BOONDOCKS

boondocks, a no go for mo

i decided. i cant watch it. i tried. and while i loved the joint about the itis and martin luther coming back and being disappointed, there are too many negatives that outweight the positives.

and everyone tells me im wrong. that it's irony and "yadda yadda yadda". but im thinking, atleast in the comic strip HUEY was the conscious of the strip. now they have him saying "ho" and "Nigga" with the lil cousin. i appreciate mcgruder for getting a gig - lord knows i do - but hip hop already started the destruction of blackness with the promotion of the "N" word and now, here we are - reintroducing it to cartoons. remember the black crows and yosemite sam and all those other looney tunes that were pulled for its racist antidotes? how does boondocks differ from that?

and i know what you are thinking "but you LOVE south park" -- but south park talks about EVERYONE, there is always a sound mind saying "shut up cartman. that's stupid you racist jerk" and then the cheesy but TRUE moral ending. boondocks doesnt offer that. it takes the one person with some sense and makes him just as bad as the lil' cousin that doesn't mean "nigga in a disrespectful way".

which leads me to believe, the broadcast of this show, with the hold it has on adult swim viewers, will only make easier for that word to be resurrected. i mean, they call each other Nigga in Japan. it has an entire series dedicated to the mother, father, grandfather, son and daughter waking up and instead of saying "HELLO" they yell "NIGGGGA".

but recently, a teacher trying to prove a point, repeats "can i get a pencil, nigga" and he's fired! he explained, "i wanted to show the irony" but how different is this thinking than what the tv show is encouraging. and he's suspended without pay. even though teachers and school officials allow the students to yell this to each other at the top of their lungs in the hallway, the lunchroom and the classroom. i have seen it with my own eyes.

so when my 8 year old, said the word after hanging out with her cousins, i freaked. but i didn't wild out like i thought i would. i just cried. i could feel the deceased turning over in the ocean with each syllable. and that's the beginning of the end. they desensitize us. put it in our music, our drinks, our everyday life. teach our children that if the cartoons say it - then it aint that bad. stir and wait.

and yea, the BOONDOCKS is not for child consumption - but neither are the posterboards and the commercials. nevermind the adults who watch it and repeat it around kids and at kids. racism has no age discrimination, trust me, N I G G A.

there are times in my life when i felt like a nigga. many times when i felt like a nigga bitch. and this is one of them.

STOMACH YUCK YUCK

stomachs can be tricky. i am glad to be back to normal. i really want a bagel - but i dont want to walk in the cold to get it :(

i should stop being lazy. but this is my only other day off before i teach tomorrow (double workshops then hosting the southpaw) breathe

i am running out of reasons to stay still. unless im sick, im running myself ragged. and i finally figured it out. i think that im damn near a failure if every minute of my day isnt accounted for. i have triple booked myself and thought "i can do this".
this must be a condition. i have to look it up.

today, is my last day off before i head back to the grindstone. we have only 2 weeks to move these tickets for the women's show -- but the line up is so sick, im sure the tickets will sale themselves. but until they do: im hitting the pavement, making these ideas manifest into reality - cause no one controls my destiny but me...

life as i know it -- or food poisoning in NYC

my stomach is twisting right now
earlier it was doing the harlem shake
and before the night is up - im sure we will be
salsa'n...

i had take away from the bklyn moon. a spot famous for their anti-bush specials (5 dolla meals) and
where saul williams started spitting poetry.
where mos def once hosted and e Patrick (original host of the Def Poetry before it got picked up by Simmons and HBO) made home for poets on a budget. they deaded the poetry several years ago, leaving a gap wide open for poets uninterested in slamming at the nuyo. they also have the absolute best guava lemonade, which is only available whenever they feel like it being available -- which in turn drives the demand for it -- even more.

their curry potatoes are also heaven.

but this moment. where i chomp down pepto tablets like tic tic -- is hell. i've been staring at my red velvet cake from the famed bklyn "cakeman". and i cant even get a bite in without my stomach doing the tootsie roll.

maybe its my body saying we need a break from this weekend. it was hectic. or maybe - the salmon wasn't cooked right.

DAMNNNNNNNN

running

still

be

back

soon

SOLD OUT!!!

