The Boxer Briefings

Looking for me?

2006-08-31T00:47:00.000-04:00

http://thankugangsta.vox.com/

I am moving to a new blogger

2006-07-28T01:39:00.000-04:00

Sorry, it has been real. Know that I will be here from time to time, mainly to check the archives. I learned a lot about me here. I learned even more about the way I am perceived. I gained so much here. But I need pictures, I need clips, I need more SPPPPPPAAAAAAAAACE.

You should really try and find me, cause there is so much good news happening.

"...and then like that he was gone..."

OH yeah, I love LA.

15 days and counting

2006-07-01T01:13:00.000-04:00

I mean, really, what is there to write about. That's why I have been gone. If you really want to know, I haven't been inspired. The other day there was Superman Returns. One of the best I have seen so far, and this is from a true Superman fan. I like the whole nobody knows that this mild mannered reporter has great powers thing. But other than those few things...nothing. Not really inspired.

Cee-Lo said, "In no fashion have I lost my passion for the pen, it's just that lately life has been a lot less inspiring."

Watched the BET awards. Started off watching the first two acts with the peoples. They are 61 a piece, and opinionated. I didn't really want to have to defend T.I.'s sagging pants and the sound guys miscues, so I ended up watching it alone. Glad I left the room after Jigga man smack lady B on the B.

I am about to turn 25; a milestone. Most cats I know had a mini crisis at this age. They began to realize that 30 is coming. Who cares? It's been coming, let it come. Now women? That is a whole nother story. The women I have been involved with...

check day 14 and counting

You and I

2006-05-26T01:43:00.000-04:00

I guess we are not really so different. I mean, really, we are the same. We were cut from the same cloth. (Even though my people picked it) We have been fed the same bread (even though my sacrament is to brake and eat it). But all in all we are the same.

Fortunately, you all have been distracted. You have been caught up in prestidigitation. Slight of hand, if you will. You all took the blue pill (actually, you crushed it up and snorted it). It has you caught in, or rather weaving the tangled web. What are you going to do when it can no longer support your weight. You will fall without end and filled with nothing but the hopes that next web has been woven fast enough to catch you (all).

I hope that it is.

Can you keep a secret?

2006-04-24T18:18:00.000-04:00

You'd be surprised to know that this came to me in a dream. On second thought, you shouldn't be surprised at all. I used to call you and replay my dreams to you until I could figure them out. This one I don't need your help for. Maybe you'll need mine, either way this dream is yours. I have often conjured up dreams so real that they felt as though they weren't mine. How can you be such an anxious and attentive audience member in your own subconcious? It's simple. Supression.

"I know I don't know you
But I want you so bad.
Everyone has a secret
Oh can they keep it?
Oh no they can't"
-A. Levine

There is no need to make mention of those things you are that I never want again. It is equally as pointless to speculate about that which I am which by now, I hope you have decided you are much better off without. None of those things maintain any presence in my mind. You see, I don't spend any significant amount of time reminding myself of why I left you. I don't gloat in the making of a good decision. I don't relive the "at-a-boy's" and "good job's" that I never gave myself.

What I did was allow deal breakers to improperly punctuate sentences with conclusion when at the very least they should have been allowed to remain as interrogatives, if not...(ellipses)

What I do is spend way too much time ignoring the places inside of me that were only yours.

What I did was wait just long enough to not be able to make any decision other than the one I made. And I know that it was purposeful.

Can you keep a secret? Okay. I woke up to realize that you may have been the best woman to love me. Do you understand that? That means that with all things considered, you may have been the woman who, in my lifetime, would have loved me most completely and properly. That isn't to say that you were the woman I should have been with, because we are not and will not be. What I am saying is that I may have matured to the age and experience where I can feel the whole that we were. I know what completion is in a relationship. And we were. Completion.

But here is the head scratcher: You will not ever love another the way you loved me. That is not arrogant, that is real. I felt your love more than anyone. More than you. I knew how hard you loved me, yes more than you knew. That is why I left. Because I knew I didn't deserve that love at that time. I knew I couldn't return that love at that time. And in looking back, I know that I was correct. To this day I know I was correct. But also on this day...

