Wednesday, August 29, 2007
slippin'
i have these brown eyes that stare into me. they are beautiful. and still innocent. they are pained. and relative. i know that pain. the uncertainty of caring too much or not enough. the stalker stroll. we all do it: myspace glance. than glance over again. then picture scroll. then sadness. the friends, the phone calls, the emails, the surprise connections. how could you change somebody's life when you're still trying to save your own...? artist depression has been a suprising bath of ice. i've never understood what it meant to be affected. how it felt to be moved to tears upon mention of your father. the man that knows a prison cell better than he'll ever know you. maybe that is why myspace is so easily addictive? there are people i've met thru myspace comments and pics that make me feel just as displaced as a hug to someone, that told someone they hate you. like high school wasn't enough. and its probably just as dysfunctional as you playing the game - because fighting the tides only makes it easier for the real sharks to feed off you. the jellyfish are just a distraction. so you hold it in. call it playing dirty, fair or just playing. three decades of a game that no one ever wins has always tired your breathing. left you unable to recognize yourself, unless you have myspace. this is where you will have remnants of when you were once cute and popular and seemingly without that pain. that sits on your face like a smile.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
because asses have ego's attached and smell just as bad!
yea. so im over it.
had a couple of weeks to reconfigure my artist world. visit family. fall in love again. and when i get back to bklyn, 6 month old beauty smiling a new world into me... i am greeted with the same slam shyt. if i could be over you right now, i swear -- i'd give a kidney.
so lets set the record straight. better yet. let's keep it gutter. if you see me - holla. i promise, i have nothing to hide. nothing in the shadows. my honesty is flawed by the fact that its too honest. but that's it.
ive got life to get to sucka.
speaking of which: SOUNDBiTES Poetry Festival!! www.soundbitesnyc.com the first performance poetry festival in NYC! what? we give money, we give workshops from taalam acey, taylor mali, rives and sooo many more! you wanted it and we brought it to ya! only a couple of slots left for that $500 Slam and $100 Haiku Slam! Confirmed so far... Let's just say they're coming from Columbus, Ohio; Charlotte, North Carolina;
friends: you know who you are. if i haven't reached out or touched back. blame the hatchet in my heart, i was bleeding for you all this time. we will talk this week. i've nothing better to do than drink coffee and find out about your life.
amari. is. home. in. 6 days. and i am still watching making the band. the marathon was necessary. as was the microwave cookie mix. it was splendid. that is all...
had a couple of weeks to reconfigure my artist world. visit family. fall in love again. and when i get back to bklyn, 6 month old beauty smiling a new world into me... i am greeted with the same slam shyt. if i could be over you right now, i swear -- i'd give a kidney.
so lets set the record straight. better yet. let's keep it gutter. if you see me - holla. i promise, i have nothing to hide. nothing in the shadows. my honesty is flawed by the fact that its too honest. but that's it.
ive got life to get to sucka.
speaking of which: SOUNDBiTES Poetry Festival!! www.soundbitesnyc.com the first performance poetry festival in NYC! what? we give money, we give workshops from taalam acey, taylor mali, rives and sooo many more! you wanted it and we brought it to ya! only a couple of slots left for that $500 Slam and $100 Haiku Slam! Confirmed so far... Let's just say they're coming from Columbus, Ohio; Charlotte, North Carolina;
friends: you know who you are. if i haven't reached out or touched back. blame the hatchet in my heart, i was bleeding for you all this time. we will talk this week. i've nothing better to do than drink coffee and find out about your life.
amari. is. home. in. 6 days. and i am still watching making the band. the marathon was necessary. as was the microwave cookie mix. it was splendid. that is all...
Friday, August 17, 2007
when packing goes bad...
i am headed to cali for the week. i am excited and then not.
just found out my uncle passed, and im preparing for a weekend
with my sister for her bridal shower. she is bridezilla. and still the loss of breath, hopeful wedding vows and growing daughter doesnt stop the car brakes from going out. 600 clams that say do it now or rest in heaven too... if i could be more unfunny, i couldnt.
nationals is finally over and most of the city is calm. there are egos waiting
to be stroked - and if i have to be the stroker, they will continue to wait. cause
i aint playing that game again. its too tiring. i am good at what i do. give me
a chance to show u -- or not.
either way, i will find a way to do something else. with just as much impact and even more accolades.
and who waits for the world to clap for them anywayz?
i dont have the patience. cali girl on a eastern time is a bad mix for impatience. and i wear it well. like WHAT?
my team continues to make me proud. i guess i cant call them my kids anymore, huh? they all grown n ish. but they were grown when they got there - in their own way. poetry slam just has a way of mutilating our young - so i try to be the keeper of all things innocent, beautiful and wholly...
i love u gang. ya make me proud upon uttering your name. and no one wanted it like u did.
i miss amari. she calls me everyday and acts as if my randomness is cute. she comforts me when telling me she misses me more than i could ever miss her. and for an instant, i am happy. that i could impact that little girl's life even from afar. she is brilliant. and omniprescent and better than any poem i could ever write.
just found out my uncle passed, and im preparing for a weekend
with my sister for her bridal shower. she is bridezilla. and still the loss of breath, hopeful wedding vows and growing daughter doesnt stop the car brakes from going out. 600 clams that say do it now or rest in heaven too... if i could be more unfunny, i couldnt.
nationals is finally over and most of the city is calm. there are egos waiting
to be stroked - and if i have to be the stroker, they will continue to wait. cause
i aint playing that game again. its too tiring. i am good at what i do. give me
a chance to show u -- or not.
either way, i will find a way to do something else. with just as much impact and even more accolades.
and who waits for the world to clap for them anywayz?
i dont have the patience. cali girl on a eastern time is a bad mix for impatience. and i wear it well. like WHAT?
my team continues to make me proud. i guess i cant call them my kids anymore, huh? they all grown n ish. but they were grown when they got there - in their own way. poetry slam just has a way of mutilating our young - so i try to be the keeper of all things innocent, beautiful and wholly...
i love u gang. ya make me proud upon uttering your name. and no one wanted it like u did.
i miss amari. she calls me everyday and acts as if my randomness is cute. she comforts me when telling me she misses me more than i could ever miss her. and for an instant, i am happy. that i could impact that little girl's life even from afar. she is brilliant. and omniprescent and better than any poem i could ever write.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Soundbites NYC Sept 21 - 23, 2007! NYC
This is what New York City is made of: Dirty Beauty, Sleepless Bodegas & Damn Good Poetry!