JAM n CHEESY BREAD

im tired. but a good productive, worked my ass off this week tired. let's reflect:

mon: hosted culture shock
tues: nuves in queens open mic, 2 ticket sales
wed: nuyorican, interview & 1 last ticket sale
thurs: remy martin performance poetry demonstration
fri: studio with eska, theatre key pick up, check pick up...

tired, i am. but it's all for a good reason. we have sold out yet another show. it's a blessing. it's determination. it feels so right. this moment of satisfaction rolled up into a nice, tight, tired ball of exhaustion. we have to move so much stuff tomorrow i can't even begin to think straight. then guess what -- we do it all over again in two weeks!

www.jamonitpoetry.com

JAM ON IT present

TAKE BACK THE MIC

featuring

Queen Sheba
Dasha Kelly
Bassey Ikpi
Christa Bell

i will share their accolades later. when i can remember my name. and to breath. between blinks and ...

29 hours and counting

honestly

i haven't slept since yesterday this time. i tried to take a nap around 5pm, but that didn't work out so well, as i had a meeting at a upscale liquour company. something about poetry and alcohol -- i always get the goods. (shout to shihan for the look out).

but here's the funny, but not so, funny ish: i had to write a poem that fit the theme. as, i am more of a depressing person than preacher type. so after i received the go ahead at midnight, during the last round of the nuyorican slam, i headed home in a storm. upset. frustrated. tired. defensive.

but i did it. made myself smile a couple of times between the sips of old coffee and watching him sleep. he tried to stay up with me. that's how we roll. if someone is under pressure - the other holds down the bed... lol -- but i finished it. at 445am i called the dude for creative approval and listened to him hold his breath "you are amazing". he expounded. i sighed. not happiness. not satisfaction. not even relief -- but some sort of despair.

i dont know if it was my pride or integrity tapping at conscience. that's prolly what kept me up all night. thinking - is this something that i would really repeat... so i went back and did more editing. more typing. more printing. no ink. no sleep. no sleep. finally finished. i held a bigger smile this time. feeling like a part of me was still very whole and connected again. like this life of a poet wasn't as bad as i thought. like - this is what i live for. these moments, when no one but i and my pen can type out an amazing piece of work to represent the artform right. represent women and black artists. and i felt so good. so good that i fell into a nap that would be interrupted by him waking me up and saying "u betta go, ma".

so i went. and i was proud that it was a poet being paid to write poetry and recite poetry and live poetry; instead of "someone" writing a "poem" for an "actor" to act like they think a "poet" would "act" when reciting a two-minute diatribe of assimilated mush for the masses.

i promise, i made ya'll proud.

word

yesterday

in the cold



took pics throughout the borough that is bklyn
kris from london (by way of norway) was in effect
and somehow we ended the evening in a bunch of bushes

she was attacked by the pricklies -- and for even measures,
she made me sit on a rock sculpture and pierce my ass!

overall: great shoot. cool as all hell - but here's to art!

running like mad today. the show is on saturday and i have a lot
of confirmations -- besides, check pick up and doctor
refferal drop offs.

thinking of u

love is

LOVE IS

smelly socks
my favorite dinner just because
hugging when i need it most
kisses when i least expect it
music for rhythms sake
passion for limber's sake
loving for the need of it
shoulders for the tears
truth for the breathless
space in time for silence
pencils cause i like it
dirty dishes, tubs and floors
conversations til daybreak
teasing til stomach's ache
fingertips touching because it's right

a wrap up

it's been a long time - well. 4 days to be exact. forgive me?

a bit of a wrap up - shall we?

friday: left bklyn@ 7 am on my way to milwaukee. the weather.com says it's gonna be 15 degrees, i grab the full length goose down. damnnn. after a lay over in detroit, i finally make it to milwaukee. taalam greets me at the curb with assistance and a black n mild. we are both billed along with a cat named PACO for the fudraiser that evening. i haven't eaten and it's almost 3pm. perkins is suggested and we walk in the snow, slowly, for a diner haven of sorts. it's good food. though i have to send back the chicken strip sandwich, as bacon slices has snuck in between my bread. no biggie. fill up on fries and hot chocolate before my plate returns and before we head back to our respective rooms. i sleep hard. but not until i take a bath. i miss baths. brooklyn isn't giving of this treatment. whatever

