Right now I'm Watching an episode of Johnny Quest entitled:

"Pursuit of the Po-Ho"

indeed.

Drug Harm Ranking System

Interesting story here from Britain about ranking the danger level of recreational drugs.

I feel like an ass.....

I'm tired of having to negotiate the complications of the male ego... interpersonal expectations/male-female dynamics.

I met a lesbisan couple tonight who've been together for over 30 years.

They just seem to fit each other. The were merely together...in whatever the sense of the word was before it took on the euphamism of whatever it now euphamizes. They just seemed to be existing.

I wish I could just exist.

Without the physical urges influenced by the emotional need and the emotional urges controlled by the physical need of the emotion compounded by the desire....

I wish I could be this ideal, compassionate, infinitely sympathetic/empathetic->empathic being,

Who fed only off the fruit of new/additional existences.

The juice of the next individual humanity to come along.

The wine of intimate understanding of a mind.

Not some crazy sci-fi/fantasy-essence vamparism *ish.......

But one who is sustained by the sharing, the exchange.

Then maybe i could walk down the damn street without staring at asses,

and appreciate the bounty of each sentience I come across,

and not risk >>>>ing up the experience by >>>>ing them and then >>>>ing up their self-ness

by >>>>ing someone else.


(how does one shrug in Nederlands?)

Slow, Look, Lean

Earlier this month I determined that I would get my "M" endorsement this year. After perusing TX's flexibility toward out of state license holders and having found alternatives to New York state's high class costs, I will be enrolling in an MSF class in April.


Feel free to start planning my surprise graduation party now.

Retail strategy

You should probably be real careful about opening a boutique

if you made your name designing for the

emperor

who wore no clothes.

Losing one's job

does not absolve one of the eventuality of realizing one's potential.

I'm so racial

from a photo shoot I was "apart" this past september...

I'm at this photo shoot for Wal-Mart. All of the photography/hair/makeup crew is black. The wardrobe designer is tawny...perhaps latina. The manager of the studio is black. The reps from the client are black. All talent is black (not a grand surprise).

The irony? The caterers are white.

Or maybe it isn't.

draft

{continue}

So, now, I have to do this self re-evaluation thing,
well, I don't know if you did, 'cuz I mean the situations aren't completely the same, I acknowledge that, but...

I have to step back, stay away from, take some time to understand because the words I seem to have been gifted with only seem to function when I'm speaking of a situation outside of self -

for the better part of 18 years I was great in self-reflective commentary, but now...

the only time I seem to be able to have the words come out is during/after being with someone who being there with complicates the truth of being with them while I'm saying it.

(rambleramble)

(sigh)

wait...

{wait}

{self-re-evaluation}

I do the same things over again.
I repeat.
I say the same things over again.
I repeat.

(dammit)

{candor}

I felt compelled to go see her, while I was home. I felt like I should offer the chance for her to ask her questions. I felt ready to talk. I felt I wanted to see that she was doing ok, moving on*.

(*a major part of moving on is for her to not see you, dumbass)

and I then I thought about that thing. That thing she let me do. That thing she liked to do.
And I got excited...
And I sighed deeply...
And I concentrated...
And I bared down....
And I exhaled...
Until the thought of that thing went away.

and for a minute that thing made me feel I shouldn't go.

Then I thought I shouldn't let that thing keep us from the wealth of virtuous reasons why we should speak/return/reattempt co-existence.

And I went there.
And it was going well,
And it seemed like it was ok...

And I was preparing to part ways......

And the opportunity arose....
And I did what I always do:

Repeat.

Back. Forth. Back. Forth.

repeat

(exhale 1)

{preamble}

(sigh)

(painpainpain)

(ramblerambleramble)

Shange's skill seems unfathomable until you realize she's just taken the time to mold the thoughts that the rest of us let slip away,

or maybe you're too busy signifying / or scrunching yr face
trying to figure out what to figure out
what the hell she's talking
abt.

(sigh)

{begin}

I understand now...
Why you wouldn't/couldn't call/return my calls...
I understand the feeling of unworthiness
the feeling of having violated something...

somewhat similar in that, technically, there was no promise made,

no "i'm yours-your mine" verbal contract that could be held up in the court of Jerry Springer or girls vs. boys houseparty arguments

but there's still something. that something. like that middle/high school knowing that it's just not right to kiss someone new when/while you've already kissed someone else.

that act.
that decision that takes place in your brain to commit and act with your body that causes an emotional response

} i.e.: circuitry {

letting down of guard, the vulnarability, the openess, the willingness

and the point at which you realize yo shit done scabbed over and you start taking advantage of others who are still virgin to the emotio-sexual zombification that other 85% walk around in...

I'm sorry, that wasn't about you.
but maybe it applies...anyway

yeah.

(blink)

I understand now.
Not wanting to talk to. To see.

No -

Not having the privilege of getting to talk to.
Not having the privilege of getting to see.

Not feeling worthy of the dedication. Moreso now than before.

[open paraphrase]

i only do this with you

[close]

yeah...

it's not quite the same situation,
but still.