Come join Jive Poetic and Mahogany L. Browne for the first annual SOUNDBiTES Poetry Festival, a 3 day event filled with writing workshops, solo artists shows and $500 Poetry Slam! The featured artists confirmed, so far: Taylor Mali, Taalam Acey, Roger Bonair Agard, Rives, Jaha Zainabu, Christa Bell, Jamaal St. John, Big Mike, Buttafly Soul, Michael Cirelli and so much more!
SOUNDBiTES is for everyone! This festival is for the students of life, ready to learn new writing techniques, tips on self-publishing and
those who may just want to witness the hottest performance poets in the country!
This is just the beginning and NYC is the only place that could light up the streets bright enough, for the talents of a Poet!
You can register today by paypal www.soundbitesnyc.com
Brief Itinerary:
Friday, Sept 21, 2007 - Registration
Saturday, Sept 22, 2007 - Workshops, $500 Slam
Sunday, Sept 23, 2007 - Workshops, Community/Poetry Forum, $100 Haiku Deathmatch & SOUNDBiTES Broadway Theatre Production (@ New World Stages 340 WEst 50th & Broadway)
sponsored by: Poets & Writers, PoetCD.com & Urban Word NYC
www.soundbitesnyc.com
Come join Jive Poetic and Mahogany L. Browne for the first annual SOUNDBiTES Poetry Festival, a 3 day event filled with writing workshops, solo artists shows and $500 Poetry Slam! The featured artists confirmed, so far: Taylor Mali, Taalam Acey, Roger Bonair Agard, Rives, Jaha Zainabu, Christa Bell, Jamaal St. John, Big Mike, Buttafly Soul, Michael Cirelli and so much more!
SOUNDBiTES is for everyone! This festival is for the students of life, ready to learn new writing techniques, tips on self-publishing and
those who may just want to witness the hottest performance poets in the country!
This is just the beginning and NYC is the only place that could light up the streets bright enough, for the talents of a Poet!
You can register today by paypal www.soundbitesnyc.com
Brief Itinerary:
Friday, Sept 21, 2007 - Registration
Saturday, Sept 22, 2007 - Workshops, $500 Slam
Sunday, Sept 23, 2007 - Workshops, Community/Poetry Forum, $100 Haiku Deathmatch & SOUNDBiTES Broadway Theatre Production (@ New World Stages 340 WEst 50th & Broadway)
sponsored by: Poets & Writers, PoetCD.com & Urban Word NYC
www.soundbitesnyc.com
Monday, August 06, 2007
the power of silence
when all else fails. listen.
i have tried this and i can not
tell you how incredibly hard it is to do.
not just listen to people talk. but listen
to what they don't say. listen to what they
might want to say. listen to your heart.
this is the hardest.
i have tried this and i can not
tell you how incredibly hard it is to do.
not just listen to people talk. but listen
to what they don't say. listen to what they
might want to say. listen to your heart.
this is the hardest.
Sunday, July 29, 2007
if ever
there was a time i went back to high school. it was friday.
i constantly complain about egos, morals, work ethic and such... that i forgot i am too -- fallable. and need to be reprimanded for my ugliness in the occassion that it rises and spills from my lips. i am acid too. when i want to be. burning holes of ill will into the foreheads, bangs, shoulders, backs and faces of those that have angered me. i am my own god. no one owes me more than me. so i will wait for nothing. not even the apology, 1 year late. or the handshake. or the fake pound. or the forced hug. i am my own god. need to pray-worshop-and adore myself for a change, as no one will do it better than i can. and no one's critique will mean more than mine. so yea. i am sorry. for becoming the one thing i hate most. and wearing it like a fur, as if it were really fashionable.
i constantly complain about egos, morals, work ethic and such... that i forgot i am too -- fallable. and need to be reprimanded for my ugliness in the occassion that it rises and spills from my lips. i am acid too. when i want to be. burning holes of ill will into the foreheads, bangs, shoulders, backs and faces of those that have angered me. i am my own god. no one owes me more than me. so i will wait for nothing. not even the apology, 1 year late. or the handshake. or the fake pound. or the forced hug. i am my own god. need to pray-worshop-and adore myself for a change, as no one will do it better than i can. and no one's critique will mean more than mine. so yea. i am sorry. for becoming the one thing i hate most. and wearing it like a fur, as if it were really fashionable.
Friday, July 27, 2007
my babies...
these are the people that have inspired me, driven me crazy and occupied my last 90 days! send us your prayers for a safe and productive trip to Nationals 2007 in Austin, TX. And if you are around, come check me out!
www.poetryslam.com
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
the shape of his manhood
now that i've gotten your attention...
moving: not even remotely over. i think we've cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom and half of the bedroom. that leaves the other bedroom and the living room in ruins.
my writing project: not so much. i swore july would be my month of creative output. but i just cant fly outta this moving funk.
slam: alot of slam ish taking my head out of the above two projects. talktome slam over by friday, that's a start.
his rib: selling outta books. this is the second shipment. you cant be mad at something so beautiful - even if it took forever to come together.
manhood: i had my 2nd car speed chase, ever. see scene below:
driving down a resendtial street. no more than 25, obviously. the driver behind me becomes impatient. rushes up to the left (where parallel parking resides) and he jumps out of his car yelling:
HIM: Ugly Ass Bitch!
Mo (slowing 25 mph to a crawl): me and ya mama can't both be ugly bitches!