at 8pm, my girl adaugo comes thru and checks me out with bacardi limon in a water bottle - she's discreet! lol we laugh like old times are of the now before leaving for the african american holocaust museum. that's where chase's gift - a heart disease charity event will be held. 9pm - 6am is the run of the event. this includes, movies, video games, team activities, facials and hand massages, food - food and mo food. by 3am, my call time for the stage, i am delirious. but my hostess and the non-profit founder dasha knows me well. she has purchased a venti sized white chocolate mocha (w/2% MILK) for this occassion. she is brilliant. but im still going crazy, so between performing and playing spades with remy, boo and dan (the man) i find my happy place. breakfast served @ 5am - but i decline. my hotel room is calling me loudly.

sat: just hours later. i awake because taalam is a hater! he's hungry and in need of internet access. im still sleep and speaking like a young man, deep voice that is. after talking with J and the baby. i decide to find my feet and walk my ass to the bathroom to get dressed for breakfast. we walk again to the diner heaven and fall into some french toast and eggs with mushrooms and tomatoes. the french toast reminds me that i miss brooklyn. or was it the early morning conversation with J. either way, i'm ready to go home. but we have an interview that we are already late for - and a gig in madison with my friend dave. after the interview (which they didnt i know i was there for -- niiiice) dave comes to save us and take us to madison. he arrives at my door ready to take my luggage to the car. but my luggage isn't ready at all. i forgot im flying out of madison the following morning, so i'm running around like a maniac. we finally get on the road and make it to madison - and hour and change away, missing our dinner reservations - but just in time for the event. we perform. i got open tab at the bar, so i find my happy place -- and am allowed a position as a judge for the slam. C-Love sits at the product table and is very efficient, though he keeps nudging the product to the side before i have to lay the smack down... lol -- after the show - which runs over time, before we are rushed outta there, we head to the weary travelerer. its like a bar with food. really. loud. and interactive. and WOW. the food is ok, the company is better - but the cold front that blows through the door every 5 minutes overshadows this beauty. i am happy when i say my farewells and head to the car - knowing that the hotel bed awaits me.

sun: really just hours later. i am packed and showered and ready for Dave to escort me to the airport. it's just minutes away from the hotel. i finally board and fall asleep instantly before i awake in detroit. with an hour layover, i have time to lollygag to my next gate. so i do. finding a starbucks on the way and grabbing a lemon poppyseed muffin, before settling near my gate. i laugh with J until they call me to board and i smile.

touch down in NYC. and i'm running mad. i have a sound check at 6pm in the village and it's 4pm -- still in Queens. damn. run to the cab stand, grab a taxi - only for him to get in a fight with the dispatcher. and then he drives away. only to stop minutes later and have to fix his flat tire. great. it's 420pm. he finally gets me home to kiss my daughter and my man by 440pm. he has seafood dinner waiting for me. i am more happy to see their faces. we eat and laugh at the SHOP for an hour. i change pants, brush teeth and run for the door @ 550pm. i am already late. but they are worth it. take the williamsburg bridge. cross houston to the village. find parking and am greeted by a young man asking for an autograph. dammit keith boogie! we walk in to groove and i check in with eska. she is set up on stage but has a look of despair on her face. the keyboard they provided is not what she expected. no worries. i grimace. let's ride to harlem. after beating off traffice on the FDR, we return to a standing room only house. we still have an hour to perform. which then turns to 2 hours. we finally get to get on the stage -- and its magnetic. we act up together. i love that woman. and we make it happen like whoa. and right when we are getting it together -- we are hurried to end the set because the house band has arrived and want their time to shine. dammit ginaaaaa! eska is just finishing her FIRST song, after our few minutes together and i want to cry. ray is apolgetic. the crowd loves her so much they beg for more. but the ego of the house band wins over, and i dont even have enough fight in me for the long haul. so i hug everyone good bye. apologize to my girl and head home.

monday. we are going to breakfast. im still tired. but this is amari's day off -- so we are gonna do a lil something before i pass out, again.

update:

grudges - 0
writing - picked up intensely
internet - you see what i did over the weekend, dang
happiness - found it

