i can't call it.

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.



red tail feathers: a story from the holy odu.

retold by my dear sister/friend myra louise jenkins the fifth who knows everything.

from the odu Ose

was the favorite wife of the king
and AAAAAAAALLLLLLLLL of the other wives were jealous of her

the other wives decided to paint Parrot's stool with a poison
so that when she sat on it
her back side became red

Parrot was HORRIFIED!!!!

and to top it all off
there was a huge festival coming up
all of the king's wives were supposed to dance
and they'd all decided that they were going to dance in the nude

Parrot went to the king
sayin' "baby i can't dance in the nude like THIS!!!!"
so he told the wives not to dance in the nude this time
they all agreed
and chose another dance to do

the day of the festival arrived
and the time came for the dance of the king's wives to begin
the drummers started to play the rhythm called
"in the nude"
"in the nude"
and the other wives began to take their clothing off
Parrot stripped down as well

and they all began to dance in the nude

the rulers of the neighboring kingdoms saw parrot's red bottom and said
"what is this wondrous thing???"

"we have never seen its like!"

"our destinies are not in order!"

"if you will not give it to us, will you sell it to us?"

and Parrot and the king
began to sell red tail feathers
and Parrot became very wealthy
and the king became very wealthy

what was once Parrot's blemish
became her blessing

"Spoilers are not as rare as Improvers
Improvers are not as numerous as Spoilers
but those who seek to spoil me actually improve me."


departures are inevitable.

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.


a very random question has come to me

in regard to sex:

if i have one pinky up in the air when i grab the dick, does that mean i'm bourgeois?

feel free to answer me in the comments.


so i finally got some big ass sunglasses.


that meant i had to play around w/ the camera phone. y'all know me.

^ wasting my life force, waiting for the a train after brunch w/ atlanta

my hair was on its own that morning. lmao. but the glasses are fly to me. forever 21 is really the spot. ;)

i'm very comfortable right now.

my cheap apartment, my 'pretty damn good for someone with no college degree' salary, regular paycheck, almost-middle-class privilege, second-hand laptop, clearance-purchased & sweatshop-manufactured clothes, hand-made jewelry, 'nice black lady' appearance... i am comfortable. i have the advantage of being perceived as heterosexual, as christian (is it just me or are black folks really into assuming that you're a worshiper of jesus?), as all those things that the dominant society is/ reflects/ seems to value.

it's starting to make me really annoyed, though. because i'm not really, like, all the way straight. because i'm nowhere near christian, muslim or jewish . . . because my mom was on public assistance when i was a kid so i know all sides of that fucked up 'welfare' system, because i don't think my vote counts but i do it anyway & hope to change shit from the inside out . . .

it's so hard biting my tongue sometimes when ppl assume that my silence is the same as agreement. i mean, in a lot of ways it can be -- but the fact that i don't say anything could mean that i don't wanna waste my time digging into your ass & laying all your shit bare. it might mean that i don't believe you'll understand me if i tell you precisely what's wrong w/ making declarations that all white ppl are inherently corrupt, that all men are terrible human beings, that your moontime is a bad thing . . . man, i don't motherfuckin know. i'm just . . . not okay w/ a lot of this shit but i'm having this problem. the problem is knowing when opening my mouth is worth it, & furthermore knowing that the person to whom i'm speaking is gonna really get it. example: i think i ranted myself into the beginnings of an asthma attack at work some weeks ago when i told the clerical assistant that making racist jokes isn't the way to get me to laugh -- just b/c you're black doesn't mean you get a pass to say nasty shit about other groups of colonized ppl. he didn't understand shit i was saying until i told him to stop talking to me for the rest of the day. that's a bit extra, probably very unprofessional, but so is cracking jokes about puerto ricans & then saying it's okay cuz you're 'part rican' w/ your not-really-kinky hair as validation of such information. fuckwad.