HIM: WHAT? (jumps in car and proceeds to follow Mo)
Mo (two cars ahead): FUCK YOU!!
after driving up two blocks and over the hill, i watch his car pass in the mirror. this is when i remember i am not built to fight 260 pound men. no matter how many poems i write about fighting 260 pound men. i find parking, walk into my new house. filled with moving boxes and humidity. and buckle from the weight of what could have happened.
moving: not even remotely over. i think we've cleaned the kitchen, the bathroom and half of the bedroom. that leaves the other bedroom and the living room in ruins.
my writing project: not so much. i swore july would be my month of creative output. but i just cant fly outta this moving funk.
slam: alot of slam ish taking my head out of the above two projects. talktome slam over by friday, that's a start.
his rib: selling outta books. this is the second shipment. you cant be mad at something so beautiful - even if it took forever to come together.
manhood: i had my 2nd car speed chase, ever. see scene below:
driving down a resendtial street. no more than 25, obviously. the driver behind me becomes impatient. rushes up to the left (where parallel parking resides) and he jumps out of his car yelling:
HIM: Ugly Ass Bitch!
Mo (slowing 25 mph to a crawl): me and ya mama can't both be ugly bitches!
HIM: WHAT? (jumps in car and proceeds to follow Mo)
Mo (two cars ahead): FUCK YOU!!
after driving up two blocks and over the hill, i watch his car pass in the mirror. this is when i remember i am not built to fight 260 pound men. no matter how many poems i write about fighting 260 pound men. i find parking, walk into my new house. filled with moving boxes and humidity. and buckle from the weight of what could have happened.
Monday, July 02, 2007
out with the old
maybe it was your coat,
hanging in the hallway
signaling goodbye like
some cheesy john cusak film
that made my breath catch and
burn, fall, funnel clouds to
the corners hiding beneath the
floorboards
i want them back
before i forget how to inhale with
out your knowing glance assuring
each intake will be as sweet
as when we first met.
if i had
more time, i would've baked cakes
with white icing. lemon sugar drizzled
over edges - sweet and promising
perfect sponge, lulling tastebuds
awakened tongue,
leave me wanting baked cacohphony of spices
i think of our love, packed tightly
with the cake mix.
shifting helplessly under a
mover's direction.
hanging in the hallway
signaling goodbye like
some cheesy john cusak film
that made my breath catch and
burn, fall, funnel clouds to
the corners hiding beneath the
floorboards
i want them back
before i forget how to inhale with
out your knowing glance assuring
each intake will be as sweet
as when we first met.
if i had
more time, i would've baked cakes
with white icing. lemon sugar drizzled
over edges - sweet and promising
perfect sponge, lulling tastebuds
awakened tongue,
leave me wanting baked cacohphony of spices
i think of our love, packed tightly
with the cake mix.
shifting helplessly under a
mover's direction.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
because the beauy is in the booty
my ass is flattening as we speak.
this is the life of a writer. you work to sit more and produce more. which flattens your buttocks if you aren't careful.
recently, i released a women's anthology. it was so beautiful to look at. until i saw the typos. which made it an instant classic & advance reading copy! wait until i become the Alice Walker of this ish... it will be worth millions. lol
but life is like that. with my summer in full bloom, i have so much writing to look forward to. forward - i think i might hate that word now (inside joke). writing and the production of some beautiful things. our off broadway show comes back from hiatus with a big bang, the men's anthology BARBERSHOP CHRONICLES is in the works and HIS RIB Book tour (www.penmanshipbooks.com) is coming together quite nicely. the Nuyo team is preparing for NPS 2007 and we had our first road trip. it reminded me of the pretty things in high school. the spirit rally, skipping lunch and afterschool gatherings at the local fast food joint. they are such a blessing to such a cursed competitive sport.
tonite i will host POETCD.COM's first Artist Showcase. I look to making this a bi-monthly event held in different parts of the country to service our incredible roster of artists, but hey - who knows... one can only hope. this evenings event will feature Taalam, Lemon & Jaha... whose fukn with that? exactly no one!
come thru if you can, if not send your prayers. always in need of them thangs. back to mailing out the HIS RIB copies. we officially sold out of the first run! and we'll have the ill booth with beautiful women, words and books @ the Harlem Book Fair on July 21st! wine and cheese following on July 22nd in Brooklyn. you betta ask somebody.
love like ya mama.
unconditional
m
this is the life of a writer. you work to sit more and produce more. which flattens your buttocks if you aren't careful.
recently, i released a women's anthology. it was so beautiful to look at. until i saw the typos. which made it an instant classic & advance reading copy! wait until i become the Alice Walker of this ish... it will be worth millions. lol
but life is like that. with my summer in full bloom, i have so much writing to look forward to. forward - i think i might hate that word now (inside joke). writing and the production of some beautiful things. our off broadway show comes back from hiatus with a big bang, the men's anthology BARBERSHOP CHRONICLES is in the works and HIS RIB Book tour (www.penmanshipbooks.com) is coming together quite nicely. the Nuyo team is preparing for NPS 2007 and we had our first road trip. it reminded me of the pretty things in high school. the spirit rally, skipping lunch and afterschool gatherings at the local fast food joint. they are such a blessing to such a cursed competitive sport.
tonite i will host POETCD.COM's first Artist Showcase. I look to making this a bi-monthly event held in different parts of the country to service our incredible roster of artists, but hey - who knows... one can only hope. this evenings event will feature Taalam, Lemon & Jaha... whose fukn with that? exactly no one!
come thru if you can, if not send your prayers. always in need of them thangs. back to mailing out the HIS RIB copies. we officially sold out of the first run! and we'll have the ill booth with beautiful women, words and books @ the Harlem Book Fair on July 21st! wine and cheese following on July 22nd in Brooklyn. you betta ask somebody.
love like ya mama.
unconditional
m
Saturday, June 09, 2007
HIS RIB! BUY IT PLEASE!
A collection of poems, stories and essays about the fallible woman, the sensitive girl-child and the fearless warrior, His Rib, offers an inside look at her story. The written works featured in this project includes women from both the literary field and the performance poetry circuit, creating a symbiotic kinship between the two art forms. After combing several continents, the women within these pages were found scribing folk tales in California, sonnets in New York, producing prose in London and breaking stereotypes with each stanza in Colorado, Texas and Canada. The result, a quilt weaved perfectly of compassion, self-respect, discipline, lust and hunger. Enjoy the crack and thunder of His Rib.
