Dreams 12/26/09

This morning I dreamed that I did a motorcycle practice track day on an indoor track that seemed to have at least moments of resemblance to my childhood home.

Which, I suppose, is at least partly related to this.

MOntel?

I few days ago I had a dream I was being interviewed with something for M. Williams.

Today I had a dream that I was in Louisiana and got a call from him for an interview or something, that required me to be in NY the next day.

Think I'm not having issues regarding leaving?


(sigh)

I think I finally figured out

that,

in order to be the actor I want to be,

I need to get away from here.

There was a time I felt lazy at home.

Now I feel lazy here.

(and I don't want them to get me for those tickets I keep refusing to pay)

So. Yeah.

I watched Still Bill.

So, I think I'm gonna go ahead and go home.

Rent's cheaper there, anyway.

While shooting last night

in Union Square,
a family walked between me and me subject.
The father ( presume ) says, "nice eye".

(or "good eye")

Then, in the process of talking my ear off,
Josiah asks me,
"how old are you, 40?"

nyc.

The City

sigh....

I think I'm ready to leave here. I desire to have my own space again, and I miss my people. I miss the freedom to move about without having to partake of public transportation or yield up offerings to ye olde god Toll. Once when I went home, I missed having it. Now I relish just about every moment I'm not using the train.

Or that could just be because I very much believe in the bike.

As it stands, I don't feel there's anything in particular for me to do here. Acting, at this moment, is not a powerful enough draw for me to be here...and that has been the case for the better part of this year. I've done a reading since I came back, and it was fine, but it's nothing I don't feel like I can't live without.

At home, I feel like there's an outlet for theater..even if I'm not the one on stage.

But....

there are the lingering reasons to be here: certain people I've met that I'll miss.

and I guess that's why people stay here.

If they're here, though....and I'm able to return occasionally.....doesn't that work? That's what I do now, but it's my family on the occasional end.

I don't think there's room any longer for that to happen.

When I was home, my father -

for the first time -

looked like my grandfather; his father...

The way I remember him looking, that gaunt face.

What happens if I blink and he's gone? Then, he's gone.


Today, I went to an audition. And it was cool.

Then I went to Madison Square Park and played paparazzo with the squirrels.

Then I met my Nederlander/Surinami/Cape Verdian friend who choreographs and moves beautifully and talked with her about how this place feels so foreign...even though I remember 2 years ago when she wanted so badly to be back here.

When I was at home, she and I communicated, and one of my reasons for coming back was to not miss her. 'Cuz folk who speak Dutch ain't exactly common where I'm from.

Then I went and leaned against the curb in the pedestrian mall next to the Flatiron Bldg. and took pictures.

You can't do that anywhere else, right?

But you can do that anywhere...right?

Then I stopped and got a falafel shawerma. At the boat, somebody gave me a card for the SI Critical Mass...and we started talking about how he knows people who have places to stay...

And the ride & walk back to the apt seemed easier than usual.

So, today made me go into my questioning mode. But I guess the good days are like that.

But, if you're gonna leave...don't you want to do so smiling?

So...I think NYC's got me for a few more months. Maybe.

(shrug)

Inventory

I believe in:

the bike

the drum

the voice

the combustion (electricity + fuel = fire)

the truth

Alexander Toulouse, 8 yrs

Beanfield - Planetary Deadlock

@ last.fm

I walked away

from my first promo job yesterday,

largely due to an interaction with NY's "finest".

I have a history of displeasure for authority figures,

but it feels like some special ire for these in particular.

Perhaps it's just my general view regarding the way people deal with each other here.

Regardless....I despise the powerlessness I feel around them....how attempting to counter anything they say immediately causes me to draw back for fear of reprimand...

which is not their job.

Yet we all...most of us...seem to do it instinctually. Slowing down even though you're already doing the speed limit. Stopping for yellow lights. Purposely not looking "them" in the eye.

Pavlov is, apparently, a mutha.

So,

I walked off my first job. And now I feel stupid about it. Instead of swallowing the anger for a few more minutes I, more or less, asked to be replaced - and now I'm out of a few hundred dollars (unless company gets desperate and calls back).

Doing the promotions was supposed to be a way of dealing with the indignity of working in offices.

I think I may just have lost patience for being someone's underling.

(shrug)

I'm gonna go bang a drum, or something.

He

answered the phone and small-talked, what amounts to small talk for us anyway, for a few minutes.

The whole time I'm waiting for him to drop for it...

"Well, yeah, I was just thinking about coming up there and seeing what's going on..."

But nothing.

I assumed he was bored and just not playing as much golf...

He "had an episode" yesterday. "Heart".



(sigh)

Well...

I guess now I know why the Monster's been here with decreasing regularity over the past two years.

I actually sort of miss the monster.

Stranger still...

my father, who I've not been on great terms with, just called to wish me a happy bd and ask about the housing market in NYC.


Once......MAYBE once has he ever called me on my birthday.


Bored at work I suppose.

Today I got a djembe.

I wanted one pretty strongly in college, thought about it since then, acted on it today. I didn't go to work with the intent to do so, but the opportunity was there, and I took it.

Yes it is a Sunday, yes I was working, yes it is the day I start another circuit around the sun.

There was bit of remorse on the way home, I thought I may put out too much, felt that I got gamed a little by savvy merchant.

However...

It was strange how people kept complimenting me and the djembe. Particularly since they could see them in the same place I did, in two different places along 3rd Ave this day.

At some point I noticed the way I carried her*, on the shoulder with fingers locked around the concave middle that rested on my shoulder, close in, with the carved wood of the base against my face.