I know how well I could love you. Right now. I know I deserve that love right now. I know how that kind of shared love, experienced now, would change the world. But since that love is no more, since that love lies covered in a place where only fondness of memories can kiss the lips of recollection, I wish you the closest love we had with whomever loves you with truth. Because I did. I still do.

Caring for Karen and Sharing with Sharon

2006-04-09T21:25:00.000-04:00

...late Sunday night. I have had myself a glass of red and a glass of white. No big deal, save the fact that I haven't had anything to drink in QUITE SOME TIME. Well, I had a glass last weekend in NY, but for the most part, I have been real easy on drinking at all. No, I don't have a problem. Far from Betty Ford, but I just decided to lay off. I think sometimes you have to do that. If you let liquor, music, or anything aside from religion remain a constant part of your life, your maturity will be stunted. Well, you evaluation of your maturity anyway. You will be unable to evaluate your life without that noun.

At any rate, been up to a lot of stuff. Where to begin? I have been working, yes I know...George has a job. Where? (title should be a hint) Well, that is not as important as the fact that I have been stuggling with the balance between it and my "other" job. Granted, being a starving artist is cute when they are observing you for RENT or some other Bohemian-like play, television series, etc. But even the artist has to eat. I grabbed a part time joint in an effort to remind myself of what I never want to HAVE to do. But I am soooo very good at it, that they keep calling me and scheduling more appointments for me that I want. It is somewhat depressing. All of the people I work with are making a career out of what they do. I notice that they truly fit their lives into the hours they have off from work. They schedule their truest passions and most earnest desires into the hours after 5 and before 9...and weekends. Not me, every time I walk through the doors, I realize that I could be using the time so much more productively. Don't let your reality squeeze your dream out of your head.

"JRenee" says she might start blogging again. I really hope she does. She has had a little man for some months now. I guess-timate some months, because she told me about it a few weeks ago, so that probably means she had him for a second. I wish her the best. Really I do. But I will also help her draft the "Dear John" if she needs. LOL.

Um...Jigga is still the best. R.I.P. B.I.G.
Inside Man? OH you mean you haven't seen it yet? So then you aren't ready to talk about the fact that Spike brought back the BOMB (it makes you get your freak on?!?!?) or the desensitization of the young boy eating pizza, playing vidoe games in the safe? Okay, I will wait on you.

Capote...Ray...Malcom X. Yeah they stand ALONE. And yes I am including Nixon. I love Hopkins as much as the next guy.

I really want to write about my current situation. Mostly because I want to figure it out. I want to put it on paper. But a while ago I let too many people know that I blogged. And those same people who all saw Malcom Lee's "The Best Man" would never believe me when I said it had nothing to do with them.....so for that reason alone, I created another blog. One that nobody knows about. I will write the rest of my thoughts there...than maybe I can figure them out.

Thought this was going to be a much more revealing/interesting entry...but I am lazy...and I want to get to the good stuff. See you on the other joint.

Life passes in a flash...

2006-03-08T16:50:00.000-05:00

God bless the man who captured his...with a flash.

Filmmaker and photographer Gordon Parks, the first black director to achieve success in Hollywood, has died at his New York City home at the age of 93.

Who will carry the torch?

The 78th Annual Academy Awards-“A Return to Glamour”

2006-03-06T11:46:00.000-05:00

That it was! With the extended coverage of the pre-show activities to whet the appetite and please the eye, it became obvious early on that this would be a night on which the stars would shine brighter than the flashing bulbs of the eager photographers who caught their every twinkle. From bejeweled bodices to trains longer than those run by Three Six Mafia in whatever hotel room they would occupy that evening, Hollywood’s best arrived in fine fashion to remind us of why we go to the movies.

