BOUNDARIES?
THOUGHT IT WOULD LEARN ME
IF I LET IT BURN ME
ALL I EVER WANTED WA
S TO SHOW THAT I WAS TOUGH ENOUGH
BIG ENOUGH AND STRONG ENOUGH TO
SLOW DOWN A SPEEDING TRAIN
OUTRUN THE BULLS IN SPAIN
I SWERVED OUTSIDE MY LANE
MY BRAKES WENT OUT AND NOW I’M ROADKILL
STILL I BEAT MYSELF UP
STILL I KNOCK MYSELF DOWN
AND STILL I FLIP MYSELF OFF IN THE MIRROR
WHICH MAKES ME FEEL REALLY BAD
WHICH MAKES ME FEEL REALLY GOOD
WHICH MAKES ME FEEL LIKE THE STUPIDEST ASSHOLE
RUBBER WANTS TO HIT THE OPEN ROAD
BUT I KEEP DWELLING ON THE PAST
I PRAY THAT SOME DAY I WILL CHANGE
STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED
EACH TIME I TRY TO CHART MY COURSE
WILD HORSES THROW ME OFF BY FORCE
THE SAME OLD STORY
LURCHING AFTER GLORY
AND I FALL SHORT
WHY DO I DO THIS?
BOW DOWN AND PEOPLE-PLEASE
I CAN’T KNOW FREEDOM
WITHOUT CLEAR BOUNDARIES
’TIL I DRAW BOUNDARIES
I HAVE NO BOUNDARIES
PERIODICALLY
USHER: Usher’s walk of shame from Inwood takes him deeper into a strange loop, which is precisely the moment he gets his annual birthday voicemail from Mom.
(Thought 4 enters dressed like a gospel play matriarch.)
THOUGHT 4:
I JUST LIKE TO REMIND YOU PERIODICALLY
THAT I LOVE YOU, SON
IF YOU EVER SHOULD FIND YOU
NEED ENCOURAGEMENT
THEN YOU CALL ME, SON
I AM YOUR MAMA
AND I’VE ALWAYS LOVED YOU
EVEN WHEN YOU BE DOING ME WRONG
I WENT THROUGH LABOR
HOURS OF LABOR
TO BRING YOU ALONG
AND YOU MEAN ALL THE WORLD TO ME
YOU MEAN ALL THE WORLD TO ME
YOU’RE THE REASON I’M SINGING THIS SONG
THIS IS THE DAY! THIS IS THE DAY!
THIS IS THE DAY THAT THE LORD HAS MADE!
(A cappella:)
THAT THE LORD HAS MADE!
HE HAS A MILESTONE IN MY BABY’S LIFE—YOU TURNED TWENTY-SIX OOON THE TWENTY-SIX!
AAAAAND THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN AGAIIIIN!
SOOOOO ENJOY YOUR DAYYYY!
You were born at 8:31 this morning, my love. Mom loves you. You turned twenty-six on the twenty-six. Can’t tell you nuthin’! May you have a good day—I know it’s early! I hope I’m the first one to call ya! But even if I’m not, with the exception of our dear Heavenly Father, I’m the one that loves you the most. Well, me AND your dad. Okay, my love? Aw, I know, I’m gettin’ all sen-i-men-al and mush but we be thinkin’ about you and we be prayin’ about you ’cause I get worried(!) with my baby up there in New York with folks livin’ any which o’ way. Like them folks on Entertainment Tonight. Do you watch Entertainment Tonight? I sure hope you don’t wit’ different people sittin’ up there talkin’ ’bout Michael Jackson fiddlin’ with little boys and R. Kelly fiddlin’ with little girls and Botox and abortion? But I know I don’t have to worry about my baby bein’ Botoxed and aborted ’cause my baby was raised in the fear and admonition of the Lord! And the Proverbs which says: “Raise up a child in the way he should go and he will not depart from it.”
I JUST LIKE TO REMIND YOU
PERIODICALLY, READ YOUR BIBLE, SON
DON’T PUT JESUS BEHIND YOU
PERIODICALLY, READ YOUR BIBLE, SON
ONE—HONOR THY FATHER
AND THY MOTHER
THAT THY DAYS ON THE EARF WILL BE LONG
TWO—BE YE ENCOURAGED
YE MAY FEEL HELPLESS
BUT JESUS IS STRONG!!!
AND THREE!—AND MOST IMPORTANTLY
AND MOST IMPORTANTLY
IT’S THE REASON I’M SINGING THIS SONG
Listen at me now:
MAN IS FOR WO-MAN
USHER: His mom starts on her sermonizing.
THOUGHT 4:
AND WO-MAN FOR MAN!
USHER: Aw, shucky ducky nah!
THOUGHT 4:
THE REST IS CONFUSION!
USHER: Tell it lak it is, tell it lak it is!
THOUGHT 4:
AND NOT IN GOD’S PLAN!
USHER: That’s right! That’s right! That’s right! Ooooooh, Lordy! YOU BETTA SANG, MOTHA!
THOUGHT 4:
ALL O’ THESE HOLLYWOOD HOMOSEXUALS!
WAVING GAY FLAGS ALL DAY AND NIGHT!
STICKING THEY THANGS UP EACH OTHER’S BUTTHOLES!
I’M TELLING YOU, SON, THAT IT JUST AIN’T RIGHT!
IT AIN’T RIGHT! IT AIN’T RIGHT! IT AIN’T RIGHT WIT’ GAWD!
IT AIN’T RIGHT! IT AIN’T RIGHT! IT AIN’T RIGHT WIT’ ME!