(* I think she's a she)

I ran with her for a boat that was leaving without us. We sat in the ferry terminal. I took not much notice of her as I considered changing one of the tie-died that I bought. I got into a conversation with the neph and had to remind myself several times to keep an eye on her. As we got ready to load, I attempted to hoist her onto my shoulder via her handle, or hold via the handle. Awkward.

After sitting her down to wait for the ferry bridge (moving dock arm we use to board) to clear, I picked her up in the way that seemed most comfortable: base forward, close to cheek, finger locked over middle.

I sat on the boat and put her down in front of me. I finished reading the last chapter of Ghandibhai's truth that I started on the train. I looked at her. I placed her between my legs and my hands on her head. We began to talk a bit.

I thought about how I held her.

I thought about why I got (have?) her.

We talked some more, and I was somewhat surprised that the level of communication, though still rudimentary.

We waited until the boat was completely docked and gates open before we got up to leave.

I put her on my shoulder, my fingers locked around her waist.

At first, this just happened. Then it became deliberate. Now it was ease.

I walked with her comfortably on my shoulder, set her carefully in the passenger seat...then set her more carefully in the seat.

While walking, I noticed somebody looking at (us).

While on that boat I began thinking, on the way home I continued...about how, recently, I've realized my need to explore....explore in doing. I've been wrestling about getting a motorcycle. At some point, I stopped wrestling. I need to do. I need to explore. I need to stretch.

There was a time when this was done through acting. I've taken non-deliberate, then deliberate steps away from that.

I've noticed and realized a need for exploration outside the realm of research. I need to touch, feel. The desire to do is coming more from the need to experience. On the boat with my fingers testing the sounds, running over the surface of the skin, noticing the hairs left, the small unravelling of the fibers of the cloth around the head, I looked forward toward drilling myself in the comprehension of her language,

and any remorse left. It feels right.

On this day, I've realized that...

I'm changing. In my reading. In realization. Something different seems like it's happening. I suppose, in it's a way, it's a fitting day for it to happen.

I think, maybe, I've finally grown up.

It feels a little like bringing home a first child, doesn't it?

(breath)

She's in the other room. I'm letting her get used to the place. The first night in a new place can be sort of traumatic.




We'll talk tomorrow.

I hate facebook.

(sigh)

It amazes me....

there are times when I can't stand him.

there are times I sympathize with him.

there are times I feel sorry for him.

Yesterday

I found out I taught somebody to sing.

C

uh..what?

I love that my nephew comes to me with his defacatory dilemmas.

In other news, I've been endorsed.

Whether more instructor's really think I deserved it or not.

edit: I do not, however, love hearing about his Tetris block poo.

Fat/Bike

humoroso

Church 8/16/09

Sermon: Can You Still Ride While You Fast?

Scripture: 27.83 miles of north Louisiana hill country backroads.

Key verse: (the last few Hundred feet of Rockshop Rd before HWY 167)









{amen}

Earrrrrzzzzzzz

From watching the sky at night at home...

...from the backyard that will forever be the one I grew up in:

it's amazing how distinct the Little Dipper is*.

everytime I come home, I'm taken aback a bit how long it's been since the last time I saw Orion.

how cool it would be to be able to look up at the Moon and think, "there are people living up there,".

I want my life, whatever it was supposed to be, back. I wish I knew where to get it from. I blinked. I've spent my life blinking. I've missed it. I want it back.

yet, as bad as I want it, I'm still afraid to say out loud give it back. I won't take it.

(shrug)

maybe it's because I don't know what it's supposed to be.

(breath)

cities on the moon. how cool would that be?

I would like to know

what's at the root of my current distate/disconcern for theatre up there.

Am I just tired of acting,

tired from wanting to act;

jealous,

or fighting the realization that I've not the personal store of determination and desire to get any better at it?

(exhale)

I think I wish like hell the past 15 trips around the sun felt like they meant something.

That passport can't get here soon enough.

This is what happens when I spend all day in bed at home.

"Asceticism is not that you should not own anything,

but that nothing should own you." -Ali ibn Abu Talib (fourth caliph of Islam)

Home

The G.O.A.T mom and I just had the house conversation.

I've officially stated that I want the house once they leave (for which/whatever reason).

This is a big house and it takes a lot of upkeep.

Yeah. I know.

----------

(sigh)

My mother told me,

as she worked on her latest paint-by-numbers project,

that "it's too late for her";
that she'll never get to live up to her potential;
that she wouldn't get married again and seemed to imply that, knowing what she does now, she wouldn't have the first time.

She wanted to buy my father's insurance business from him.

Perhaps, had a I made earlier mention of a desire to assist her with it, he would've been more willing.

The world is not enough.

and people wonder why I'm no longer big on "love".

Attack of the monster.

If you ask and I say it's because I'm tired, please just leave it at that.

If it because of you, I'll just stay away from you until it's no longer an issue.

If you continue to ask me about after I've denied you as a reason, you will become part of the reason.


Please,

do not become part of the reason.

"professional solitaire player"

I find the above term to be comic genius.

One of several useful things that came out of eBay hell week.

"from my diaphragm"

is actor funny.

I think I'm being

shown my own need to slow down.

or maybe just that we are what we are...

(shrug)

In other news...

"I'm either going to play or get married" has probably gotten to the point where it's truer than I ever intended it to be. Not that that's unexpected.

From fear of paternity to drawn by paternal instincts.

Or maternal. (hee)

Hmph.

I just realized I've not yet seen

Cars. Let's see if I can't remedy that.