anyway, yeah, so... i'm less comfortable. i don't believe in letting my position of comfort be a reason not to get involved, or at the very least to give a damn. i'm trying to return to the idea of being an activist. someone once told me that he makes signs for protesters because he doesn't have the energy or time to attend these events. i nodded & thought to myself, "is that really the same as direct involvement in making shit happen?" of course there's a lot of noise made at protests, not necessarily a lot of change . . . & these shits are definitely like activist cotillions sometimes. i mean, yay signs. is it even that serious? to feel like part of the bigger 'movement' you have to make brown bag lunches for the attendees? i don't know. but to me, activism isn't about switching your vigilance on or off. in my head, i'm standing up for folks (myself included) at given opportunities, when i know i'm gonna make the biggest impact. maybe being super opportunistic isn't 'correct' activism but i'll be damned if i interrupt someone running his mouth in the supermarket about some evil jew empire or whatever the fuck. i don't care what he thinks while i'm tryna buy some toilet tissue. i'm not yet on my constant watch for bullshit. i may never be. sometimes, a sista just wants to get her tazo tea from starfucks or whole foods & just go the hell home (or to old navy).

this is a complicated thing, this being socially responsible. this being an active activist. but when you're uncomfortable, you do things to make yourself comfortable. being used to something is not the same as being comfortable. also, it's impossibly fuckin easy to be an angry blogger, a pissed off ACLU member who doesn't think they have to help send out all that fucking campaign mail* & it's impossibly simple to say you don't want ludacris showing up at your university because he said something fucked up about quote-unquote hoes/ hates on oprah/ hasn't spoken against darfur enough or at all or whatever the hell y'all are mad at this month. like . . . some of this shit is so small potatoes. or, let's pick our battles wisely enough that we can create change across the board. so many of the bullshit situations we suffer through are related to one another. maybe that's what it is. maybe the bigger picture isn't seen. saving the whales is important because nobody's looking at what's behind the danger to them -- it's the same danger that oppressed/ hunted ppl suffer. don't you think? i guess that the balance must be found before we can really put things into motion. at least, i think so.

it's 3 in the morning, i shouldn't even be messin w/ this blog right now.

i'll write something coherent at another time. not having steady internet is probably gonna cause me to write the most insanely lengthy diatribes & then posting them here. so get ready. i might have a book in me yet.

* i used to work for the ACLU. i had ppl call our offices and demand to know why we ask them to volunteer. "aren't my donations enough to, like, hire someone?" armchair philanthropist wannabe activist assholes. ugh.


the idea that i exclude ppl

from parts of my life is kinda a big joke to me.
this is a placeholder until i can fully articulate my disappointment/ annoyance at ppl

cuz basically, if i don't invite you somewhere it's because you either don't know how to act or i forgot to say something to you



exhaling can be so freeing.

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.


my internet is still having issues.

i refuse to traverse afar just so i can use someone else's internet, & it seems that the ppl i can mooch off of around here have worse connections than i do. so, what i'll end up doing, yet again, is writing bits & pieces of blog entries in hopes that i can come back to actually post them later. that seems to be an impossibility at the moment but i do plan to post up w/ good ol' gertrude (my laptop) at the cafe down the block. yay. they don't even get mad when ppl mooch their electricity. good.

so that means i'll be back later, maybe this evening, to write a few things. i feel like my creative juices don't flow very well when i'm not at home, though. maybe i can remedy that, too.


municipal e-mail of the month:

courtesy of a correspondence between a coworker and myself, regarding complaint calls that we've gotten:

There is a crazy lady who calls every so often, sometimes even on weekends. When we are here she tells us of her "AIDS infested," immigrant, disgusting, drug dealing, child molesting, rodent throwing (?!) neighbors who live at 5XXX Malcolm street. Other times she'll leave 2 or 3 messages on the voicemail on a Saturday night. She always has a new and more interesting story that she wishes to report to the "board of health." She apparently has very malicious neighbors who wish to destroy the community by injecting people with the AIDS virus, throwing fecal matter on people, or throwing rodents on people. It's always something interesting. Then she hangs up after she vents.
Today, the self-proclaimed "Dr. Reverend" Mary Jones called to report that her immigrant, non-English speaking neighbors were randomly throwing mice and rats on people and that the people were being attacked. I guess they are not molesting their animals and children today, but instead have taken up the Yankee pasttime of rat tossing. Ah, yes.

