peeling off, peeling out, laying the dumb shit to the side. seeing myself, wholly, in bright light not allowing myself to be lost in the crevices between what he says, what she says slipping through cracks that seem more like caverns i am no longer willing to be held hostage by image or ego, whether mine or someone else's coming undone has never been so dope, and i love how it feels i have started to embrace la loba within. and for the first time, in a long time, i don't feel the overwhelming urge to tattoo or pierce, to cut my hair or get my eyebrows waxed. i'm fine how i am, where i am because i'm meant to just do what i do there's nothing to stop me no one to slow me down
the only one in the way of this is me. and i've decided to move on over.
do something about that skin try to find a style that makes your hair grow long and pretty don't get seconds on that, you know you need to lose weight sit with your legs closed, especially in skirts and dresses learn how to walk in high heels there are nice boys at church if you never stop sucking your thumb how are you ever gonna smile pretty? don't be so aggressive you talk too loud why are you always talking? don't correct people, it makes them feel inferior you should wear more dresses you need a girdle we aren't the kind of family that advocates that; we're christians why didn't you just finish college? you're too smart to be anywhere except school okay, when are you gonna have babies? why are you living there? what's that food you're eating? when are you going back to school? you don't live here, you can't do that you can't afford that, can you? why would you spend $12 on breakfast? you too good for the cart or mcdonald's? i didn't know you spoke spanish, you just be spittin that shit like [unintelligible] can you tell me where to find a poetry reading? why not? why don't you smile more? girls don't dance with girls around here, no matter what no, i know what you're trying to do my mom said you're not as cute as you think you are do you sing? why don't you sing something? why do you always have to be right? why don't you fight back? why don't you have a man? are you gay? _____ is weird; you probably know him/ her. turn the music down, nobody wants to hear that foreign shit. who ever told you that you can have whatever you want just because you want it? do you and your sisters really all have the same father? why are you so preachy? you can make money being a doula/ midwife/ crafter? you're high maintenance you're weird you're spoiled you must come from money w/ an attitude like that, cuz if you don't . . . i don't know where you get these airs from why do you switch so hard when you walk? you know you want this dick, girl i'ma pray that god changes your mind about that happy birthday (via text, when i call you all the time) you sure you gonna wear that? you always got some weird -- no, i'm sorry, different -- shit on you talk in circles. all women do, actually you use your feelings to navigate the world; that's illogical don't do that, that's not what nice girls do what do you mean you don't believe in jesus? you gave up on moving to new york, didn't you? get outta here w/ that boho shit you don't know a good thing when you see it what made you think you could fuck him too? i mean, you could be my girl if you . . . oh, no, we're not exclusive . . . where'd you get that from? you're trippin, this could never happen why aren't you writing? what are you writing about? stop writing about me you're phony you'll never have a man can't you just be normal? when can we expect payment? you aren't any different from anyone else, get that idea out of your head right now
this post is the result of attempting to empty my head of any and everything that's ever stuck to me and made me feel like i'm not a divinely blessed being. may every last bit of it be removed from my mind and set free on the wind, never to return to me.
i ate that whole container of hummus devoured that bottle of cheap ass white wine walked around my apartment in just a pair of heels -- by myself watched some porn flirted endlessly with no desire to take it further bought that pair of lace panties cut all my hair off slathered myself in coconut oil stayed in bed an extra three hours packed a bowl & smoked myself silly enjoyed a sandwich with two kinds of meat and a cheese on it wore a skirt w/ no panties underneath copped a pair of sexy shoes for no apparent reason fucked around w/ your homeboy got some extensions put in my head drank a whole pitcher of lager & three shots danced w/ a girl gave out a fake name @ the club went bonkers on the clearance rack got my nails done kissed a baby smiled at strangers & said 'good morning' started a blog spent 30 minutes in the dressing room & didn't buy shit ignored that phone call had a glass of wine w/ lunch on a monday wore jewelry that didn't match my outfit left work early to go on a weekend trip pretended to be younger than i am lied & said i was older downloaded an album wore some crazy looking outfit called someone a dirty name got nasty on the mic played dumb snickered when someone got fired called out sick just so i could have sex all day . . .