I just responded to an email

asking if I'd seen the Iconoclasts episode on Desmond Tutu & Richard Brannon. I replied that Tutu should get to live as long as trees.

I think that's an interesting concept...

That there are people who've gotten so good with this humanity thing...that they should get to live as long as trees.

Seems strange how much capacity to conceive of what we can't do.

Or maybe it's just what we can't do yet?

(shrug)

Impressionistic painting

Never audtion for anything you're not willing to do.

No matter how much you doubt you'll actually get it.

hehehehehehhh

I didn't like this at first....the "but, he's a MUSLIM" nitwits don't need any more ammo.

Then I saw the "harpie" thing and, well...ok.

JJ vs Feminism

Part 1

Part 2

Why I Believe in the Bike

This past Sunday, I took a friend for a ride. This is the first time I've ridden with this person, and the first time she'd ridden a bike that wasn't stationary in years.

I spent some time setting cleaning the chain and setting up the MTB for her (best guessing, but she's not terribly removed from my dimensions). When she arrived, I looked at her cute, though casual garb and thought things might not go well...

We loaded up and headed up the West Side path. I just found the crossover that allows you to continue on the path on through Harlem on my last leisure ride, and there's some great scenery once you get past the bustle (yes, there's now high weekend traffic on the path up to around the 100s), I decided we'd head up until she'd had enough*.

Making a bicycle travelogue is not my intention here, but I will say the view seemed even more pleasurable than last time....this may have had something to do with the threatening wind and clouds we saw up until past midtown.

I remembered to check to see how she was doing a couple times, as she primarily rode behind me. She said she was good, so we kept going. We made it to my previous turn around point where she graciously elected that we continue on the path. It finally terminated in a park north of Fort Tryon.

I think I should interject at this point that we did stop twice on the way up, both at my behest - I will forever pause for fresh cornonthecob. 'Twould be un-chivalrous to speak the reason for the other pause...

We headed back down through the park to take a look at the Cloisters and the Medieval garden. Leaving Ft. Tryon, I asked how she felt about riding in a little traffic (the bane of most who've never been on or've been away from the bike for some time - and it IS NYC). She indicated her willingness as long I didn't get her maimed (or worse), so we headed down Ft. Washington Ave.

Most of that was kindly provided with a bike lane. Again, she was faring pretty well (including dealing with numbskulls on a fairly major intersection trying to turn left), so I forewent switching back to the bike path until we ran into Broadway. THAT, I chose not to subject her to. So we backtracked to a cross street that led us to Riverside Drive. We made our way back down that until switching back to the bike path.

It was close to early evening; the path traffic had cleared out significantly. She was getting her cadence up fast enough to for the bike to feel slow (thus did I interpret her comment about it feeling shaky), so I got into my big gear. Again, she hung with it - though I did sort of hear about it later. Only after I brought it up. In her way of letting me hear about it.

Anyway...

We got down to Tribeca, and I decided it was snack time, so we went to Whole Foods for the cool down. It was here we had a regular vent session, releasing in turn about each others work. I always find these interesting, because I don't think we particularly get what the other is talking about, not all the time anyway - but I'm pretty sure we both know that's not completely the point.

Speaking of the point...

We usually do this anyway, but I have to think there was something about that ride that made things spill a little easier. She relayed somethings that were pretty deep (again, not uncommon for us), but they came forth with an underlying emotion that I'm not quite used to seeing from her. You know how you say something without pre-thinking? It just and how you feel about it come out at the same time?

Yeah, that.

And I think that was due to the ride. And that's what a good ride does to you.

It energizes you,

it flushes you,

it saps you so the only energy you have left is closer to basic need -> none left for hesitance and social form. Polite society crap

"This is what I gotta say and I gotta say that sh!t now"

(bleh)

it falls out of you.

And maybe it wasn't that deep to her...

And, as I'm sure is obvious now, I was heartened quite a bit to so her diligence in it. Granted this is a former runner, but getting out of the physical habit can still be the basis for a shock when you try to jump back in, and she's had much to deal with besides...

And that chile rode a good part of 30 miles...

So, yeah.

I believe in the bike. Come to the altar sometime, maybe you'll become a believer, too.

*(cranky crotch, numb butt, saddle soreness - many names for the #1 premature ender of two-wheel-ed glee)

(insert title here)

I've been on one of my "I hate NYC" things for the past few days.

or weeks.

or epochs.

Which I'm sure has nothing to do with the summons I was issued for riding a bicycle on a sidewalk.

Anyway, whenever this happens something usually comes along to challenge the statement.

Fate's little way of saying, "you don't really mean that". Or maybe God just knows I need help.

Anyway.

I got onto the ferry yester-eve and stepped out onto the upstairs outdoor deck. This has become fairly uncommon for me as I've elected to do most of my travel via the bicycle in Manhattan, despite the city's discouragement. Even when I'm not riding, I'll still avoid it. I'm so very full of tourists.

It was about 8 o'clock, and the sun had come out at the end of what'd been a rainy day, so there was a visible haze. It was cool, though, not the stifling cloud of stank and rank that will no dubt be showing up periodically from June to September. The was enough sun for the sky to be light and blue, yet the moon hung there full and clear. Off to it's right, was the Verrazano Narrows Bridge, not yet lit and a little bit ghosty in the haze.

And I knew exactly what was happening. The universe was doing that thing where it tries to show me another perspective; show me why I wasn't going to continue to boil at an ulcer that I'd been kicking up for the better part of the previus 24 hours.

And, I said hell no. I was in no way giving in to it, because the hell surrounded by water and toll booths has taken too much of my skin without restitution.