Unfortunately, there is no reason/ means to 302 her.

I love this place.

** note: 302 is the code for involuntary committal to a mental institution. please believe i changed the lady's name. cuz i don't want any of y'all looking for <insert real name here> on malcolm street in philadelphia. coworker says the lady once called & left him 3 messages about her neighbors putting AIDS in the feces and throwing them at her, thereby forcing her to need immediate medical attention & an inoculation shot. i'm still laughing, a day later, at the sheer ridiculousness. sometimes, crazy can be funny. y'all watch "flavor of love," don't you?

last night i was talking to

my girl lauren about life, love, ifa, damaged ppl & some other random stuff.
& i realized: i am sooooo blessed to have clear-thinking folks in my circle. to have friends who're really about being good, whole ppl . . . man, that's wonderful. not everyone is interested in being a whole person. not everyone does what they need to do to right themselves first & worry about everything else later.
*this is a placeholder, until i get my internet right &/ or come back home to finish writing.

meh: an update.

1) i'm paying earthlink for internet service. earthlink is cheap. earthlink is trying to make this city wireless. you get what you pay for. i am beyond annoyed. i can't even blog from home! gah.

2) there is a major scandal brewing at my job. i work in human resources, & that basically means that the inspector general is gonna be down our throats sooner as opposed to later. not just the HR manager. like, the whole office might get called before whomever wants to know about us. lordy be. i'm keeping a low ass profile at the gig. i'm crazy but not stupid. i need to pay close attn & keep my ear to the ground, f'real.

3) i would rather be fucking. seeeeeriously. you have no idea.

4) i discovered that there's been a four legged creature visiting my apartment. i will kill it, like i did the other one. sorry. if you don't pay rent & aren't a welcomed domesticated creature you have to go.

5) i found out that someone i don't fuck with like that is not only friends w/ someone else i don't fuck with like that, but that they both seem to think the world of me & want me to kick it wiht them, despite my apparent demonstration of not-wanting-to-fuck-with-them-ness. (yeah, i know.) i want them to be clear on my unwillingness to be bothered, without my having to scream or gnash my teeth. wish me luck.

6) i'm gonna start giving ppl 3 days to pay for bath products. i am not about to waste my life force making salts/ bombs (especially damn bombs) for ppl who don't seem to understand that they need to pay for what they order when they say they will. this especially applies to the girl in my office who waited 3 weeks to tell me she didn't have $6 for some bath salts. wtf? boo, i know you don't have it. that's why i didn't bring them shits to your desk... & don't think i'm giving you a sample or freebie cuz i feel bad. it's your prerogative to spend bath salts money on mcdonald's, the same way it's mine to take these joints home to take a bath with. holler.

7) amy winehouse's first album is so drastically different (sonically) from her first that she almost sounds like a different person. it's kinda sad, like on some carmen mcrae shit.

8) that being said, keyshia cole needn't be on the cover of the new essence. that's vomitous. falcor the luck dragon made the cover before they found a "down" white woman? i'm not buying that shit, kid. (if you don't know i'm joking please let this be your warning. but something about keyshia cole makes me itch incessantly. i don't know what it is.)

9) riesling is something that i never should have discovered. i love it so much that i wanna name all my babies riesling. really.

10) tomorrow (really today) i go for allergy tests. oh, lord. if i find out that i've got celiac disease i'm gonna cry a LOT. then i'm gonna find out how to make bread out of not-wheat. yeah. that's a word i just made up.

11) knowing that a girlfriend of mine is pregnant, two friends are going through divorces, & that most of my attached friends are either having drama or dating complete loons has made me feel much better about rolling solo. it sucks when i wanna cuddle on the sofa, but screw all that emo crap. i'm bad all by myself.