Ebele Ajogbe
E. Amato
Cristin Okeefe Aptowicz
Radhiyah Ayobami
Courtenay Aja Barton
Felice Belle
Tara Betts
Tamara Blue
Crystal Senter Brown
Mahogany L. Browne
Akua Doku
Eboni
Ebonyjanice
Jessica Elizabeth
Falu
Andrea Gibson
Nicole Homer
Bassey Ikpi
Crystal Irby
April Jones
Amanda Johnston
Erica Kamara
Rachel Kann
Abena Koomson
Marie Elizabeth Mali
Marty Mcconnell
Derrica Mccullers
Gabriela Garcia Medina
Caitlin Meissner
Aja-Monet
Thea Monyee
Lilian Oben
Lynne Procope
LV
Nicole Sealey
Queen Sheba
Nikki Skies
Suzi Q. Smith
Sydnee Stewart
Heather Taylor
Kimberly Taylor
Imani Tolliver
Kim Trusty
Genevieve Van Cleve
Jeanann Verlee
Megan A. Volpert
Jaha Zainabu
Kelly Zen-Yie Tsai
!!!PRE-ORDER YOUR COPY NOW!!!
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
About Dating Yourself
My friend Tamara posted a statement about this. And i answered:
Id like to think i could...
seriously. I am fly as I wanna be on a Tuesday during a Thunderstorm. But I also know, that can't always be good on the other side. I try my damndest to be supportive and independent - but not too enabling and an island. the balance, i believe - is where the men are separated from the ahem, boys.
and my jealousy - well. that's just it. i got it. and a lot of it. insecure, maybe on a day or two. but i dont believe that's the black and white of things. it takes more, for me to react in a jealous manner. or maybe that's me justifying a bad habit. whatever.
i think, with all my bads, there is a plethora of goods that i can't even name at this point. because check it, im watching the secret and it says dont do that! so yes. i could date myself. even on those days where i just want to be told im pretty for no reason... or when i want to wake up looking in my eyes, for no other reason than i wondered what i was dreaming. i want to dress nicely for myself and compliment myself at the same time... i want to hold my own hand in public and nod with pleasure when people look at me, and wonder "wow - how'd you get her?"
Id like to think i could...
seriously. I am fly as I wanna be on a Tuesday during a Thunderstorm. But I also know, that can't always be good on the other side. I try my damndest to be supportive and independent - but not too enabling and an island. the balance, i believe - is where the men are separated from the ahem, boys.
and my jealousy - well. that's just it. i got it. and a lot of it. insecure, maybe on a day or two. but i dont believe that's the black and white of things. it takes more, for me to react in a jealous manner. or maybe that's me justifying a bad habit. whatever.
i think, with all my bads, there is a plethora of goods that i can't even name at this point. because check it, im watching the secret and it says dont do that! so yes. i could date myself. even on those days where i just want to be told im pretty for no reason... or when i want to wake up looking in my eyes, for no other reason than i wondered what i was dreaming. i want to dress nicely for myself and compliment myself at the same time... i want to hold my own hand in public and nod with pleasure when people look at me, and wonder "wow - how'd you get her?"
Saturday, June 02, 2007
dreaming...
with summer in my rearview, catching up with me quicker than i expected - i suspect, these are the reasons why i can't catch my breath.
took on a couple of more assignments just to assure my summer with nothing
but slam team and 4 hour writing sessions (that's right, i said it 4 consecutive hours), i would like to have an egg stashed for cute shoes, coffee and matinee movie tickets. i wanted to do something nice for the 4th of july, but if all goes well - i will be busy. so i pray that i'll be busy.
i am still working on me, however. miss that i can't answer my myspace or blogspot, hell, i barely answer my email these days. but i feel good. i feel like i can fix the world and all my beautiful friends in it.
but i know that is merely a dream. however, that book: HIS RIB, is not a dream. it'll be out with all my favorite women writers (and some new ones) gracing the pages. and it is not a dream to present a show with some of my favorite performance artists (LEMON. TAALAM. JAHA -- WHAT?!) and it is not a dream that my daughter will leave for her trip to Cali and my cats, newly spayed, will stop trying to mark the entire house of their territory, and my neighbors will stop asking me for 50 cents, 2 dollars or a ride to the far corner of bushwick. well, that last part was a hardcore hail mary, but whatever.
i havent written much, as i can't breath. but i reckon these keys will sing to me again. i can smell the days. June 15th. yea. last day of school. birth of a new book (his rib is out June 8th, but i'll leave it to after our slam field trip to push the hell outta it.)... its on and popping. can you smell it? or is that bbq.
took on a couple of more assignments just to assure my summer with nothing
but slam team and 4 hour writing sessions (that's right, i said it 4 consecutive hours), i would like to have an egg stashed for cute shoes, coffee and matinee movie tickets. i wanted to do something nice for the 4th of july, but if all goes well - i will be busy. so i pray that i'll be busy.
i am still working on me, however. miss that i can't answer my myspace or blogspot, hell, i barely answer my email these days. but i feel good. i feel like i can fix the world and all my beautiful friends in it.
but i know that is merely a dream. however, that book: HIS RIB, is not a dream. it'll be out with all my favorite women writers (and some new ones) gracing the pages. and it is not a dream to present a show with some of my favorite performance artists (LEMON. TAALAM. JAHA -- WHAT?!) and it is not a dream that my daughter will leave for her trip to Cali and my cats, newly spayed, will stop trying to mark the entire house of their territory, and my neighbors will stop asking me for 50 cents, 2 dollars or a ride to the far corner of bushwick. well, that last part was a hardcore hail mary, but whatever.
i havent written much, as i can't breath. but i reckon these keys will sing to me again. i can smell the days. June 15th. yea. last day of school. birth of a new book (his rib is out June 8th, but i'll leave it to after our slam field trip to push the hell outta it.)... its on and popping. can you smell it? or is that bbq.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Conversations w/a 9 year old
this morning:
Amari: Mommy, do I have elf ears?
Mommy: Of course not. Elf ears are pointy and big. Yours are just right.
silence
Mommy: Why are you asking about elf ears? Who said that to you?
silence
Amari: Terrell.
Mommy: Who is that?
Amari: You know the boy in the school picture standing behind me?
Mommy: NO. WHO IS THAT??
Amari: In the school picture, Ma... Behind me...
silence
Mommy: NO. Who is Terrell?
silence
Amari: He's someone that doesn't like himself so he talks about other people so they wont notice he's wack.