And then the (I/we)

had a realization-resolution-settlement.

It goes like this:

(ahem)

I hate the city...

but I love the view.

I'm pretty sure

the smell of undercooked bacon is analogous to that of cooked human flesh.



(barf)

Justin Timberlake & Jessical Biel

Forgot to say, I passed these two while on my way to a casting this past Thursday. They were being hounded by paparazzi on bikes.

the New Deal - Then Now

I don't know that I can tell you just how good this feels to me...

particularly while crossing Victory,

in front of the church,

with the sun..

..and a breeze.

What i learned today.

I love dogs that eat fruit.

(ok, I already knew that.)

I love dogs that eat almonds.

(!)

I love dogs that give hugs.

(hump grabs do not count.)

I really love when said dogs are part American Bull Terrier.

(a-stereotypical much?)

A phone...

that looks like a regular candybar-style, except all the keys on the front are touch, rather than real buttons.

except,

its hinged at the top, like a flip,

revealing a full-length touch interface underneath,

with the GUI reoriented for texting, scheduling, media, what have you...

close it -

back to the candy.

Hey, stop stealing my idea.

Don't Bite

"I'm too intellectual for property"

damn.

now if only I could right a decent rhyme more than one line at a time.

(see what I did there.....)

(nope not just that, but THAT too. See?)

{I'm special}

[braces look like boobies]

I believe I may have developed

an inseparable relationship with my hair.

So much for commercial acceptance.

$*%"! it.

i'll sweep.

Lalah Hathaway - Boston

yep.

Introspective

"From Above"


-copit-

stereo-typin'

(brooklyn-based, minority run non-profit theater) just sent me my W2s for work I did there last year.

1) I sent my taxes to the momcountant in Febuary.

2) TAXES ARE DUE IN TWO WEEKS.

....... : /

I guess they figured I we always wait to do our taxes late, so....

(sigh)

See, uh-sumption is a cycle.

I would say...

that I hope to be greeted the way John Bul Dau's mother greets him...

but I guess that would mean having a mother I haven't seen for 15 years,

who thought I was probably dead.

..

...

I guess it's enough just to watch.

...Just finished reading the Watchmen...

feel disappointed,

not in the book,

but the possiblity that humanity can be that stupid

/

easily manipulated;

and that that the idea of God could be conceived in a book?

Though, it could be argued, that's already been done.



Read it.

John Hope Franklin

Another of them is gone.

I shook his hand. I believe I said thank you.

The first time I read West African history,

not Egypt,

not afrocentric conjecturism,

researched history,

it was from a book with his name at the bottom and picture on the back.

Again, sir,


Thank you.

In the year two thousaaaaaaaand....

In the year two thousand, professional athletes will be allowed to pose with their wife or significant other....

Well, provided that she's -

um.

Hm.

Sure-fire Cure for the doldrums,

blues, general meloncholy

is here.

TVOTR

Roughly two and half years after it was supposed to, Return to Cookie Mountain is growing on me.

Rocky Road

I can't believe my mother used to let me eat this every morning.

Catwoman

hurts.

Punk

Rock

(exhale) (stretch)

I don't know if it was finally opening,
or the giant oatmeal raisin cookie,
or the Halls vitamin C drops (which are de-lish on an empty stomach),
or finally finding somebody who understands how out of place the dance scene in Slumdog,

AND that it is not a Bollywood movie so "it's Bollywood" does not compute,

AND agree that it takes away from the ending,

and that the person getting all this is Indian,

but I feel better today.

I doubt the sun being out hurts.

Tired

In a show. Been getting short headaches while in tech for the past couple days. Been riding the bike to and fro. Been getting up around 6:30-8:30 for past week. Been going to sleep around one.

Been waking up feeling like I over-exerted the day before. Ache in one side of my neck like I slept in wrong position (which I didn't). Been feeling soreness in throat periodically; don't now.


When auditioning for this show, I thought that it would be my last show for a while. I agreed to do a character that I really didn't want to. 'Cuz, you know, actors can't pronounce the word "no". That's why we have agents.
Took part because I needed a please-accept-me crack fix after not even getting a callback for a show I wanted to do earlier this year,

to say nothing of my inability to book a national commercial...

I want to smack one person in the show definitely,
I want to smack another person in the show sometimes,
I want to smack a third person, only when they try to perform the duty of the title they've been given (eyeroll).

Well, I said I wanted to perform outside of the circle that I'd been working in.

I think I may have found an avocation rather than a profession.

I want my 7.5 years back.

Um, chicken fried bacon?

Really?

(pelo)

I had a (nother?) dream about cutting my hair last night.

This was of particular note because it happened within the context of an acting class (if I am recalling correctly).

I'm in the class and, at the end, the room is stormed with a team of hairdressers trained on me. It seems as though it's intended as a surprise.

I respond bruskly, negatively. Then inform the instructor of this class as to the basis of my indignation.

I believe I compared touching a locked person's hair without permission to doing the same to a woman's breast.

Even then, notice that's it's generally considered un-acceptable to make that request.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _*

Summary: I have hair issues.