12) i just got cayenne pepper up my nose. damn.

13) my crush probably doesn't know he's my crush, & that's okay.

14) season 4 of the wire on dvd soon. YES! more cutty. thanks, netflix!

15) i'm one day going to be a homeowner. that's neat.


my net connection is acting up

so i will make this really short and hella obvious:
i am featured in the latest edition of reloaded, here.


some other crazy mess

my intern said:
"i was so offended, well, kinda offended, when i saw knocked up. because, you know, they didn't have to show the baby comin' out and all that."
smartly, i asked him what the rating of the film was. he responded that it had an 'r' rating. i coyly giggled, "that's just what you get for seeing a film that you technically shouldn't have without an adult guardian present, instead of your only friend who's 18 already."

inspired by miss dark daughta's post on what society at large wishes to quote-unquote protect children from seeing.

i'm not gonna waste my time picking apart his logic. i don't have the energy to. his internship is over, so now i have to tackle the recurring problem of my supervisor's apparent unwillingness to make sure that the temporary office assistant actually knows how to do and executes his job. fuck the both of them, for the record. i have much anxiety about this job.

that's another post for another time.


maybe i'm just a mean old heifer.

i don't know. basically, yesterday, my intern (he's 16) asked me if i understood what mos def was talking about in his songs. that is, asked, "you hear the messages in his music, talking about the third eye and all that?" i blinked. i replied, "yes, i hear him. & i don't think what he's saying is wrong, necessarily." intern then says, "it's a shame that he thinks that way," or something like that. i had to take a deep breath, then politely inform youngin that no matter how much you listen to someone's music, you're only gonna begin to align your personal beliefs with what's expressed in their music if you feel you should. i give my brain more credit than that. i also had to let intern know that it's not ever okay to assume that (a) someone is a particular religion, (b) that they wanna have religion-based conversations with you, or (c) that anyone withn hearing range wants to be party to such a discussion. we work in city government. that's a really bad idea. i also had to let him know, that whatever a person believes (or doesn't believe) about god, it's not any other human being's business. period. he got kinda quiet. then said "i didn't wanna get up in your business, i was just sayin . . . he shouldn't think that way." i didn't waste time asking why. because i choose not to have that kind of talk with ppl at my job -- i barely talk to ppl outside of work about my faith tradition or anything religion-related. i just reminded him that assumptions aren't okay. i left it at that.

i know this child to be very much into church, into being a 'warrior for christ,' as i've heard him say. (that shit makes me cringe, just for the record) i know that he reminds me of myself when i was about 12. i thought i had to be extra preachy gospelly . . . that i had to tell the world about jesus & tell ppl they're wrong for being non-christians. of course, as i got older, i realized that i love secular music. i also realized that i didn't necessarily think jesus was my savior. i had questions that were not being answered by anything i read in the bible, nor did i have questions that were being answered by my elders. i also found that i disliked the idea that i had to maintain some standard of purity in my life, lest my humanity allow me to fall prey to the tools / whims of satan . . . who really was just a disgruntled former angel in the first place. there were too many holes. too many things that made no sense to me. so i kinda sat back & watched. i let everyone who identified as a christian show me how they were far from emulators of jesus christ himself. i shrugged, shook it off, & kept moving.
i dunno, my whoooooooole entire family (save my grandfather, one uncle & maybe one or two relatives by marriage) lean on jesus extra hard. that's cool, if it works for them. i think my baby sister might be one of us witchy yoruba santeria lucumi vodou candomblé goddess worshiper types. but i dunno for sure. my overwhelming feeling is that black folks allow whether or not someone is a christian be their deciding factor in regard to whether or not that person is acceptable.
there's a fatal flaw in that: there are folks who you may attend church with, who still don't have the same values you do, for whatever reason(s). i come from a family that values dialog but is still at times very authoritarian. my mother taught my two sisters & me to be as critically-thinking as possible. that didn't go terribly well with my grandmother, grandfather & two uncles. but they all managed to get the hell over it at some point -- they created little encyclopedia-reading monsters who never stopped wondering/ creating/ thinking. & it became okay. nerdiness is woven into the fabric of my family, & along with that comes talking & introduction of new ideas. my extended family identifies as christian, but what about the nurturing of growth/ encouragement of education that i experienced at home? if it doesn't apply to them does that automatically make them bad/ wrong?
but i'm getting off topic. my basic idea about exclusively using your religion as a measuring stick for others -- especially & including those who identify within the same religion -- is that your measuring stick is the result of your interpretation almost exclusively. that's not accurate. furthermore, variables are unavoidable. people vary. period. that's a dangerous thing. it's like fitting a square peg into a very round hole.
i hope intern learns as he gets older that that kinda shit isn't okay. he may not -- he comes from a position of privilege within the social circles where he exists. patriarchy rules supreme in his world (the worst thing i've ever heard come out of this child's mouth is that no woman should ever break up w/ her high school sweetheart just because she doesn't wanna have a long distance relationship), & it guarantees his comfort. so, i don't know. he has no idea what this wide world holds for him as a black male in america.
i hope he he learns, though. gently, easily, gradually. because the next person may not even entertain the idea of being sweet or diplomatic. i know what it is to have everything you believe in snatched out from under you. but then again, he may need that . . .