OK - short breaths

this is goin' be shorter than

workshops this morning, two tolls - all bad, great kids, hair appointment, still haven't packed for WI, meet up with eska for rundown on show set (19th and 25th - check the myspace for locations) and home by 10pm.

head hurts. but i did get to snatch a red cupcake from the $45 dolla red velvet bklyn cake man.

holla

PAP SMEAR

PAP SMEAR or the 3rd date, depending on how you look @ it.

the fact that i sat in the doctor's office for 3 hours, just to get a referral on my new INSURANCE for my OLD PHYSICAL THERAPIST is beyond me. and on valentine's day, no less.

so i sit there. smelling people that i've only wished i'd run from. watching judge alex, judge hatchett, judge hatchett (no repeat, just a double taping) and family feud where i want the black family to just shut their mouths instead of answering every question with the word "chicken". seriously.

so i'm finally in the second room waiting with the nurse, when she weighs me and tells me what i fear the most. yes. i have gained 20 pounds in a year. sigh i hate this world. fine. i'm heavier courtesy of bed rest. so what?! tears are slowing cascading inside my dome like a waterfall (damn poet). but really. i zip up my sweatshirt hoody and wait for the rest of the world to stop spinning. or atleast, the black family on family feud to stop saying "chicken".

dr whoever calls me back into the room and says, because its my first time as their patient, i need a physical before they can give me a referral.
"but i only want a referral"
"i can't give it to you without your information being in our system"
"i've been with this hospital for a year. im in your system"
"but we dont have you as a patient with the family doctor, do you understand?"
"i understand that you have had me waiting for 2 hours just for a referral, do you understand"
"im so sorry, i will make this quick for you - but we have to do a physical"

jump scene
"i refuse for you to give me a breast examination"
"ok. no refuse a rectal exam"
"i soooo refuse your rectal exam"
laughing "i mean, i know it's valentine's day but..."
"you sure are a funny doctor. what's your name. i want to put this on my blog"
"what's that?"
"nevermind. can i go yet?"

and then he tells me. i need a papsmear. like that is the ugliest word in the dictionary, i swear. and yea, i know its important. to find out if there is a trace of cancer, if your cervix is healthy, all those things. great. but the word? ughhh maybe we can call it - the vagina check up. that's even nicer than PAP SMEAR. say that damn word outloud and watch everyone grimace. go ahead, try it. seeeeeee! that's what i'm saying.

i mean, smearing anything from my pap -- just sounds rude. and i don't want nobody smearing nothing of mine. period.

A QUICKIE

investigation: 00718

different things. really quick

why are quickies called quickies? i mean, aren't they just as satisfying as the long-ez?

poetry biters are still wierd.

poetry beef is still stoopid!

ok - enough with the poetry, raise your hand if you hate SNOW! (not talking to those tucked away in the beautiful land that is california).

when's the last time u kissed someone so long your lips got chapped? and dont you miss that? that's that middle school type of loving!

judging amy is really really cool. but her mother is even cooler.

read me:
http://lovesexymagazine.com/mambo/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=126&Itemid=105

J-DILLA Passes from Bone Marrow Compilcations

RIP J-Dilla (from SLUM VILLAGE)

Detroit hip-hop producer Jay Dee, also known as J Dilla, died Friday at a Los Angeles hospital from complications from lupus. He was 32 years old.

Details about his death were vague when reports of his passing surfaced; but his manager confirmed about the main cause of his early and unexpected death.

Dilla had been living with his mother in Los Angeles since being diagnosed with the immune system disease about three years ago.

He is credited as a founding member of the Detroit collective Slum Village but left the group after their first album.

Dilla had produced for Common, Madlib and A Tribe Called Quest, just to name a few.

Jay Dee's latest solo album, Donuts, was released earlier this week

FROM Snow HELL to Soul HEAVEN

from snow hell to soul heaven and back
Jam On The Open Mic featuring Eska, Femi, Troy, Taiwah, Jae & Olatuja was an incredible experience. Though Eska and friends were late by an hour (blame the cab driver for the scenic route) it was well worth the wait. She was so phenomenal, I watched people crying as they fawned and fell over her greatness. very sweet, indeed.

and the next day was crazy! i mean really. check the schedule:

9am - wake up
10am - wake up again
11am - drop off J and pick up amari and her god sister
11:10am - take linisha to the city
noon - take the girls to chuck e cheese
2pm - take the girls to african dance class
3pm - after NYC traffic, watch girls have fun with african paint (amari erased the pic)
4pm - drop off marielle, wait for amari to find her phone
5pm - crash in burn in bed

now today. it's a snow day. everything including my workshop and the slam summit meeting have been cancelled. think i want some breakfast now...