"Dispatches from NAPPYVILLE"

Dispatches from Nappyville: WTF, NPR? Way to totally mischaracterize discussions about black women, hair and Michelle Obama

by Guest Contributor Tami, originally published at What Tami Said

That Farai Chideya is no longer holding it down at NPR’s “News & Notes” is abundantly clear. Yesterday’s “News & Notes” segment–” The Obama Effect on Black Women’s Hair Issues–was some serious insipid nonsense. Since the dawning of the Obama era, I’ve sensed a disturbing trend in coverage of black women’s issues by mainstream media. Having a black First Lady seems to have inspired the media to take some notice of the unique lives of African American women. Good. Problem is, the gently increased coverage is shallow and inconsequential, and often has the feel of detached voyeurism–academically peering at the exotic world and strange habits of black women (oddly, this is so, even when the work is presided over by black women). A product of these travel guides to Blackchicksylvania is the “Lawd, us black wimmin’s hair sho is complicated” story, which usually includes the meme that Michelle Obama’s hair is a hot topic among black women. And so goes the “News & Notes” piece by Allison Samuels, featuring celebrity stylist Marcia Hamilton.

Listen.

Says Samuels, “We now have an African American president, with an African American wife and two African American daughters. So now we talk a lot about hair–things we probably didn’t talk about when we had First Ladies who were not African American. So, the conversation has gone from one end to the other. Should Michelle wear more natural hair? Should she cut her hair? Should she have a perm? Should she press and curl? Why do we have such an obsession, even now, in 2009, with black women and hair?”

First, I would love to know where these purported conversations about Michelle Obama’s hair are taking place. Where is this obsession with her tresses flowering? So far, I’ve seen several articles about the phenomenon (I believe Salon has peddled it, too.), but have yet to experience it among any, y’know, actual black women. As far as I can tell, in real life, no one is riding Michelle to bust out the cornrows at the next State dinner. (According to Samuels, black female bloggers are calling for Michelle and her daughters to be champions of black hair. Why’s everybody got to blame the bloggers these days? I’m plugged into the top black blogs and haven’t seen any such discussion percolating. Hmmmm.)

Now, there has been some discussion about how the politics of black hair might effect the politics of the nation. It is no coincidence that when Michelle Obama was portrayed as a radical on the cover of The New Yorker, the cartoonist drew her with a big ass afro. And many nappies have noted that Barack Obama may not have been elected president if the woman at his side had been rocking twists or locs. Natural, black hair is demonized in our society. People often attach meaning to it where none exists. I assume that Michelle Obama likes her hair just fine. But anyone with a lick of sense should understand why the styles she chooses tend to be straight and conservative. If I were Michelle Obama and my spouse were a black man seeking the highest office in the land in a country still struggling with racial bias, I’m pretty sure that I’d wear a flattering, conservative, straight style, too. Not to mention the look she had to maintain while climbing the corporate ladder herself.

Recognizing the politics involved in Michelle Obama’s appearance is not the same as calling for her to be the poster child for nappydom. Although you all know I advocate natural hair, I recognize that the decision to wear it is not one to be taken lightly. As much as I might like to see more black women decide that nappy is beautiful and professional and elegant, I’m not about forcing my choices on other women when I won’t be the one living with the consequences.

Many black women have fraught relationships with their hair because we are the only race of women who are expected to change the natural properties of our natural hair to be deemed acceptable–professionally and personally. Rather than discuss this in a meaningful way, Samuels and Hamilton normalize the pathology surrounding black women’s hair.

Some choice quotes from the report:

“Our hair needs certain enhancements…”

“Black female hair can’t handle the stress of ‘getting done’ every day…”

“Don’t all little black girls get their hair straightened on special occaisions?”

“In our community, straight hair represents a more polished look.”

There is a lot of discussion about the damage created by heat and manipulation to achieve straight styles a la Beyonce…the need for weaves and extentions…and some offhand acknowlegement that the deifying of straight hair is a learned societal value, but the conversation never comes back around to the ridiculousness of black women having to go to such great lengths to be accepted. No one ever brings up this simple fact:

Black hair can be styled every day and maintained with ease if it is worn as it is naturally meant to be.

White women’s hair would be deemed “difficult” too if society suddenly decided that ponytails and straight bobs are “radical” and “too ethnic,” and only tightly-kinked hair is acceptable. If white women had to use chemicals and extreme lengths to maintain afros or kinky twists, then people might roll their eyes and snicker “you know white women and their hair,” too.

But Samuels and Hamilton position straightening and weaving as simply what we have to do to look good. Even as they decry the idea of “good” hair, they also dish about special suppliers that provide the best Indian hair for high-quality weaves, stashing your weave in the glove compartment of your car in case you need it (Huh?) and Hamilton actually suggests that men wanting a black woman with real hair “go to Africa.” She then acknowleges that even women in Africa are wearing weaves. (Yippee! Sarcasm.)

I am offically over the Michelle Obama/hair discussion. If we can’t have a real talk about black hair, then let’s not have one at all, particularly in the mainstream media. And let’s leave Michelle Obama out of it. With her fierce intelligence and accomplishments, there is so much more that she can be to our country and the black community than our “Great Black [Hair] Hope.”

(Weird)

Thomas Grunfeld

Yes, those are real animal remains.

Saw up close at an exhibition th'other day.

:/

Katrese Barnes

The person who actually wrote this,

was the female half of the brother/sister group

who did this.

Know your Black history.

(splash)

I mentioned that I've been privy to 3 acts of public excretion while in NYC.

That was wrong.

I've witnessed at least SEVEN acts of public excretion since being in NYC.

The most recent was a woman in the Times Sqr subway station* around 1pm this past Saturday.

(pull pants to thighs, lean against wall in a squat and.....)

And as proof of the small world theory,
I'm very certain it was the same woman from the WSB.

(ahem)

ew.
Avoid all puddles in new york city.

*3rd time in the subway system

Soul Sessions

is officially my friend*.

Just saw Tell Me for the first time.