& an apology & that new pair of punky brewster sneakers someone who'll listen the first time she says someone's house is on fire across the street & someone to explain why she has to be nice to or give two shits about daddy & his folk someone to tell mommy to stop putting relaxers in her hair, no matter how much "easier" it is to style & a friend who won't steal her cabbage patch dolls a real talk about boys, sex, sexuality, & why her uncles keep nudie mags to know that difference between mommy's cigarettes & that funny smelling stuff ricky & his friends smoke in the living room to get to know all of the bisabuelos before they die or have strokes to learn to jump double dutch to learn to play chess, cuz checkers is for suckas & to know how beautiful she is to know it's more than, better than okay to be black to be unashamed of her roundness to understand that saying no is a tool, & she should do it often
she needs more quality time with momzie violin lessons more dance classes no more wave nouveau better access to health care more smart black girlfriends more books more space a savings account more time to play w/ the records in the basement a trip to every cultural event and street fair philadelphia ever had to offer to see her own reflection and smile to know that she's loved, a child of god no less than the stars & most importantly that she's gonna grow up to be just fine.
the time he likened us working our problems out to the way we'd coach each other at free cell.
i wanted to smack him in the face w/ the keyboard at that exact moment, pack my shit, & walk the fuck out. but all i had to my name were some nickels (probably not enough for the bus) & whatever food i'd bought for the week. i couldn't go back to my mom's like that. but i felt it in my gut -- i felt someone telling me to leave.
lesson #1: always listen to your first mind, no matter how crazy you might look to everyone else.
i'm not sharing with too many folks. that is, i'm not talking to anyone whom i know to be negative or whom i know for a fact doesn't really know me. i can stare into a person's blank face every day for nearly 4 years (like i do at work with some ppl) & know that they've no clue about how to treat me. & i am, for all intents & purposes, my dreams. whatever i conceptualize, whatever i decide to become, that's me. that's where i'm headed if i'm not there already. & if that person should treat my developing self poorly then how can i ever expect her or him to be good to me once i arrive at my destination? that's got to be im-fucking-possible. i'm not buying that jack-nicholson-as-the-joker smile & hands open only to make mincemeat from my most tender parts. my dreams are not meant to be picked apart or turned into a frankenstein monster by anyone except me. there will be no opportunities for detractors to take from me or lessen my potency. there is not any good reason for me to take my brand new dreams out of my pockets to show to/ share with any person who isn't also nurturing a dream. & i don't mean simply thinking of something to do with the rest of her or his life -- i mean someone who is actively putting together the pieces of that one thing they're meant (or are trying) to do w/ the rest of her or his life. i'm tired of being exposed to folks whose uncertainty about their own places in the world serves as a platform (or a castle tower) from where they pass judgment on everyone else's situation. that mess is sickening, anti-productive, & a huge waste of my time. in short, i'm not having this bullshit for much longer. it seems that there's a grillion ways to take the piss out of the good thing someone else has got going, but not as many ways to push that good thing along. anyone who's well versed in the pushing along & forward movement is welcome. all others may fall by the wayside. period. i am speaking power to my situation, regardless of what anyone has to do or say about it.
addendum: mel, post this on your mirror or something. happy birthday. stay motivated, beautiful, & strong. i love you to pieces.
she was like, "maybe there's something he would like to say to you, since it seems you've got nothing to say to him."
maybe. i mean, okay, i don't think about or see you for months. then you pop up. like, through zero invitation/ effort of mine, i see you out in the street. i don't waste my time speaking, because i don't want to. i don't wanna shoot you an email like "aaaaayooooooooo! i saw you. can we maybe try again to talk . . . this time w/ zero attitude or posturing?" i might be she of the fucked up 'tude for this, but i believe that once i give you a chance to converse w/ me & you turn it down you don't deserve another chance. not unless i want to be bothered. when this happens, i don't effin want to. & even months after that, i don't wanna. i feel like it's pointless & that it will rectify absolutely nothing for me. again, why consider you? that may be hella childish, but it's my protection mechanism. it's all i've got when i feel like someone's kicked me in the shins one time too many. & at this point i don't know if i wanna be a grownup about it. of course, it's okay to say i do. & conversely, it's fine to say that i don't. but come the fuck on, dude; in the back of my mind the scenario plays out w/ you feeling like you're the HNIC because i got at you first. i have issues that way; if we're talking, we're talking. it shouldn't be about upper hands or one party standing in a position to control the other. i always felt like that was a big thing w/ you. maybe i was always wrong? this is what needs to be discussed. the mixed signals, the misunderstandings. let's deconstruct these myths once & for all. because i'll be damned if i carry all this shit with me, on my shoulders, for the rest of my life.
this is a call to prayer, a call to action, a request for presence. i want to know that if i walk past you in the street, there's no funky energy between us. hell, i wanna wish you peace & mean it. so let's do that.
human beings transition constantly. we cannot stop folks from being born or dying. we cannot do anything about the loss of connections between ppl. this means that when that marriage unravels, whether it's yours or not, it has to be allowed to do so. when your dearest, oldest friend on earth becomes someone you no longer recognize, leave it at that. your hands have to be open so you can receive the something new/ better / different. dissolution is natural. it happens. & sometimes, through this dissolution, we find things we may have forgotten. there's a way in which we strip down. we lose the attitude, the posturing, the girdles & whale bone corsets; we go back to ourselves at age 3, peeing the bed & wondering why the fuck there's nobody who'll stop the night from swallowing us up. it's hard. it can be ugly, unpleasant, unkind, & all these other crazy things. not because there's anything wrong w/ us, but because that's what it takes sometimes. go back to the point at which you started to crack a little bit. see what the unraveling is really all about. what were the million straws under the one that broke your back? or was the first one the most impactful?