SO MUCH AND NO TIME...STILL pArt DEUx

so there's like this fork

in the middle of the road. and i'm sitting there. wondering which way to go. left: i can go to the national poetry slam and represent NYC, again. last year's event was a beautiful experience and not so beautiful experience. but it was an experience nonetheless. something poets and writers need to have atleast once in their lifetime. this year, would be my fourth...

then there is the right of the fork: it is a writer's conference in the Northwest, where I can meet with publisher's and literary agents for possible projects. there is also a summer writer's workshop in Italy that allows me to take my daughter...! these both are annual events, but i have the opportunity for NOW...

i'm stuck.
i'm lost.
i dunno

what's next?

bklyn stumptified

RESOLUTIONS check TWO

CHECK ONE, CHECK TWO

internet: 2 - 6 hours, after writing and editing :) niiiiice

grudges: 0 - and i've been really good at keeping it that way! found out about a couple of persons speaking of me with rock tongues and it's cool. i mean, really. like 50 said - "i need you to hate me. it fuels me!"

happiness: so far so good. two of the teachers i that work with (two different sites) tried their hardest to extend my class schedules with them, all because they didnt want to see me leave their class. and guess what -- iT WOrkED! but what's huge is, they were both so supportive in my work with the kids and so gracious -- it made me smile all day :) sweeet

writing: didn't i tell you i was on it like WHITE on RICE? BLACK on COAL? WET on WATER?! what! i'm feeling real good about the latest writings. its coming together quite nicely.

TV: ok. wire is every tues and thurs. and i haven't been watching all the reality tv that i like -- but most of it :)

flavor of love
beauty and the geek
gauntlet
survivor
american idol

whatever. i like it -- so there :)

feng shui: cleaned my house. my shelves are beautiful. my books are neatly stacked and my cd's have been stored under the bed. i mean, 5000 cd's get to collecting dust...

bklyn pride

BECAUSE I DONT HAVE TIME

remind me

to talk about the lil cow that disrespected her fiancee on real world ("the ring he got me was horrendous. horrible. ohmigod!") i'm thinking -- CHICK! atleast he proposed to yo monkey ass! he could've stayed with you for 8 years, got you to co-sign on his car, knock you up -- then decide that you and he weren't as connected as he and his music, his mother, his first soul mate... feel me?

the beef that is poetry. i mean, really. people are trying to turn this into hip hop. and it's disgusting. because not only are the people beefin' with each other - not as good as the hip hop artists that have spats -- but they very well may be doing it simply for the attention they would never have received (due to the caliber of their poetry) in the first place. "beef is hypothetical" says freddie foxx during an interview 6 years ago. "you wanna know how the fight went, is the real question". and that's what it comes down to. besides - how do you prepare a BATTLE POEM. every other stanza is about the hate, wha? i thought this artform was about something else - i mean. really

that's all for now... i gotta class to teach.

bklyn back in a minute

I'm goin to cry

THIS IS THE WORST.

this just in -- new york, new york -- a 3 year old is sexually assaulted

i'm going to be sick

GEEZ

woke up @ 730am

feenin' for coffee. but im on hold until atleast 11am. i have a class - and then i can sleep. edits are crazy. researching a new assignment for ALLHIPHOP and breathing with my mouth.

my nose hurts

back to the grindstone

bklyn bangahs

MR MOORE SAVE ME

Michael Moore - save me

He's doing a documentary on HMO's. Here is my letter to Mr Moore.