Never even occurred to me that there was a video for Didn't Mean to Turn You On.

Don't you wish Alexander O'Neal was yo pawpaw?



*still somewhat begrudgingly, until no longer owned by Viacom

(sigh)

help.

George Frmn

I've always seen George Foreman of 60's and 70's painted as this lumbering, bestial, mute brute -

in contrast to the affable, garrulous salesman of the 90's-now.

However,

if you can watch Foreman v Frazier I,

and see the Cosell in-the-ring in-ter-view

(that no one EVER shows),

you can see not just the salesman, but:

the preacher
the father

and something people never think of him as...

the social activist.

(big up 5th Ward)

Damn shame it takes 40 years to see a human being.


(young man, no?)

conjugation

yikes

yikeser (still trying to understand how this works)

yikesest (...reversible....{!})

Why is it

EVERYTIME I stop in Soul Sessions

(I'm trying to give BET another chance)

"Long Distant Girlfriend" comes on?

Sleeping Beauty

Animated short.

Excellent.

meaning:

funny.

Monster's Ball

Was flipping through and it was on IFC.

First instinct was to keep going, figured it was time to try again.

Managed to make it through THAT scene,

...only took 7 years and change.

Actually, it is one of the better shot sex scenes I've witnessed.

Berry's hospital scene's powerful; I sort of feel the same as I feel about it as I feel about D. Washington and Training Day: I don't yet see anything I didn't already know she was capable of (it was new to YA'LL, not those of us who paid attention).

I no longer hate Billy Ray Cyrus I mean, uh, William Robert Thornton,

But the film impresses me more than any of the individual performances,

(shrug)

maybe that's how you tell...

None of this changes my views regarding who won and what they won for that year,

and why (?)

I am ever more against awards shows.

That is feeling progressively less about spite.

I was just thinking how I'd feel about this,
how other's would feel about this,

were it an older,
darker,
(less Hollywood pretty?)

actress as Leticia Musgrove.

Then I remembered Ms. Bassett turned it down.

(let's not even get into Storm)

Whole

I've been fighting over how to say this.....or just excusing myself from saying it....or just procrastinating.....

but here goes:

Within the past couple years, I had the minor epiphany that I will never reach any of my potential until I find my other half.

(sigh).....background? Ok.

Back yon, when I was living off the credit bought by my "potential" in college, we were assigned a book called The Symposium by Plato. It was one of the few books I read for Human Situations. Actually, I think it was the ONLY book I read for Human Situations (it's short). Aside from that, it was notable to me at the time in my dismissal of it as largely a justification for pedophilia an elevation of homosexuality as a being more pure than heterosexuality.

Oh, and Aristophanes' speech about human life-partnering being about trying to restore wholeness stuck with me as well. In short, humans were originally spherical with a face on each side. Zeus got mad (as usual) and tore us in half. Since then we've been searching for our other half.

Skipping ahead a couple millenia...

I used to work on a car lot. I did not enjoy working on a car lot. It was just a lot of empty attempts to part people from as much of their money as possible to me, and had no great deal to do with my personal fervor for automobilia. The manager of the lot was the daughter of the owner of the chain. One day I went in and expressed my possible desire to move on. I cannot remember why she told me this, but she stated that sometimes it's hard to do w/o having a reason....someone (family?) to work for. Thinking about it now, she might have been saying that as much in reference to herself as to me (found out later she was in an ending marriage w/no kids; she now how has a diff hubby & a trio of romperdom to contend with). At the time I felt like there was at least one other human being in that building and hung around until after she was replaced. I think I put in my notice a week within her leaving. Or close.

Anyway...the point.

(sigh)

I have a strange relationship with women. I am a self-admitted and unashamed mama's boy. I slept in the same bed with my older sister until I was seven. My childhood was spent largely around her and my mother with most interaction with other children coming when we visited family. I went to the mall with my mother far more than I ever did my (one) homeboy and a couple other friends I made through him.

I had (what I consider) my first true love in 10th grade. I had my first official girlfriend two years later. She lived about 75 miles away.

I dealt with peers and the ensuing pettiness for the first time in college, in coed dorms. I had a girlfriend that I saw more than once a month for the first time (admittedly, was more about the state than the person at the time). I let some miscreants piss me off early on and went on to behave an entitled, spoiled ass for much of the next 3.5 years.

I left there and found who I thought was my match...went back and forth for a while, finally decided to say it out loud upon having to do the long distance thing. That fell apart.

Since then I've been in one long, confusing, maddening, uncommitted relationship and one other that was just long and uncommitted.

In the interim, I have several female friends who, at some point, were attracted to me/didn't get why I wasn't attracted/thought I wasn't attracted/moved on/met me while I was in a relationship and moved on/blahblahblah...

(inhale)

I'm sort of scabbed over now. I can't feel like I used to. Having someone hold my hand doesn't feel the way it used to. Being around someone doesn't feel the way I remember it. I don't get that sensation of glow like I did sitting in the back of a car in a parking lot at night back in 19XX. I've had moments. The second I sense "in love" coming from the other direction, though...(cringe)
It's like the side of my face that's been numb since my wisdom teeth were removed. There is sensation there, but it's dull. It's just enough to remind you what's not there.

So, at some point in the past few trips around the sun, 2006 I think, I came to the conclusion that we are only half until we find our other. I didn't immediately think of Aristophanes or my former manager, but I won't deny them their presence in it.

There have been times when I thought it would have to come with someone new - too much pain built into the past. That "new thing" feeling used to be what I said I missed most in the college relationship**. Plus, there's the chance to develop a new image among that person's community...a chance people won't scowl and eyeroll when you make the announcement.