now look, dammit

i don't know who all on earth might find themselves browsing this blog. & i know the language or the random rants about r. kelly might throw you off. you may even feel inclined to stop reading because i talk about sex freely & don't have any trouble discussing my occasional toke. but if there's any one thing you need to know about me, it's that i do not think domestic abuse is acceptable or okay in any situation. it just isn't. i'm not hearing that "he's a good person" shit, i don't care if "all she did was" hit you once. i don't give a rat's ass. it's not okay. the idea that your abuser has any redeeming qualities, to me, is a damn joke. they nullify all of those things once they choose to put their hands on you, once they put forth any effort to control you by using violence. i do not believe that there's any dialog to be had, there's no reason to try to work it out. the first thing you need to do is get away. the second thing you need to do is stay away. if there's a need to return to a home you share w/ the abuser, have someone escort you (preferably the police or other neutral party) & get your shit. don't negotiate. don't let the begging & pleading & all that other hot bullshit be part of the equation, if you can help it. get out, get away, stay gone. if there are children involved, of course it's not that easy. but there are ways out. please don't ever think there aren't. please.

this post was inspired by juanita bynum's interview with fox 5 atlanta regarding her having been attacked by her now-estranged husband, thomas weeks. she had a press conference the other day. i'm really kind of ecstatic that sis chose to announce that domestic violence in the church isn't just about the church, but something that crosses boundaries. i'm thankful that she can say that unflinchingly. i hope that she's genuine in her stance. i hope that she is really, fully okay with taking on the mantle of being an anti-domestic violence advocate. i really hope she's sincere. she has so many ppl who buy her books and watch her on tv, etc. she is in a position to demonstrate positive things to so many folks.
i hope she does turn this around.


music survey that i stole from aj

List 10 musical artists that you like:

1. esthero
2. the roots
3. jill scott
4. feist
5. mos def
6. nina simone
7. eric roberson
8. outkast
9. bilal
10. lizz wright

What was the first song you ever heard by 6?
i think it was "my baby just cares for me," maybe "see-line woman"

What is your favourite album of 8?
hmmm... atliens

What is your favorite lyric of 5?
that's a tough one. probably something from "climb"

What are your three of your favorite songs by 7?
errrmmm... "rock wit u," "for you," & "a dream"

What are your favorite three songs by 2?
"star," "the next movement,"& "adrenaline"

What are your three favorite songs by 10?
"soon as i get home," "salt," & "fire"

What is your favorite album by 1?
breath from another. of course.