“Martin Scorsese 0- Triple Six Mafia-1”—John Stewart

If there was ever a job interview disguised as a debut-hosting gig this was it. You can bet your ascot, Morgan Freeman, that the Daily Show’s host will have a Yearly Show hosting job perennially. Appropriate, Daily quipped early in the evening that Walk the Line was Ray with white people. It was this loosening of the belt around the waistline of racial, socio-ecomomic, political, and Semitic lines that told the story behind the other box score:

White hosts-77 Black Hosts-1 (Whoopi, I’m cutting you a break)

The show began with the first of many homage montage pieces that honored the hallmarks of American Cinema. Immediately following was a piece introducing John Stewart as this year’s host amongst the cannon of former Oscar hosts including, but thankfully not limited to, Chris Rock. Needless to say, apart from his Brokeback spoof with the “TV- has-added-30lbs-to-my face” Billy Crystal, Rock’s color commentary was appreciably absent.

“Raise your hand if you were not in Crash.”—John Stewart

Stewart began the show with a casual monologue that, true to forms of old, recognized the attendance of the Academy Award nominees.

The Academy doesn’t make too many mistakes. Well, there was the herding of the nominees onto the stage last year. Opting to allow this year’s nominees to remain seated, they were able to avoid the potential embarrassment of a pageant fourth runner up. This year’s producers set a beautiful backdrop for the likes of triple nominee, George Clooney who took this year’s first award for Best Supporting Actor in Syriana. As Clooney began to speak music began to play and was initially a distraction. In past productions we had become accustomed to hearing music as the indication to “Wrap it up B!” However this year each awardee’s speech was scored, which gave each acceptance speech the potential to be memorable. A return to glamour indeed.

With this return to glamour was a flooding of dry humor, led by our host with the most—dry humor that is. An award show is as much about the nominees as it is about the host. Stewart’s presence set the stage for such brilliant comedic bits as those delivered by Tom Hanks, Ben Stiller, Will Ferrell & Steve Carell. It was this duo’s commitment to their hilarious introduction to the nominees for Best Make up that will make room for comedic actors for years to come. As for Ben Stiller and the Amazing Green colored unitard? Quite possibly the most entertaining moment of the evening. Brilliant. But no presentation was better written, rehearsed, and executed than the introduction of the Honorary Oscar given to Robert Altman. Meryl Streep and Lily Tomlin were kindred. If you missed it, you need to call that friend with TiVo.

“I am concerned that Triple Six Mafia is gonna get into it with Itzak Pearlman’s posse backstage”—John Stewart

“Sprint’s has no idea how to handle the number of calls crossing their lines right now” –Joe Carlos, (said after 3-6 was awarded.)

And I am sure cell busy signals were heard for the first time. It is insane how I felt like “we (had) overcome” for the briefest of seconds. Then I thought of the disparaging comments that would soon be uttered by bourgeoisie black mothers and fathers everywhere. I knew what kind of jokes they were making in Dollywood. I knew that when 3-6 got to the stage the Academy Awards would turn into the Source Awards, replete with bleeps thanks to the delay.

But then, I thought about Queen Latifah and Ludacris. I even thought about the first artist to win a Grammy for Hip-Hop, Will Smith. Rap artist’s whose lives were changed by exposure. I thought about all the people in M-town, who have never left M-town and got a chance to see one of their own at the Oscars. A program they might have never watched otherwise.

Besides all that, their performance was damn good. It was well choreographed; and having Taraji spotlight at the end made it respectable. The song was everything that it should have been. You don’t like the subject matter that’s on you.

I truly believe that the Triple Six Mafia was the most appreciative Academy Award winners that evening. It was written all over their faces and maybe soon all over their bodies. What other Oscar winners do you know who will probably get an Oscar tatted on their neck?

This production was seamless, sensational, and left nothing to be desired...well except for an award nominated role. In due time...

Did anyone else...