There have been times, including more recently, it's felt that it would have to be someone I already know. I'm tired and don't feel like putting in all the work to learn somebody new. It's always funny how you can get out of these relationship things 'cuz you think the other doesn't get you, then you move a few years on and talk to them, and you're astonished at what they knew about you and what you didn't know about them. Or did.

I even managed to have a little crushy flare up for an ex last week.

(inhale....exhale)

(inhale)

(exhale)

There was somebody, once, who I was ready to marry. I knew then that I she was who I wanted to partner with, but I felt like I didn't have anything to offer her. You know, the stuff that the "man" is supposed to be able to offer; stability and such. My father said to me "when you gonna marry that girl".

Now, I'm pretty sure that I feel I will never have anything, accomplish anything until I find that other.

I will never reach my potential w/o another energy to fill the space that my procrastination, ephemerality, etc. leaves empty. I am not enough human to do it by myself.

Whole.

Though I'm not really sure how to get there from here.




(**in fact, what was missing most there was truth)

Intersexed

deep.

Found while researching Klinefelters.

Recessed

According to the numbers I've thrown into Excel(tm), I spent about $1400 more in '08 than I made.

The accountant's gonna have fun this year.

I Hate Facebook.

I also hate listening to these two fornicate.

:|

Broome/Watts/W. Broadway

Went back to the spot of last night's party. This time it was 9:30p.

Crossed W. Broadway heading west on Broome, decided to turn around and continue south via W. Broadway. I was crossing Broome via W. B'Way when last night's fun happened.

I rode up onto the sidewalk and waited for the light to cross Watts. As I was in the cross walk,

THE SAME THING ALMOST HAPPENED*.

As I the cab driver drove off apologizing and others were still looking at me, ANOTHER CAB ALMOST HIT A PEDESTRIAN IN THE SAME SPOT. At least mine recognized his mistake. That dude just floored it away.

Again, this was AFTER rush.

W. Broadway should be made one way here. Each of these instances occurred when drivers tried to turn left onto Watts or Broome from W. B'Way.

One of the city's more dangerous intersections.

Be wary.

*and this time I was wearing my hi-visibility jacket.

First(plural)

1) While riding down the WSB, I smelled a sulfur smell around after 23rd St. This is nothing out of the ordinary, I've caught this wind from this location before. It's slightly interesting, though, given that a bout 8 blocks later I glanced to my left to see a woman use the end of a park bench as the platform from which she got rid of her excess liquid.

- First time I've seen a woman excrete publicly*.

2) While in the Mid-manhattan Library, I stopped at the self-check kiosk to accouter myself for the trip back south. I apparently walked up on the end of an encounter between a seemingly Asian woman and and, I believe, a south Asian man.

Her: "But why make a racial comment? I mean 'go back to China'?... I'm not even Chinese."

- First time seeing two people at the self-check kiosk at the same time.

3) The Raleigh has been feeling particularly lively the past couple rides, today included. I decided to stay on the avenues rather than peddle all the way back to the WSB. I got to Houston and found a non-cobble-paved road that I thought I'd not tried before. I took it and crossed over Houston, picking up a fair bit of speed. I looked up and saw a lady jaywalking, and, not seeing any cars, either assume she was going to beat me or just didn't take notice of me. I assumed she'd continue and went to pass behind her. She suddenly decided to become attentive and was startled and started to hop back.......putting her BACK into my path. I stopped short of her and moved past in front of her as she exclaimed something involving an expletive. I shouted back over my shoulder, "Baby, if you gonna cross, CROSS".
I came to the red light at the next intersection (that I'm sure I would've passed had I not had to slow down) and stopped**.
Now, what I didn't realize about the path I'd taken is that it was an exit point for a Jersey tunnel. These are one of the most dangerous types of traffic feature you'll encounter in the city. There is heavy traffic, which really isn't so bad. In fact that's usually better because you can move through it while it crawls. Another problem, is that they tend to be forks where people can make a hard turn, or veer in the direction of that turn, or go straight - it's harder to read what people are going to do****.
As I was going straight through the intersection, a white Suburban approached attempting a left hand turn across my path.
Which is fine, except he didn't seem to have to wait for me to get a cross the intersection first.
There was a moment of hesitation where I thought he was going to hold off realizing that I was coming, but, like some many people during evening rush*, he saw pull back a little and moved forward anyway.
I knew the hit was coming***.
Halfway through the hit, I knew wasn't going to be hurt.
After the knockdown-barrel-roll-into-standing (if you're going to go down, get up fly), my worry was whether the bike was ok.
I thought we'd both gotten away with just some scratches, I realized that the back wheel was out of true - but not bent. THAT I made sure to check afore I let cousin leave the scene.

- First bike/moving vehicle "interaction". Thank you that it wasn't anything I couldn't walk away from.

May it be the last.

(inshallah)


* You mean I never mentioned the time I was headed back to the Times Square station from Times Sqr Arts Center when, right after I turned the corner a dude leaned against a building, pulled down his trousers and shot off a Saturn V rocket squeeze? I was certain he achieve lift.

** I'm one of those few people who stops for red lights while walking and riding. I go through if it's clear, but I don't sit there halfway in the street waiting for the slightest opening to run (unless it calls for it). I let traffic have their light...so if they cross me on mine, I feel no remorse about giving them both barrels of indignation about it.

*** Every time that I've been hit by a moving vehicle, I knew it was coming. Once while at a stop sign in Texas, I saw the lady behind me not looking up while creeping forward...(bump). I The ones you see, you can work through. It's the ones you don't that can muss your hair. Ergo, keep your eyes open and your head moving. You more likely to miss them altogether that way. Anyway.