Mr. Moore,

On February 2nd, 2005 I fell on a sheet of black ice that was in front of my building, after the landlord failed to salt the sidewalks. I broke myankle in 3 places and dislocated it. I was afraid to call the ambulance,because I was told that they charge you in New York City. So I called myboyfriend and he came down to get the car and carry me off the emergency room. Once we made it to Interfaith Hospital. I was helped immediately and all was well in the vicidin cured world. Then I began my treatment and it wasn't painful at first. They sent the insurance person to my home to help me sign up for Medicaid with the promise of signing me up to an HMO. Fastforward, 9 months later my insurance has been terminated, then re-instated, all the while, my ankle (which has hardware still in it) has healed, but my toes are not contractured due to the cast being put on improperly. But no one wants to admit it. The doctor that put it on refuses to admit it, he says, "nerve damage" but when i show it to others you can see the actual contracture in my foot. This disables me from wearing shoes and I now have an array of colorful foam slippers. Which sucks even moreso, as I am a performance poet. And walking on stage limping is quite a chore (not including standing up straight for 30 - 45minutes without wincing). I can't get anything on time, because once they start the process they stop almost immediately and say -- oh you have an HMO now? We have to start all over. It's so bad I am to the point where I am looking into paying out of my(lint-stricken) pockets and just going to Hospital of Joint Disease in Manhattan for a second (and third opinion). My rehab has been cut off since Thursday, as my new HMO assigned me a new doctor who will then have to give me a referral to continue the 9 month treatment. The phone number listed on my card for this "NEW" doctor remains unanswered. The phone number to my HMO rings without a human person picking up (damn Americhoice) and my toes are still curled.

part III

Went to the dentist. A huge part of my filling fell off in mid-bite. The dentist says my insurance will only cover me getting it extracted - though another dentist warned me to just have it fixed, as it will impair myeating habits immensely. This dentist agreed it will be hard - but my insurance refuses to cover the root canal and bridgework that needs to bedone. I walk out after they tell me it will cost $1500 (not before Iapplied and was denied for a DENTAL LOAN). A month later, I am touringEurope and the UK. Within a couple of days I am in more pain than I have every felt in my life (this includes the ankle surgery and childbirth).The right side of my face is swollen and tender and aching and pulsing andI don't sleep for 2 days before I make it to an emergency room at theSeven Sisters Tube Station. They treat me half way. Remove the infection from my gums, a partial root canal (it's a student hospital) and a temporary filling until I make it back home to the States.Couple of weeks later, my dentist assistant tells me that they won't seeme because of partial work and I have to go back to whomever helped me initially. That was a month ago, and believe me, the temporary filling isstarting to chip.

Painfully,

MoBrowne

When I Was a Yung'n

When I Was a Yung'n

I globetrotted from one side of the earth -- to New York City.
I partied in the Hamptons @ Puffy's Mansion
I sat across from Timbaland and Aaliyah
I shared a table with Stickey Fingaz
I planned events with D-Nice
I was threatened by Fredro Starr during an interview
I bonded friendships with Free
I spoke of art with Andre 3000
I was propositioned by Luke Campbell's "head ho coordinator"
I offended Bilal
Baby Williams offended me
Juvie introduced me to Magnolia projects
I watched Jay-Z perform along with the Roc-a-fella family
I laughed with Method Man & Redman
I was confused by Raekwon
I ran into Dame Dash
I smelled Cam'Ron's ideas
I was duped by Tyrese
I danced on stage with MC Hammer
I ran into Mos Def and his parents
I mosh'd pit with MOP
I was dissed by Common
I listened intently to Funk Master Flex
I braided Tech's hair
I fell in love with Jill Scott
I laughed loudly with Pharoah Monch

and now, I find the biggest thrill in assembling my ikea shelves and putting my house in order. I've swept 3 times. I have 8 bags of garbage and 2 bags of old clothes to rid of before I even start with my shoes... I have about 60 pairs. But I can see the desk again. And I don't know why it feels so good -- but, at this moment. It really does

bklyn achieving

any given sunday

walls painted -- check

shelves assembled -- check

kitchen cleaned -- check

clothes washed -- check

cd's stacked -- check

art journal -- uncheck

grocery shopping -- uncheck

SATURDAY SWING'N

don't you worry bout a thang

beautiful day. when it wasnt raining. though i couldnt enjoy it fully. when i wasnt sleepy my stomach was cramped up. when i was teaching i was hungry. when i wasnt eating at sylvia's i was stuck in traffic trynna hurry back to snatch amari up...

busy from 10am til 5pm... fell asleep after feeding amari and woke up maybe 3 times... she fell asleep after raven or some disney challenged series and then i awoke. at a start. time to watch the new dvd i cop'd (transporter 2) -- right after love jones goes off.