How did you get into 4?
i was listening to lettuce's last.fm radio station & then i heard "inside and out." it was a wrap after that.

What are your three favorite songs by 3?
"sweet justice," "my love" & um... um... "not like crazy"

What is a good memory concerning 2?
every concert of theirs i've ever ever ever ever been to

Is there a song by 8 that makes you emotional?
not especially. but an ex boyfriend put 'jazzybelle' on a mix tape...

What are your three favorite songs of 1?
"i love you," "country livin' (the world i know)" & "we r in need of a musical revolution"

What is your favorite song of the 9 artist?
after all this time it's probably a toss up btwn 'fast lane' & 'something to hold onto'

1. Of all the bands & artists in your collection, which one do you have the most of?
either the roots or outkast, i really am not certain

2. What was the last song you listened to?
"skyy, can you feel me" by raphael saadiq

3. What's in your CD player right now?
on the laptop: the evolution of robin thicke

4. What is your favorite instrument?
drums, maybe the tambourine

5. Who's your favorite local band?
the roots.

6. What was the last concert you attended?
mos def

7. What was the greatest concert you've ever been to?
that's a toss up btwn the roots new year's eve show in 2004 and the roots & special guests radio city show

8. What's the worst band you've ever seen in concert?
van hunt's band was great but i didn't like him. & when i saw donnie earlier this summer he was TACKY...

9. What band do you love musically but hate the members of?
lol, what an odd question. i dislike dice raw but nouveau riche is kinda tight.

10. What is the most musically involved you have ever been?
i was in chorus in high school & definitely plan to go back to voice lessons & maybe get a side gig singing backup for somoene

11. What show are you looking forward to?
none right now. i'm being a jackass when i say this, but i want angela bofill to recover from her stroke so she can start performing again. i'm kinda holding my breath for that one, though it seems really improbable

12. What is your favourite band shirt?
police 'ghost in the machine' replica shirt courtesy of my beloved billster

13. What musician would you like to hang out with for a day?
hmmmm... probably muhsinah, mj zilla, or amy winehouse BEFORE the drug addiction

14. What musician would you like to be in love with you for a day?
mos told me he loved me back when i howled "I LOVE YOU" to him ... so i think i already got that one handled. as a backup? black thought

15. What was your last musical "phase" before you wizened up?
i used to buy shit at the suggestion of someone who thought ludacris was a musical genius.

16. Sabbath or solo Ozzy?
does it matter?

17. Did you know that filling out this survey makes you a music geek?
it makes me later for work.

18. What was the greatest decade for music?
the 90s

19. What is your favorite movie soundtrack?
NOT LOVE JONES. lol. probably dead presidents or wattstax

20. What would you be without music?
bored & angry

on: comfort and safety

someone once told me i'm too attached to material things. this someone is male, black, american-born and raised, & claimed that it was absurd of me to care so much about things that were/ are mine. this person grew up w/ several siblings in a single-parent household & though i could identify w/ certain aspects of his stance, i found myself largely feeling like he never got what i was talking about when i expressed a need for what i call my creature comforts. for me to feel comfortable in an environment that i haven't designed to my liking, i tend to do what i can to create familiarity around myself. isn't this what most humans do? at a new job, don't you look around to see how or if your contemporaries have their workspaces decorated? when you come into a new apartment or house, don't you make it into what you want it to be & aim toward your ideals? creating comfort -- especially in my home -- makes it easier to cope w/ the many things that i feel daily (or otherwise regularly) assault me outside these walls. but maybe that doesn't matter to anyone else. not that it necessarily has to.

in this entry, dark daughta explores what codes of conduct for oneself do in the way of creating/ maintaining sanity & safety. she says: "I'm...slowly...raising...my hands...over...my head... I don't have a gun...a chainsaw...a hacksaw...or a knife...I've got words, thoughts, questions, a keyboard and a Code."