Mommy (smiling): You're really good. You know that?
Amari (Shrugging): Yea. I know.
Amari: Mommy, do I have elf ears?
Mommy: Of course not. Elf ears are pointy and big. Yours are just right.
silence
Mommy: Why are you asking about elf ears? Who said that to you?
silence
Amari: Terrell.
Mommy: Who is that?
Amari: You know the boy in the school picture standing behind me?
Mommy: NO. WHO IS THAT??
Amari: In the school picture, Ma... Behind me...
silence
Mommy: NO. Who is Terrell?
silence
Amari: He's someone that doesn't like himself so he talks about other people so they wont notice he's wack.
Mommy (smiling): You're really good. You know that?
Amari (Shrugging): Yea. I know.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
my list of nothingness...
Inspired by the bass…
1. I watch a lot of movies.
2. They rarely have much to do with my life. Maybe that’s why I watch them?
3. I hope this diet is working. Cause me going to the gym on a regular basis, isn’t.
4. why does myspace have me so hooked?
5. I can tell when you haven’t responded to my message. And that bothers me.
6. Is that too high school or am I having a complete breakdown?
7. I love my hair. I didn’t like it when I had the vigiro touch up and the bossy cut –
8. But now. I think it looks quite fetching (I can say it in a sentence FA, ca you?)
9. I remember the feeling of falling in love, it felt like summertime @ age 13.
10. Amari is getting too tall. I don’t know what I think about her hips either.
11. Amari has been commissioned to sing back up for a Buddy Wakefield concert. Courtesy of RAC being a lovebug of a chick-a-dee…
12. Is chick-a-dee even appropriate anymore?
13. Is chick-a-dee like Chick-fil-a
14. I miss Cali, they have Chick-fil-a
15. This is so much more fun than just writing a blog. Lists make it seem like you are thinking a lot!
16. It hides that fact that I’m so random, I guess…
17. I mean does it?
18. Sandbloom. That’s all.
19. Tamara letting me stay with her while I’m in Cali is so bomb. I mean. I have family. But if I’m working, then I really shouldn’t stay with family, cause they are crazy and will have me missing shows again – and then what will I have to say for myself.
20. Sorry Shihan. I remember missing that show, that was pretty wack of me. So wack that if someone misses a show, like I did to you, then I try to listen to them.
21. I don’t know if that’s working, though.
22. Bassey should be back in Brooklyn.
23. No seriously.
24. The movie junebug, some indie flick, is incredibly slow.
25. It reminds me that I am not ever going to be Julia Roberts or any of those cute white girls that gets courted in movies.
26. I mean, I don’t want to be white. I just want to be the lead role in the freek’n movie.
27. Halle was a getting busy with Billy Bob in the movie and she got with the lead role.
28. But they had to kill her son and call her all type of n-words.
29. I don’t think I want the lead role anymore.
30. Maybe just a supporting role, like Regina King in Jerry Maguire.
31. GOD! I love Jerry Maguire.
32. Just counted my books. I have over 600.
33. Well I didn’t really count. I just looked at the massive bookcase for a long time.
34. I may go to hell for lying to my mother, but seriously. She’s tripping.
35. Then what mother doesn’t trip? Right?
36. I just want my mother to have that grandmother scent about her.
37. Ya know. Cookies and collard grens. Warm house and hugs. Is that too much to ask for?
38. I’m going to go wash clothes with my favorite laundry woman, Ms. Della.
39. She reduces my homesickness. But I think I’ve run out of clothes to wash.
40. Maybe I can wash some extra towels or something…
41. I promised myself that I would only type a list of 50…
42. Even that at the moment seems too little.
43. I’m still searching for a place to move to. I’m going to send a mass email out to friends and listserves, then check craigslist again.
44. I love craigslist.
45. I’m thinking maybe Queens.
46. Besides, I found the Yugoslavian that sold me my love, the minvan, for only a G.
47. A house can’t be that hard.
48. But then I’ve been looking for over 3 years for a house and no luck.
49. Maybe since I’ve been watching the secret and thinking happy thoughts and shyt, it’ll work this time?
50. Might it not work cause I said “Shyt”?
51. Shyt!
52. I did it again.
53. And I’m willing to settle for a 2 bedroom as long as there ain’t no drug dealers on the actual corner.
54. I have to check with Christa and see if saying curse words reverses the positive reinforcement.
55. People can curse when they’re happy, right?
56. Look at sailors!
57. I’m currently reading this ChickLit that Bassey prescribed. It’s not as good as my girl Sophie Kinsella, and her Shopaholic series.
58. People are falling in love and hating each other from the first scene @ the stupid airport!
59. Don’t they know that goes against the SECRET!
60. So why are they allowed to “hate” and still get the happy ending?
61. Oh yea. It’s a fictional story. Don’t remind me.
62. Why are sailors known for cursing anyway?
63. Ok. I did mess up on my diet once. I had a donut for the first time in WEEKS yesterday.
64. And I seldom have coffee anymore.
65. Which is extremely hard, considering for my birthday, I received STARBUCKS GIFT CARDS.
66. In the movie Junebug, the pregnant chick is masturbating. This is disturbing.
67. Not that pregnant woman don’t deserve to get off. I’m just saying.
68. Oh god!
69. I love pregnant woman. They are more beautiful than the leading lady in all the movies: Pretty Woman, Jerry Maguire, Poetic Justice…
70. Seriously, Poetic Justice was great filmmaking!
71. I like the Shopgirl with Claire Danes and Steve Martin.
72. When she asked him “Why can’t you love me?”
73. Story of my freek’n life!
74. Oh god! I did it again, didn’t I?
75. I seriously need to check out the Secret again. The rules are totally confining to my personality of maladjusted normalcy.