I saw the child and she half hid behind a doorway and I like-to-died,
just stopped breathing voluntarily.
the cuteness was unbearable.
she was happy to see.
happy to see...

(sigh)

so,
yeah,

I understand. It's not exactly the same situation....
the stakes not quite as high, I suppose,

I've experienced the sensation of the decision in that moment.

not that I haven't had the moment before, but this time the perspective is different.

but still,
I see it,

I understand the not wanting to say...
I understand the not wanting to hurt...

yeah, all of that.

I hope the three of you are all doing well. Dap little dude for me. Maybe one day tell him I was ready to take him as mine.

Maybe don't tell him. Probably not.

Anyway.

peace

dammit

I have something I need to say and I came home determined to say it but made the mistake of talking to a friend and now I'm blocked.

my fault for not using the pda on the boat.

(shrug)

Lust

I have had a novel's worth of things that I should have said here over the past month or so, yet I choose to take the opportunity to say that I want this.

I've obsessed over this over the past week or two, and I'm very close to making an ill-advised purchase. My problems in this area have been recently covered.

I asked for a bicycle, and took care of that myself. This time it's somebody else's turn.

Although I am determined to take the MSF at some point this year and right it off as training.

Doll Test 2007

Remember hearing about that doll test waaaay back when that main evidence behind the case against segregation in schools during that 15 minutes of Black history you had back in high school? Of course you don't.

Watch this.

It's short.

(edit: link to movie now goes directly to media matters site. thnks, m.)

I wonder if 50 Cent

knows this.

Breath, stretch, and....hate

Given an automotively based example of "hating" that I recently gave:

On an episode of MTV Cribs, the Game lauds one the virtues of his custom Dodge Charger: A/C controls in the glovebox. A smooth panel seemed to replace them in their previous location on the center console.

Now, please, feel free to explain...

What good does it do to have the A/C buttons/knobs in the glovebox while you're in the driver's seat?

(raises eyebrow)

(waits)

(shakes head)

Whatever.

I will recognize that there was a 12 cyl. motor in the car. At least that serves the purpose of go-fast.

I Did VO for

Rockstar Games project today. Yeah THAT Rockstar games.

A couple lines had "n-word" edited out. But the character I was voicing was supposed to be nerdy, so I don't know if it was because of that or the producers thought better. My suggestion of "buppie" was used instead...

(concern)

I know I said something to a hooker; my lines were turning down a proposition. I also delivered some where I was directed that I was talking to a girl in a club. These, of course, could be used as solicitations for a hooker.

I was hoping it was for something out of their usual vein.

...had a couple BS and f-bomb lines.

Can't really say, but I have a not-good feeling about it.

Far from the first mistake this week.

Thus, have I returned.

And with such a burden to bear.

The devil works best when it only needs to sit back and watch.

I want

this.

It's not right how much I want this,
but I'm hoping that admitting how much I want this
will help me get over so very much wanting this.

God don't condone lust (in all it's forms).


(ay, mami....)

Brak

I was just sitting up watching clips at Adult Swim when I came across this, the best Brak episode ever and probably what got me watching AS regularly. I was thinking the shine might have worn off since it's a few years old, but it is still absolute jocular perfection.

And it features a pre-Gnarls Cee-Lo cameo,
and those are always fun.

If I have to explain it, well... Just relax and let it be.

It helps a little to be a hip-hop fan.

You are aware that Nas has declared h-h dead, no?

If so, it has been a long, painful illness and it is better off so.

But we might need to come up with a new name for what the Roots do.

Addenedum: this ep is from '02 or '03 (as in: pre-8 mile) - can deny not it's genius.

Carry on.

Additionalendum: It probably also helps if you've seen the Brak show before...at least enough to appreciate how much better this is than most episodes. Or, well - I mean, um,

just watch it.

(braceurself)

Home...is this conundrum beating me into sub-missionary position that withers my wherewithal an desensitizes my unusual sensitivity,

where I devolve further into the stasis of stagnative placidity

that I journeyed here to reinvigorate myself out of.

Iron-ic that the dwelling of they who forged the Ogun in me seems to be the perfect quench for his sun-hot bellows.

I left that place where I "work", that room I loathe for its muckish drag on spirit,
that small altar to the great, fetid clutter of my mind

and find

the same

here.

And so

I've done

the same

thing I'd

do there:

dormire.

All those to whom I tie my desire to pro-ceed are here, yet, they all seem to aid me in famil(y)ar pacific activity.

Why.

Why save me through 26 hours of persistence to see this.

Why do I not bare the witness of grand, electric, fiery inspiration?

or at least cross the street to speak to the neighbors.

Perhaps I am being introduced to the truth that I have only to be a great man's son -
not need, not will, not choice...

Elegba toils his deeds through me........and now takes his gleeful feast on my plight.

This house haunts, harrows....does not heal as expected.

Trudge all you want from your terror,
the water is as wet and the mud is as heavy here as it is at home.

The Uncle Ruckus gets

shot at by the police ep of Boondocks is on Adult Swim right now. I wonder if this airing has anything to do with 50 shots.