*know that Wolfgang Puck employed 350 cooks and 900 waiters in preparing the evening’s meal?
*wonder why they showed Michael Lomax as many times as they did?
*hear the winner of the Animated Short Film thank his “Talented Life Partner”?
*start missing Beyonce when Dolly Parton came on stage alone?
*love George Clooney for mentioning Hattie McDaniel?
*like the bowties on the awards?
*think the penguins were overdone?
*marvel at the editing for the Gay Cowboy movie montage?
*hear John Stewart say “effete”?
*see the trailer for Crash: The musical?
*hear the woman with Paul Haggis (Crash) thank her wife?
*hear a commentator say that Triple Six would use their Oscar to make a set of grillz?
*think that Clooney saying ‘no’ was a little Brokeback?
*feel disappointed in almost every acceptance speech? (Good one Reese)
*want Selma Hayek and J.Lo to announce the

Jumping the Gun, er, I mean broom

2006-03-04T00:04:00.000-05:00

In the last week I have found out about 1-2-3-4, maybe 5 engagements in my peer group.

I don't think it is the same as it was for our parents. They got married, because that is what you did as soon as you got a good job. Your next mission was to find a woman and buy a station wagon. Understandably so. They were the Baby Boomers, their call was to procreate, which to them included marriage.

For us marriage is punctuation. We are the children that grew up with computers. We are the first generation that can dare to dream anything we want to because of the infinite possibilities promised to us by education, technology, and for many of us wealth. Maybe it is because I am single, but if I meet one more girl who says "I don't want you wasting my time, cause my clock is ticking" I am going to scream! I got a LOT of dating left in this body.

I ain't thinking bout that! I got much to do prior to popping the question.

My cousins who have been married for about 2 or 3 years, recently found out they are pregnant. It is such a joy to hear two young people be excited about pregnancy--after marriage. After having consoled so many of my boys through the roughest 2-3 weeks of their lives, it is refreshing to be reminded of how rewarding the gift of life can be.

"I want our parenting to come from planning."
-Com Sense, the sure shot.

Jack and Jill went up the Hill

2006-03-03T23:39:00.000-05:00

Jack:"Hey Baby"
Jill: "Hey, how u?"
Jack: "Good. Can I tell you something?"
Jill: "Anytime. Everytime"
Jack: "You are the sweetest thing I've ever known."
Jill: "Like a kiss on the collar bone? Sorry, I had to."
Jack: "It's okay. You ARE the soft caress of happiness. You are beautifully engaging."
Jill: "That's sweet of you to say."
Jack: "It is so easy to say when it is so plain to see."
Jill: "So poetic you are."
Jack: "A rose by any other name would still smell as sweet. I could not be poetic and you would still be a poem."
Jill: "You are too much!"
Jack: "You are always just enough...just right."

maybe I will never be satisfied, but I will be Better...

2006-03-02T23:12:00.000-05:00

I watch movies and television the way I am sure chefs eat. I would imagine that it would be hard for a world-class chef to simply order from a menu without looking at all of the selections. I imagine it would be even harder to enjoy the lamb without calculating just how much Rosemary he would have seasoned the lamb with. This is how I watch movies, with a critical eye. As a critic should.

Joe tells me I don't watch nearly enough movies. Geoff tells me I am not nearly dedicated enough. But Adonis said it best.

"When you watch yourself, why aren't you as critical of you as you are of them? Are you afraid to admit what you would say about your performance if it was someone else? Don't be afraid of it, embrace that."

Today I came to the realization that maybe I will never be satisfied, but I will be better. I watched the footage of the show and I was in disbelief. I didn't believe me, others may have, but I didn't. Not nearly enough. I know me, so that is not too harsh. The best part is being able to admit it. It raises the bar. I was unsatisfied.

But it was better than the first time, which WAS good. Just wait...

"This is Food for thought you do the dishes"
-You know who.

Let me catch you up

2006-02-22T21:29:00.000-05:00

Wow, things have moved very quickly since the last time we spoke, huh? I suppose you know nothing of the recent piercings and tatt's huh? Yeah I might have forgotten to mention those.

I guess the best thing for me to do is just give you my thoughts on some of the things that have been happening since we last sat down to turn pages together:

1. I am not a Tyler Perry fan. I feel like the wool is being pulled over our eyes. Sort of like "There's trouble in the Huxtable House tonite" when Olivia is being a pest and getting her way and nobody but Rudy can see it. Great episode, Charmaine, Pam, AND Vanessa on the backups.