76. Still watching Junebug. Just a note: Quiet SEX is AWESOME!
77. I’ve had my share, if you know what I’m saying…
78. Obviously, you know what I’m saying I just said it!
79. I hate when people say that. “Nahmean, Know what I’m saying”
80. I swear, people are going to unsubscribe to my blog because of this.
81. Dammit there goes that negative reinforcement again!
82. Holy crap, I’m way over my 50, aren’t I?
83. And cats that haven’t been spayed suck in the spring!
84. Is that cat spew, I smell?
85. I tried to read million little pieces, but it’s too depressing.
86. Just like that damn book FAT GIRL that Christa boasted about.
87. That was a bunch of crap.
88. Maybe if I wasn’t feeling fat when I read it – I would be enlightened.
89. Maybe.
90. I got new rugs I want to put out, but my stupid cats and that spewing ain’t gonna cut it!
91. I think I want a dog when we move. Like a bulldog.
92. Something ugly and short.
93. Ugly dogs are totally cute.
94. He says only when they’re puppies.
95. Like kids, I guess.
96. Except, kids aren’t ever puppies. Are they?
97. I have to find some incense. Mopping incessantly is killing my back.
98. Then that could be my ankle issue and all the limping I’ve been doing.
99. I really like words like “incessantly” or dilapidated.
100. But that’s an entirely different list to start, now isn’t it…
101. Wow. I guess. This is just proof that I need to write another list.
102. Maybe tomorrow?
1. I watch a lot of movies.
2. They rarely have much to do with my life. Maybe that’s why I watch them?
3. I hope this diet is working. Cause me going to the gym on a regular basis, isn’t.
4. why does myspace have me so hooked?
5. I can tell when you haven’t responded to my message. And that bothers me.
6. Is that too high school or am I having a complete breakdown?
7. I love my hair. I didn’t like it when I had the vigiro touch up and the bossy cut –
8. But now. I think it looks quite fetching (I can say it in a sentence FA, ca you?)
9. I remember the feeling of falling in love, it felt like summertime @ age 13.
10. Amari is getting too tall. I don’t know what I think about her hips either.
11. Amari has been commissioned to sing back up for a Buddy Wakefield concert. Courtesy of RAC being a lovebug of a chick-a-dee…
12. Is chick-a-dee even appropriate anymore?
13. Is chick-a-dee like Chick-fil-a
14. I miss Cali, they have Chick-fil-a
15. This is so much more fun than just writing a blog. Lists make it seem like you are thinking a lot!
16. It hides that fact that I’m so random, I guess…
17. I mean does it?
18. Sandbloom. That’s all.
19. Tamara letting me stay with her while I’m in Cali is so bomb. I mean. I have family. But if I’m working, then I really shouldn’t stay with family, cause they are crazy and will have me missing shows again – and then what will I have to say for myself.
20. Sorry Shihan. I remember missing that show, that was pretty wack of me. So wack that if someone misses a show, like I did to you, then I try to listen to them.
21. I don’t know if that’s working, though.
22. Bassey should be back in Brooklyn.
23. No seriously.
24. The movie junebug, some indie flick, is incredibly slow.
25. It reminds me that I am not ever going to be Julia Roberts or any of those cute white girls that gets courted in movies.
26. I mean, I don’t want to be white. I just want to be the lead role in the freek’n movie.
27. Halle was a getting busy with Billy Bob in the movie and she got with the lead role.
28. But they had to kill her son and call her all type of n-words.
29. I don’t think I want the lead role anymore.
30. Maybe just a supporting role, like Regina King in Jerry Maguire.
31. GOD! I love Jerry Maguire.
32. Just counted my books. I have over 600.
33. Well I didn’t really count. I just looked at the massive bookcase for a long time.
34. I may go to hell for lying to my mother, but seriously. She’s tripping.
35. Then what mother doesn’t trip? Right?
36. I just want my mother to have that grandmother scent about her.
37. Ya know. Cookies and collard grens. Warm house and hugs. Is that too much to ask for?
38. I’m going to go wash clothes with my favorite laundry woman, Ms. Della.
39. She reduces my homesickness. But I think I’ve run out of clothes to wash.
40. Maybe I can wash some extra towels or something…
41. I promised myself that I would only type a list of 50…
42. Even that at the moment seems too little.
43. I’m still searching for a place to move to. I’m going to send a mass email out to friends and listserves, then check craigslist again.
44. I love craigslist.
45. I’m thinking maybe Queens.
46. Besides, I found the Yugoslavian that sold me my love, the minvan, for only a G.
47. A house can’t be that hard.
48. But then I’ve been looking for over 3 years for a house and no luck.
49. Maybe since I’ve been watching the secret and thinking happy thoughts and shyt, it’ll work this time?
50. Might it not work cause I said “Shyt”?
51. Shyt!
52. I did it again.
53. And I’m willing to settle for a 2 bedroom as long as there ain’t no drug dealers on the actual corner.
54. I have to check with Christa and see if saying curse words reverses the positive reinforcement.
55. People can curse when they’re happy, right?
56. Look at sailors!
57. I’m currently reading this ChickLit that Bassey prescribed. It’s not as good as my girl Sophie Kinsella, and her Shopaholic series.
58. People are falling in love and hating each other from the first scene @ the stupid airport!
59. Don’t they know that goes against the SECRET!
60. So why are they allowed to “hate” and still get the happy ending?
61. Oh yea. It’s a fictional story. Don’t remind me.
62. Why are sailors known for cursing anyway?
63. Ok. I did mess up on my diet once. I had a donut for the first time in WEEKS yesterday.
64. And I seldom have coffee anymore.
65. Which is extremely hard, considering for my birthday, I received STARBUCKS GIFT CARDS.
66. In the movie Junebug, the pregnant chick is masturbating. This is disturbing.
67. Not that pregnant woman don’t deserve to get off. I’m just saying.
68. Oh god!
69. I love pregnant woman. They are more beautiful than the leading lady in all the movies: Pretty Woman, Jerry Maguire, Poetic Justice…
70. Seriously, Poetic Justice was great filmmaking!
71. I like the Shopgirl with Claire Danes and Steve Martin.
72. When she asked him “Why can’t you love me?”
73. Story of my freek’n life!
74. Oh god! I did it again, didn’t I?
75. I seriously need to check out the Secret again. The rules are totally confining to my personality of maladjusted normalcy.