** i know this isn't finished. it may never be.


gratitude #6:



the circle of new friends into which i've been absorbed

ppl who appreciate simple shit


folks who're not wise enough to password-secure their wireless networks

coconut milk

the nail salon up the block from me


knowing when i shouldn't do something, & sticking to that


yeye mi

gentle winds of change

baba mi

the fire it takes to speak up

favela rising

honest yet tactful critics

the eyes to see what's really going on

finding new blogs

yummy smelling bath stuff

knowing that what i really want is well on its way

collard greens



my crafty leanings


my sunday boo (we need to really plan these dinners)

i sit at the seat of bliss... no matter what. i am carving out for myself the place i want to be most.

i tried really hard to hold my breath

& refrain from speaking on terrence howard's declaration that women who don't clean themselves w/ baby wipes are 'just unclean.' i wanted really badly to refrain from giving his low-talent ass any more shine than he's already gotten for playing such brilliant characters as the around-the-way barfly named cowboy (dead presidents), chu chu (biker boyz) & the 'struggling pimp' djay (hustle & flow). i didn't say he couldn't act, but outside of his light skinnedness & wearing church clothes to virtually every event he attends, what's the draw?
but anyway. i was tryna bite my tongue, then i remembered that this here blog is mine to do what i wanna do with it. so, here goes:

first off, this motherfucker is not important enough to go around telling anybody how to wipe their asses, short of an infirmed or infantile family member of his. he's not a doctor. he is an actor. he gets paid to dress up and make believe that he's someone else & he isn't even good at that! let's not allow him to have that much influence over our bathrooms, our anuses or our purchase of baby wipes. i have a girlfriend who's a doctor & she expressed some annoyance that grown ppl (who come to her & end up getting rectal exams) don't fully wipe their asses. i'd listen to dr. homegirl before i listen to that guy. because it's what she's spent 3 years in school for. because she's begun a residency. it's her job to be concerned with health/ hygiene.

secondly, i have to point out the overall tone of the interview. he seems to fall into the category of a misogynistic woman hater. i say he seems to, because i don't know him & have only ever read this one interview w/ him. but the idea that he's a woman-hater is backed up by this article on jezebel.com. there as also a fashion shoot in an old issue of vibe magazine with the theme of a couple going through their daily routine or whatever, where one photo depicted him grabbing or shaking the female with whom he did the shoot. i don't like that. not one fucking bit. my eyebrow is at least raised in that man's general direction.

thirdly, as pointed out by (my new favorite blogger) dark daughta in this post, he's sans vulva. he is not an authority on vaginae, vulvae, clitorises, or anything else that biologically belongs to women. sorry. nope. to quote my beloved grandfather, "what's wrong with that rabbit brain?" honest to goddess, unless you study vulvae from a medical standpoint (being a porn hound does not a coochie expert make) i kinda don't wanna hear it. really.

so, in short: terrence dashon howard needs to shut the fuck up.


oh, jill.

jill, jill, jill. i feel this song fully.

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.

these people aren't pro-life . . .

they're killing doctors. © george carlin

i love him
& i appreciate dark daughta for posting this clip. i think that her blog (see the 'caminos de mis hermanas' link list) is an important one. check out all of her links, peep the birth photo log (wow, okay? it's beautiful) . . . just enjoy. i really, really, truly feel good when i read her words.


a hilarious chat w/ my mom

(& her homegirl) yielded a rather interesting response when i mentioned that a friend of mine thinks it's a good thing for her & her husband to split up for a while, if not permanently. i expressed that my girl was probably on the verge of killing dude in his sleep. & without missing a beat, mommy & ladonne gave the infamous international black woman response: MMMPH. that's no acronym, babies, that's the actual sound they made. that, like a clicking of the tongue, can say everything without actual words being used. that was an empathetic sentiment; mommy said, "note that i didn't say 'aww,' or encourage you to tell her to seek some help. she'll be aight. just tell her he isn't worth catching a court case."
that's my mom, folks.
dunno wtf i'd do without her.

okay, what the hell is going on here?

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.