AND I JUST LIKE TO CALL UP MY BABY BOY
AND REMIND HIM OF THAT PERIODICALLY …
USHER AND THOUGHT 4:
’CAUSE I LOVE YOU
AND I DON’T WANT YOUR SOUL TO BE WASTED
IT HURTS ME SO BAD SOMETIMES I CAN TASTE IT
HELL IS REAL …
SINNERS BURNING …
SINNERS CHURNING IN RIVERS OF FIRE …
’CAUSE O’ FILTHY, UNHOLY DESIRE …
HELL IS REAL!
THOUGH WE LOVE YOU …
DON’T REPENT ’CAUSE YOU KNOW IT WOULD PLEASE US …
SON, YOU SHOULD DO IT SO YOU CAN SEE JESUS …
HE IS REAL!
AND HE LOVES YOU …
AND HE DON’T WANT YOUR SOUL TO BE WASTED …
’CAUSE ALL DA PAIN OF THE WORLD, HE DONE FACED IT …
HE IS REAL!
AND I LOVE HIM …
SO DESPITE ALL MY PAIN AND MY STRIFE I’LL JUST KEEP ON PRAYING YOUR REPROBATE LIFESTYLE …
ISN’T REAL …
(Thought 4 exits.)
THOUGHT 2: Happy birthday, Usherrrrr!
USHER: Go away, Daily Self-Loathiiiiiing.
THOUGHT 2 (À la Wendy Williams): HOW U DOIN’?
USHER: What do you care?
THOUGHT 2: Oh, I don’t. But I had some time to kill so I just thought I’d drop by to remind you how truly worthless you—
USHER: Fuck you.
THOUGHT 2: Naw, nigguh, fuck you. I’m just stating a fact. Some people never change. Certainly not a little fat-ass darkie like you.
USHER: Oh yeah? Well, we’ll see about that.
THOUGHT 2: Well, look at God! So what’s next, you little masochist?
(Thought 5 enters dressed like a gospel play patriarch.)
DIDN’T WANT NOTHIN’ [REPRISE]
THOUGHT 5:
HEY, SON, IT’S YOUR DAD
I DIDN’T WANT NOTHIN’
JUST THOUGHT I WOULD CALL
AND SAY WASSUP
TO MY SECOND-BORN SON
SOME PEOPLE AT CHURCH
SAW SOME O’ YOUR MUSIC
IT’S OUT THERE ONLINE
OUT FRONT JUST LIKE
SOMEBODY SPRAY-PAINTED “CUNT” …
THOUGHT 4: Airhead Marion comin’ up to me at church wit’ a smirk on her dat-blasted face talkin’ ’bout: “We heard Usher music, Sister Sarabi. He always been real talented. Too bad he all off into the homosexsh’alities. I hope God don’t punish him wit’ AIDS like he did Darnell.”
THOUGHT 5: Awww, who care about all’at who-shot-John bullshit?
THOUGHT 4: I CARE!!!!!
THOUGHT 5: WELL, YOU SHOULDN’T! Marion ain’t nothin’ but a damn slut so I don’t give a damn what she got to say! And if Usher wonts to write about kissin’ on men and mess around and get hisself AIDS doin’ what the white man wonts him to do wit’ his asshole and go against God’s word then who the fuck are we? So what else is goin’ on in New York, Son? Tell me about your personal life. How many dicks you been suckin’? You been slurpin’ any come down y’throat? What about that guy Toya supposedly married to? You been fuckin’ on that nigguh? He been fuckin’ on you?
USHER: No. Toya’s husband hasn’
t been fucking on me and I haven’t been fucking on him. They’re happily married and that’s not about to change any time soon. And while there is not currently any semen in my stomach, yes, I’m still “all off into the homosexsh’alities.” But all that really means is that on the rare occasions I do end up taking my clothes off in front of someone, it’s usually for some raggedy-ass white man who gets to nut all over me even though all I really want is to be with a Black man who rides for me as much as I ride for him. Especially when the anti-Black world we live in gets so strung out on this color-blind “love is love” bullshit, forgetting that “love is love” will never be true until Black love matters and Black lust matters and Black queers can finally stop using white men to flatter or elevate their fucking class status and start buying into how sexy and liberating it could be to just be with each other. But sadly those Black queers are as stuck social-climbing as I’m stuck licking up whatever stale white crumbs I can get my hands on which is why now is a great time to explain to you that every time you drunkenly ask me if I’m attracted to you because I’m a man and you’re a man, I get infuriated not by how ignorant that question is, but by how much it actually bothers me to know that I probably am too fat and too Black and too ugly and too feminine to be a nigga you would even theoretically wanna dick down if you were gay and not my blood. Which is just how starved for Black affirmation and affection I am. And why I don’t feel one iota of Black-boy-joy-equality-whatever-the-fuck-it-is anywhere in my body ever. Which is nobody’s fault but my own for never asking for what I need or being accountable for my own bullshit I know, but just the same, worth saying out loud at least once. And that, in a nutshell, is “my personal life.”
(Silence.)
THOUGHT 5: Son, what do you actually want from me?
USHER: I want you to like my writing. My music. This show. I want you to care about my complexity.
THOUGHT 5: Well, I don’t like your writing, your music, or this show. And I don’t give a rat’s ass about your complexity and the sooner you get that through your hard-ass li’l’ head, the easier it’ll be. For all of us. Okay? Love you. Now. Sarabi, you hongry?
THOUGHT 4: Mufasa, it’s all right. Calm—
THOUGHT 5: DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! YOU HEARD WHAT HE SAID—
THOUGHT 4: MUFASA, HE DON’T KNOW WHAT HE’S SAY—
A Strange Loop Page 5