76. Still watching Junebug. Just a note: Quiet SEX is AWESOME!
77. I’ve had my share, if you know what I’m saying…
78. Obviously, you know what I’m saying I just said it!
79. I hate when people say that. “Nahmean, Know what I’m saying”
80. I swear, people are going to unsubscribe to my blog because of this.
81. Dammit there goes that negative reinforcement again!
82. Holy crap, I’m way over my 50, aren’t I?
83. And cats that haven’t been spayed suck in the spring!
84. Is that cat spew, I smell?
85. I tried to read million little pieces, but it’s too depressing.
86. Just like that damn book FAT GIRL that Christa boasted about.
87. That was a bunch of crap.
88. Maybe if I wasn’t feeling fat when I read it – I would be enlightened.
89. Maybe.
90. I got new rugs I want to put out, but my stupid cats and that spewing ain’t gonna cut it!
91. I think I want a dog when we move. Like a bulldog.
92. Something ugly and short.
93. Ugly dogs are totally cute.
94. He says only when they’re puppies.
95. Like kids, I guess.
96. Except, kids aren’t ever puppies. Are they?
97. I have to find some incense. Mopping incessantly is killing my back.
98. Then that could be my ankle issue and all the limping I’ve been doing.
99. I really like words like “incessantly” or dilapidated.
100. But that’s an entirely different list to start, now isn’t it…
101. Wow. I guess. This is just proof that I need to write another list.
102. Maybe tomorrow?
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
about falling...
the trick is not in how un-awkward you can topple your body to the ground without looking like an ass. the problem is you already look kinda silly falling - arms out grabbing for support that isn't there - eyes bulging and that big "O" with your mouth, probably accompanied by a yelp of some sort... eveeryone does this when falling. (unless of course you went out drinking with me and watched my drunk ass fall down a flight of stairs sliently... true story)... the art, is picking yourself up as gracefully as possible. fixing your face to a purposeful "it happens to everyone" pose and being flyy as fuk when walking away with a saunter that says "yea, i tripped, so what? you too caught up in the act of my falling when i'm so fresh i'm already over it...and moving up the block".
Saturday, May 05, 2007
preferences: a quiz
smurf or pacman (the dance): smurf is the shyt. chicken noodle soup ain't got NUFFIN on the smurf!
breasts or thighs: breasts. breasts are always on top!
dry humping or finger exploration: do i look like an 8th grader to you?
MOP mosh pit or Drum n Bass boogie-a-thon: why can't there be both?
holding hands in public or kissing in public: holding hands. and kissing behind doorways, of course!
myspace top 8 or cellphone top 8: myspace, obviously!
boondocks or aquateenhunger force: ATF muthaF'ERS!... i know, i know: i should love the cartoon by blacks attempting to correct the state of our current blackness by calling out to everyone as N****A... however. we arent the only ones watching it. and most of those people didnt get the memo: "this is a satire. insert laugh here." they are just chuckling because black people cartoons calling the rest of the world the n word is like, freek'n awesome!
katt williams or mike epps: katt williams. minus the N word usage to the fullest degree, he is one funny muthasucka!
napoleon dynamite or...: WhATevER! there is no or when it comes to mr dynamite!
oprah or ellen: i mean really. oprah - i love u porgy. but ellen dances! and she's funny. i'll just keep buying that stupid oprah book that you are on the covere of, every month. i love u oprah. i swear i do - but if you ain't throwing hip hop under the bus, you are boring as hell!
man's hands or feet: both. i like nice feet. and i love clean (not manicured) hands.
first date kiss or fourth date sex: definitely 1st date kiss. sex has no time limit. but its real doubtful. especially in the land of new york city!
will smith & jada pinkett smith or courtney vance & angela bassett: why not both? i like flyy black love. it makes me believe in shyt.
religion or spirtuality: spirtituality. my god and me get a long great. its your judgements that be fuk'n up the translation!
mind f*ck or titty f*ck: well i'm a writer. so i guess i'm full of mind f*ckin' now aren't i?
tag: all of u'z! dammit.
breasts or thighs: breasts. breasts are always on top!
dry humping or finger exploration: do i look like an 8th grader to you?
MOP mosh pit or Drum n Bass boogie-a-thon: why can't there be both?
holding hands in public or kissing in public: holding hands. and kissing behind doorways, of course!
myspace top 8 or cellphone top 8: myspace, obviously!
boondocks or aquateenhunger force: ATF muthaF'ERS!... i know, i know: i should love the cartoon by blacks attempting to correct the state of our current blackness by calling out to everyone as N****A... however. we arent the only ones watching it. and most of those people didnt get the memo: "this is a satire. insert laugh here." they are just chuckling because black people cartoons calling the rest of the world the n word is like, freek'n awesome!
katt williams or mike epps: katt williams. minus the N word usage to the fullest degree, he is one funny muthasucka!
napoleon dynamite or...: WhATevER! there is no or when it comes to mr dynamite!
oprah or ellen: i mean really. oprah - i love u porgy. but ellen dances! and she's funny. i'll just keep buying that stupid oprah book that you are on the covere of, every month. i love u oprah. i swear i do - but if you ain't throwing hip hop under the bus, you are boring as hell!
man's hands or feet: both. i like nice feet. and i love clean (not manicured) hands.
first date kiss or fourth date sex: definitely 1st date kiss. sex has no time limit. but its real doubtful. especially in the land of new york city!
will smith & jada pinkett smith or courtney vance & angela bassett: why not both? i like flyy black love. it makes me believe in shyt.
religion or spirtuality: spirtituality. my god and me get a long great. its your judgements that be fuk'n up the translation!
mind f*ck or titty f*ck: well i'm a writer. so i guess i'm full of mind f*ckin' now aren't i?
tag: all of u'z! dammit.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
pied piper
If you are reading this
It is late
You are tired
Your bones hurt with the irony of knowing
He is not coming to bed
Not coming home
Not sleeping in your embrace,
Again.