**** And, to make it worse, it was evening rush. Worst rush of the day. Had I realized what time it was, I would've gone to the bike path. Mos def.

If someone asks you to pray for them,

or someone else,

don't ask why.

Just pray.

Being Boiled

goes kinda hard.

(there's a Kanye/Pharrell protege' somewhere on a collision course with the first :30 of this song.

Human

There has never been a time when this was not one of my favorite songs. I heard it when I was younger but connected to it for some reason...something about the idea of being fallible (though I'm sure I ain't really get what the song was about).

I just watched the DVD The Human League: Live at the Dome this past weekend. In it, it's stated that this song was not really a Human League song. Listening to it again and finally hearing some of their other music, I agree completely. It's not HL, but it is one of the best Jimmy & Terry* songs EVER.

Interesting interview on the DVD. Frankly, I'd skip the actual performance. I think it just serves to show how the heavily electric music is not best suited to live performance...not synth pop anyway (not much for a musician to do) AND that you shouldn't shoot the concert video on the last day of a long tour (damn, Philip Oakey, what happened to that high note). They didn't really build a stage show so....just listen to yer vinyl or magnetic tape.

Sometime between yesterday and today on the bus, I realized that I have lived this song out - if not in quotes, at least line by line.

Then again, maybe most of us have.

*Why did they never do a producer album? Is there a Jimmy and Terry greatest hits set? I think they and Alexander O'Neal** should get their lifetime achievement awards the same night.

**I just looked at the wiki entry for O'Neal. I didn't know he worked with JJ & TL (though it figures, the similarity in their sound is hard to miss)
**I HAD NO IDEA ABOUT HIM BEING REPLACED BY MORRIS!!!

Moto-sickle

(jump)

Force

"Embrace it or deflect it. Why oppose it?"




(mike terry - redbelt)

Just in case you need a reminder

this is who you* elected the last time.


*(by "you", you know who I mean)

Peas and rice

Just tried my first batch.

maybe a little too much coconut milk,
maybe added too much rice (although that was done in an attempt to suck some excess milk),
too long on the fire for what I was going for,

but not bad for a shot in the dark.

"Walk Hard" by Dewey Cox

Is actually a darn fine song.

Lil' Nutzzak's "Hard", on the other hand, is a loathe & like-it-for-a-second-before-hating-it-for-being-so-apt-and-getting-depressed type thing.

iss cold,

but I see sun;

so I'm happy.

I think this picture of Mary Tyler Moore

is dope.

Wait..this is legal?

Ew.

And more pork.

I should be upset by this.

But, you know what?

Go ahead.

Thin the herd.

BTW: Inauguration

Yes, I was there.

No, I don't feel as bad about missing the MMM now.

For all of the traffic, misdirections, and lack of facilities, I wish I could do it once a year.

Perhaps I'll settle for again in 4.

We'll see.

Am I the only who thinks

Dr. Rockso and Lil' John should do a song together?

James Earl Jones says talk, dammit.

A lifetime of achievement, but James Earl Jones isn't done - USATODAY.com

Does being born in September

mean you were conceived in hope?

Further Adventures in Sub/Urban Decay

deadmalls.com

labelscar.com

"I guess I have a lot of borderline health...

...disorders that limit me politically when it comes to eating."

Joyce from American Splendor

(the film)

(which I am currently viewing)

in roughly 10 mins,

i'll be heading south to the 44th president's inauguration.

not sure what will happen, or how to feel....but i pray we all have the opportunity to wax ad nauseum after the day is done...

inshallah.

'Toya Frazier

It's been a loooooooooooooooooooooooong time since I've seen her. I wish that I'd seen her since you grew up and got married (lil' 'Toya?!?!?!).

Growing up she was the annoying little sister in the neighborhood. Though I never got to see her as a woman, I'm glad we at least had some fun playing basketball.

May the Spirit conduct you toward heaven...

Bagger Vance -

do watch if you still need an example to explain the magical negro,

or if you want to see proof that, if you wrote it for Morgan Freeman, only Morgan Freeman can pull it off.

Otherwise, don't.

Raisin Brahms

funny.

I want some Raisin Brahms.

I think that I think..

we need God...because we need somebody we can't lie to.

You don't have to be fearless...

just fear less.

The Reason I Refuse to See Shrek the Musical:

I need no other reason.

I wonder who works

at Fidelity near Xavier....

"Leroy" & Alabama vs. GSU

Breaking the Huddle: Integration

In the section about Wilbur Hackett, Jr.'s first game against the Univ. of Mississippi, Hackett's father recounts hearing "Leroy" used as a seemingly perjorative term for his son. I've seen this doc before, but it was on this second viewing that I was reminded that I'd heard a classmate use the name in reference to our Black classmate of mine while in grammar school. I don't know how he came upon it. It's use wasn't malicious, and she didn't receive it that way. It was a joke between them, I thought...or perhaps he was calling her by her father's name, which is something we did as children. She is one of the those member of Black Gen Y who was blessed with a name beginning in "La", so I thought it might have been the similarity to "Le".
But having just seen this program now makes me wonder. If I ever have the chance to speak to him again, I hope I remember to ask what the origin of that was.

Another later story in the show is about USC's first game against the then still segregated Univ. of Alabama. One interviewee contributes that when USC's Black players led the team out onto the field, he heard an attendee remark:

I thought we were playing some team from California. That's Grambling!

The best jokes are always anecdotal.