BK - breath easy

PARENTING 101

NO MORE LAW N ORDER

atleast not for the 8 year old. i thought, being the new millennium parent that i am, if i watched it with her. explained the ish going on -- it would be cool. the same way we are at a poetry event.

scene 1 (poetry slam)
amari: why is he cursing mommy?
mom: he's acting out and wants to get a whooping.
amari: oooh. i knew it. his mom is going to be so disappointed!

scene 2 (driving while listening to keisha cole)
amari: mommy, why did she say i should've cheated?
mom: because he accused her of being a sneak, when he was really the sneak.
amari: but she said cheated.
mom: same thing.
amari: really?
mom: sorta
amari: i don't get it.
mom: turn the channel

scene 3 (watching america's next top model - the limo scene where the model gets told she's pretty then lip attacks or kisses the lesbian)
amari: what is she thinking?
mom: she's just happy that girl said she was pretty. i dont think she understands what she's doing.
amari: she needs to stop actin' out and focus
mom: focus on what?
amari: on her job.

see. these are normal conversations, right? but then this morning she woke with a start. she said "i had a really bad dream. someone was trying to hurt me and i told the cops and we got him in trouble". there goes the law n order marathons... i mean. damn. i can't have the kid waking up with nightmares. but she's such a trooper. i walked her to school and we are talkin about dreams and what makes them important (mom: maybe that's a reminder of how to be brave if someone tries to bother you? amari: i remember. scream kick and run. mom: do you do that in your dream? amari: i tried. but i was scared. mom: its ok to be scared. but you are a smart girl. you can still think while you are scared, right? amari: you think im smart? mom: absolutely.) and we also talk about what they really are.

scene 3 (amari at school)
amari: dont worry mom. i know dreams are not real. but - if they were, what would you do?
mom: i would have to hurt someone really bad. and then JP would get them.
amari: i know huh!? (laughing) now that would be a bad dream for them.

vigilante-ism ain't so bad...

bklyn spinning

NY MINUTE

ALL IN A NEW YORK MINUTE



meetings went incredibly well. stopped by urban word to pick up a package
then my thumb was snatched off by the damn elevator!

that's right - im typing to you with a damn near nub! huff -- ok. well i'm being dramatic. but i mean it. it was that close! had K-Swift not been there to pry the door
off my thumb i would be like the 9 finger character in the movie Snatch. then that would mean the only life left for me would be crime.

and im not such a good liar - so i would have to always get away with it - or kill anyone who might finger me, ahem. yea. so thanks for that irony gods. it was almost funny.

this morning. as i stumbled out of bed to move the car before the street cleaner and their posse gave me yet another ticket (i just paid that damn seat belt ticket like 24 hours ago, seriously, suspended license just won't fly) i decided to hit the coffee shop for a lil coffee and r&r or t&t (as type n type). the new office is beautiful. but i have to figure out a better schedule, as i took on a new teaching assignment for the next 3 months and i don't want to pay for something that i never get any use out of...

like:
my gym membership. yea. CRUNCH this!
my blow dryer: im tenderheaded, dammit...
my rice cooker: i love rice and it was a really good idea at the time.
my roast cooker: again, a good idea and it came with the foreman grill for only 10 bucks MORE!
clothes: that i never wear. most of them went to the katrina victims thouhefty amount of -- promise (is what id like to call it) sitting on my chair, in my daughter's closet & in the new 24 gallon tupperware cannisters that i bought to hide my shame.
paint: for the house. uhh - i was a bit over ambitious with this one. my bad

anyway. so im here. and instead of editing through countless submissions to his rib (www.penmanshipbooks.com) and instead of readying my newest edit of Unlikely and Other Sorts (my new book of short stories) -- i am blogging, surfing and catching up on myspace.

i need a 12 step program... i mean really.

bklyn's shame

in the middle of my thoughtz

too much @ once


gotta catch my breath after the meeting
the other meeting
amari pick-up
and dinner...

b right back