Face the music when the sun rises
Falter your footsteps to the kitchen, the bathroom – the front door
But look back and compromise – once more
Say this is the last time
The last time you’ll love someone so much you forget that you ever wanted something tangible:
a note, a hug, a kiss, a tug at your braids, a pull for your hips
something that says you aren’t crazy for feeling this
dementia,
that shreds your nervous system into confetti
Dye your insides fuchsia and forget the blues ever existed
You never liked them anyway
Not even when you showered together
Or when you read the paper – line by line as if his words and your tongue were born like this
And you know now, the silence
Was just the beginning
It was the prelude to all that jazz
And blackened burned molasses turned harsh syrupy sinister
slight the warm-blooded and
Reflect the lives of dead men walking/writers
You fell in love with a poet and blame your mother for not telling you
There will always be another stage brighter than the one in your bedroom
Than the one that connected your eyes to each other
Across the room…that night
You will always believe in him
More than the words he’s stitched to papers himself
SOS’d his soul in between the lines
But, this is not your cue
You will never save him
The phone calls from across the country
Are lifelines sucking away your lifeforce
He loves you enough to not kill you - physically
But, mentally…
He’s already sharpened the sword.
Samurai swung at your skull
And watched your eyes spiral in the wind
I wish this were a metaphor
It’s nothing but plain old English truth;
He was never your God,
Who promised to save your soul, after the altering of your alter
I wish this were a metaphor
But it is nothing but plain paper bag and shoeless truth;
He is of no cloth that will bring pride to African warriors or Kings
He is too beautiful and brilliant and cunning for you to notice
The malicious tongue
That darts between his lips while singing you the same song
He sang for her in Japan, London, Los Angeles, Texas and New York
The words may change,
But the melody is as clear as the flutist stealing
Children from their home:
Empty beds taunting the graves with bare coffins
Lucky you…
To earn the movement of free will and still shuffle your feet from an awakening
So pure
Tell me how much it hurts to hear these words
Find a mirror and trail the reflection of a woman
Once upon a time -- she looked just like you.
Except, she was special
It is late
You are tired
Your bones hurt with the irony of knowing
He is not coming to bed
Not coming home
Not sleeping in your embrace,
Again.
Face the music when the sun rises
Falter your footsteps to the kitchen, the bathroom – the front door
But look back and compromise – once more
Say this is the last time
The last time you’ll love someone so much you forget that you ever wanted something tangible:
a note, a hug, a kiss, a tug at your braids, a pull for your hips
something that says you aren’t crazy for feeling this
dementia,
that shreds your nervous system into confetti
Dye your insides fuchsia and forget the blues ever existed
You never liked them anyway
Not even when you showered together
Or when you read the paper – line by line as if his words and your tongue were born like this
And you know now, the silence
Was just the beginning
It was the prelude to all that jazz
And blackened burned molasses turned harsh syrupy sinister
slight the warm-blooded and
Reflect the lives of dead men walking/writers
You fell in love with a poet and blame your mother for not telling you
There will always be another stage brighter than the one in your bedroom
Than the one that connected your eyes to each other
Across the room…that night
You will always believe in him
More than the words he’s stitched to papers himself
SOS’d his soul in between the lines
But, this is not your cue
You will never save him
The phone calls from across the country
Are lifelines sucking away your lifeforce
He loves you enough to not kill you - physically
But, mentally…
He’s already sharpened the sword.
Samurai swung at your skull
And watched your eyes spiral in the wind
I wish this were a metaphor
It’s nothing but plain old English truth;
He was never your God,
Who promised to save your soul, after the altering of your alter
I wish this were a metaphor
But it is nothing but plain paper bag and shoeless truth;
He is of no cloth that will bring pride to African warriors or Kings
He is too beautiful and brilliant and cunning for you to notice
The malicious tongue
That darts between his lips while singing you the same song
He sang for her in Japan, London, Los Angeles, Texas and New York
The words may change,
But the melody is as clear as the flutist stealing
Children from their home:
Empty beds taunting the graves with bare coffins
Lucky you…
To earn the movement of free will and still shuffle your feet from an awakening
So pure
Tell me how much it hurts to hear these words
Find a mirror and trail the reflection of a woman
Once upon a time -- she looked just like you.
Except, she was special
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
daddy...daddy. daddy. hi daddy!!
you gotta love kids.
im sitting here, ohio waiting for my host to be done on the computer.
there is a baby yelling "hi daddy. hi daddy, daddy!? daddy!? daddY!"
saw scott woods, psi president, when i came to the library. as usual, he's too cool for school.
dropped my daughter off @ early this morning. but not before she ran back upstairs because she forgot her homework. then back down cause she remembered she did INDEED have her homework. but after she left her homework book the car seat - YES! this is my life on any given day. when i have to make it to Laguardia Airport in less than 30 minutes to assure my delayed plane, won't leave me. and YES. this all happens after my cd duplicator, JAMAL, tells me to come pick up my cd's - and when i get there, he confesses he didnt have the master copy and can i bring it back. that's a NO jamal... fa realz. but i get here. and i slept on the lil' jet, like i wasn't scrunching up all these thighs into a seat that probably fit my smaller than myself (in 8th grade).
i wrote my thank you letter last nite. my gratitude list. and feel happy. i ate steak and cheddar cheese eggs in Ohio, 'cause i could. how many people can do that? i am blessed. just like the baby screaming for her father in the middle of the deadliest of silent libraries. tucked in her carseat. prideful over the joy of knowing her daddy's face.
im sitting here, ohio waiting for my host to be done on the computer.
there is a baby yelling "hi daddy. hi daddy, daddy!? daddy!? daddY!"
saw scott woods, psi president, when i came to the library. as usual, he's too cool for school.
dropped my daughter off @ early this morning. but not before she ran back upstairs because she forgot her homework. then back down cause she remembered she did INDEED have her homework. but after she left her homework book the car seat - YES! this is my life on any given day. when i have to make it to Laguardia Airport in less than 30 minutes to assure my delayed plane, won't leave me. and YES. this all happens after my cd duplicator, JAMAL, tells me to come pick up my cd's - and when i get there, he confesses he didnt have the master copy and can i bring it back. that's a NO jamal... fa realz. but i get here. and i slept on the lil' jet, like i wasn't scrunching up all these thighs into a seat that probably fit my smaller than myself (in 8th grade).
i wrote my thank you letter last nite. my gratitude list. and feel happy. i ate steak and cheddar cheese eggs in Ohio, 'cause i could. how many people can do that? i am blessed. just like the baby screaming for her father in the middle of the deadliest of silent libraries. tucked in her carseat. prideful over the joy of knowing her daddy's face.
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