i don't know. it's taken me three days to write this. i started off writing inspired by jill scott's new album (which, for the record, i find nearly impossible to listen to) & some things that friends have been sharing w/ me about their lives. everyone seems to be going through some exceptionally rough shit at the moment. i feel bad, but at the same time i feel unmoved on some level. not unsympathetic, but . . . unmoved. i don't believe that any one of us is gonna be stuck in our current situations. i may be idealistic, maybe naive or whatever. but i know i'm not going through this bullshit for nothing. i feel like it's easier to assume that i'll be stuck in this fucked up job for the rest of my adult life, because hopefulness takes effort. it takes energy to make sure i see the whole picture, to ensure that i'm aware of the finiteness (i can't believe that's actually a word lmao) of my situation. i have options to way, moves to make. i am not stuck. i am not gonna be here, this way, forever.
change is inevitable. transition is the norm. i just have to be a part of it. for real.
the other night, i had something resembling a panic attack. i saw someone who reminded me of some things that i'd spent the better part of a year trying to shake loose/ bury/ empty my mind of. i felt like i was losing my grip on the little shell i'd built for myself to live inside of. sure, i'm social & sweet & all that other shit . . . but can we be for real? i was so shook that i was trying to avoid talking to a woman whom i know from the neighborhood . . . & all she wanted to do was say hello. it was really crazy. i felt like she didn't deserve to be treated like that. of course, i threw on the warrior face & put those feelings aside long enough to carry on a little bit of walking-up-the-block chitchat. i felt a little normalized, but mostly still fucked up. i was definitely in the beginning of a disconnect from my immediate surroundings. interacting with her was actually a really good thing. i was gaining some perspective on my situation. that's totally invaluable. i was beginning to feel a bit better. i decided that i had to feel all of it, though. trying to avoid those feelings had me jacked up to begin with, you know? emotional presence is one of those things that can be nearly impossible to practice if you've never known you were conditioned to keep your feelings to yourself. the more i remind myself of the conditioning that has essentially made me feel like i was wrong for even having feelings, the more i'm able to see where it's stopped me. of course, there's such thing as balance. i don't necessarily need to tell the lady in whole foods that i feel victimized by those damn dialoguedirect employees down the block, but i also needn't bite holes in my tongue when i'm at a family dinner & someone's praying against gay marriage. (they did it at my cousin's wedding, so why not over turkey, collards & cranberry-orange relish?) i'm being tangential again. i had to work these feelings out on my own, like a grownup. so, i did what any wise conjure woman does: i took a nice, relaxing bath & prayed/ meditated myself into a better mindset. i couldn't possibly waste my time crying or fretting, wondering what to do next. i knew what to do. i did it. sometimes, exhaling is all you need to do.
i've been there. with more than one paramour, quite honestly. it seems like they all end up the same way, too. we split up for whatever reason(s), you get somebody new, i get somebody new . . . we both live our lives, & may even still be really good friends. but i know deep down inside that i feel like i'm not finished, that you're not finished. not so much a regret that we split -- when something isn't working, it's just plain not working -- but something like a deep want to try again. i'll ignore it, because you've got someone else you're kicking it with (you're not wasting any kind of time, since you don't want the chance to miss me) & i'm doing whatever i'm doing . . . i won't let myself regret you. i won't convince myself that i should apologize profusely & call you up trying to see if there might be a way back in. this is primarily because i can't handle the idea of being rebuffed when i want to be desired & refuse to try too hard at anything i'm prone to suck at. i'm prideful that way. i'm trouble that way. & she isn't. that's why you like her so much -- she doesn't challenge you to be a better person, quite honestly. she'd never encourage you to reach for everything you've ever wanted -- because you're all she's ever wanted. a daddy, financier & lover all in one. you have the bankroll for her to hit target without flinching -- note, i said her, because she's never considerate of your money situation. it only matters when she has to pay. you don't think i know she sees you as an open wallet/ bank account/ whatever, even though you essentially make the same amount of money she does? you don't think i've noticed all these things when you talk about her to me the way you would one of your homeboys? but you'll allow it, because it's easier than being alone. because it's easier than trying to get back to what you know was harder to keep, but more worth your time. & maybe that's why i let go, too. because i'm too comfortable running shit & it's not even about control issues -- the only issue i have is that i wanna be in control. period. when i'm not at the helm, it's only because i let you be. i think that you enjoyed that as much as i am accustomed to it. so now here i am, after the fact, wondering why the fuck i even care. because i love you. & in the back of my head, i imagine where we'd be had we stuck it out or reloaded the whole thing. if we'd said "let's try one more time," & said yes to a do-over. i wonder if you would have taken my hand, had i extended it. i don't live w/ regrets or guilt, but the what-ifs surely can be a beast.
after a good two months pass, you decide to make a request to see me? after i was ready to go all the way in, & let go of my idea that the next man i deal with is gonna have to be the permanent mate/ baby maker/ cohabitator deluxe . . . you wanna come over and monopolize my saturday? man, i don't know about all that. i have shit to do tonight. i haven't got a whole day to spend with you; i barely have 3 hours of my afternoon. i don't know about all this sudden . . . interest you have in me. you wanna sniff my neck & play fight on the couch like you haven't been fucking missing in action for two, almost three months? baby, you must have had a really bad trip or something cuz it doesn't work like that. none of our mutual friends or associates ever fucking knows where -- or more importantly, how -- you are. i am not comfortable with that. you sporadically pop up on AIM, or myspace. you don't respond to my now-defunct weekly e-mails? are you fucking kidding me? a three word response would be fine. don't be an asshole about this. look, man . . . i don't think i'm there anymore. i wanted to sit on my couch and watch a movie w/ you because you're good to watch movies with. i didn't ask you to marry me, give me your sperm so i can become a mommy next spring, i didn't even ask you to be my fucking boyfriend. i simply asked you to be consistent and present. i asked you to be considerate and forthright. if you can't even do that, then what the blue fuck are we doing? you don't meet my needs. you aren't complete enough to even begin to meet your own. i know you're hurt, i know there's a hole in your heart as big is the pacific ocean, but don't penalize me for that. don't penalize your mother or your sister for that, either. our mutual friends? they care about you. i care. i think maybe we need to press that button, the reset button, & start all over. at least try to, because it's too easy for me to just decide to stick my titty in your mouth and let my wet pussy do the talking. because i do miss you, & i do feel very deeply for you. but sex isn't gonna fix it. you can't do everything i need/ want, but i'll be damned if i waste my time trying to wait for you to get it right. some things you can be taught, but some shit i'm not willing to school you on. i'd rather be alone.
i heard that you've finally gotten the opportunity to do some of the work you've wanted to for a long while. congratulations. i hope it takes off & does everything you ever wanted it to do. i wish you great success, for real. i had always hoped that you would go ahead & follow whatever path you wished to -- independent of me & everyone else on this entire earth. i don't know if you ever realized it, but all the energy you poured into worrying about wtf i did with myself was ideal for your shit. maybe you did, or perhaps because we're not in touch at all, it's easier for you to do that. either way, good for you. keep it up. the forward movement is soooooo important. i do wonder if we'll cross paths again sometime, but that's nothing i can really consume myself with. if we do, we do. & if we don't, then we don't. i haven't forgotten you though. i still remember the slick, slightly crooked smile. the smirk that came across your lips when i'd see you & you said my name . . . the playful way in which you'd greet me on the telephone, as if we were best friends & could always pick up where we left off. & we could sometimes. other days, it seemed like the estrangement was inevitable so i wouldn't even try to make it pleasant between us. formalities. & you tried to play like there was nothing brewing under the surface, as if the elephant in the room weren't sitting on both our laps. oh, well. i noticed early on that for all the mouth you had, you never wanted to go toe to toe with me. that's fine. it always made me wonder wtf you were so afraid of. i'm reasonable. i can be sweet when i want to, but my tongue does cut like a machete. words were always my forté, you said. you knew i was as dangerous with a pen as you were. only you drew. you painted. your images accomplished the same things my phrases did. i felt that you were jealous somewhat. let's face it: in everyday dealings we do not create visual art to express what we want. in situations. when your dinner is cold at a restaurant, you do not sketch dissatisfaction. i peeped that. & that's okay, too. i just wonder wtf you'd say to me now if we saw each other. would it be another greasy smile, with you asking me a grip of questions when it's not your damn business to begin with? would you really be tired enough to try to pick up where you dropped the ball? i wonder. but at the same time, i don't have the patience to even sweat you. you know how to get a hold of me. this is a belated father's day letter. hope you had a dope one.
addendum: this is a continuation of this post, but is primarily addressed to my father. i googled him today. i find it bizarre that he's worked on a parenting initiative that deals w/ child support . . . when there's at least one errant sibling i have. when he's gonna be in arrears until i'm 30+. this shit is crazy. but the parallels between him & the other person i'm thinking of are real scary.
if you see an asterisk (*) next to a blog link, that means that the blog may get you in trouble at work. so, please mind where you click when you aren't on your own machine! some of us curse a lot & that's okay, but others of us post all manner of photo/ video. links that aren't necessarily work safe get the special designation, since many of us have jobs that censor us. not like you need to be trolling around the web on company time. slacker. also: i love comments. really.