2. How do y'all feel about that young little jubilee singer they have on American Idol this season. She reminds me of the younger, darker, female version of Al Jarreau. She has incredible control. Her voice is refreshing. She could have waited a year, but hell.

3. Snowman vs. Technology. It snowed around 22 inches a week or so ago. It was ridiculous. Cabs pulled over in the city. And as I walked away from my neighbors newly shoveled pathway with $50 in my hand (sheeeeeet... no taxes!) I noticed not one snowman on the whole block. Kids got iPods and XBox 360s, who wants to build a snowman? Shame. Real shame.

4. I need to read more. And I ain't talking bout online where anything can be published anywhere without fear of retribution in most instances. I mean books. Where there is the truimph of completion.

5. I have never had a surprise birthday party. My birthday was/is always in the summer when all the neighborhood kids were away. Or when I got to college, all the neighborhood kids had gone back home.

6. The show is going to Dallas...soon. DVD looks hot. Lots of work to do. Little time. Feeling confident

7. Fell in love over the phone. Always wait till you can fall in love in person. That kind of thing only works for Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan.

8. I called the whole Dave Chappelle thing. Made me think early: What if YOU were responsible for all the white people that dared to try saying their "nigger" jokes by the coffee pots and water coolers every Monday and Thursday mornings? What if the real culprits were only you and 50? Well, you know 50 don't care, don't you think you would start to?

9. With that, I don't think his cannon of works suggests in any way shape or form that he should be on Inside the Actor's Studio. I feel you Dave, I was just as suprised as you were. Propoganda again.

10. I am glad I never got a tattoo. But I wish I could find my earrings before my holes close up for real.

That's all for now. I might be back, I might not be. You mighta missed me, you might not have. You might read this, you might not.

From Senator Obama

2006-02-22T21:18:00.000-05:00

After 5 Before 9 Production Company
The Tragedy of Any1Man
c/o Kristen Jarvis
BY HAND

Dear George, Brandon, and Benny:

This is just a quick note to congratulate you on the opening of "The Tragedy of Any1Man" in Philadelphia. Black Men face a unique set of challenges in America today. You are engaging difficult issues head-on, and I commend you for that.

One-person performances are among the most difficult for writers, drirectors, and of course, the actor. I can't claim to be a thespian, but I know what it's like to stand up alone before a roomful of people. It isn't easy for me--and I often get a Tele-Promp-Ter.

Kristen tells me George and Brandon have done a great job writing the show, and that Benny has really brought it all together. When the curtain opens, George, break a leg.

Sincerely,
Barack Obama

My First One...yes, I came close to tears.

2006-01-08T17:14:00.000-05:00

George -

You were loud, outgoing, funny, the class clown. You used your humor and your energy to talk about important topics that people were afraid to talk about in Eastern High School: gender, race, class, stereotypes and
prejudices. You were "popular" because of the volume of your voice and your comedy.

I was quiet, shy (maybe, but mostly scared). I thought similar thoughts about race and gender and stereotypes and class, but was scared. I didn't have the "popularity" power to open those discussions.

We were in Mrs. O'Keefe's 9th Grade AP English class together. We were both in a talent show one year. I opened the show with an immature (maybe, but I was proud of it) poem I wrote in English class - I was scared to read it on stage...

Right before the curtain opened you said, "Do you have something important
you want to say to all those people out there?" I said, "Yes, I really do." You said, "Well, tell them."

Those words helped me get up the guts and the energy to say what I wanted to say, and I'm still proud of myself for doing it. And still very thankful to you for saying what you said to me. You probably don't even remember saying it.

You are about to have your own "One Man Show" in Philadelphia. I'm sure this is just the beginning for you. You have always had important things to say to people. So I'm writing to tell you that I am proud to know you, and I just want to remind you, that as you continue to get larger and larger audiences, all you really need to do is "tell them."

I have just been hired as a Baltimore City Public School Art Teacher. I live in Baltimore City. I will be teaching in schools where the majority of students are below the poverty line, and are African American. I hope that maybe I can have you come speak to my new students sometime over the next year or so, as I get more settled into the job. I would love to have a person who I know come talk to them about what the real world is like - and what it's like to work as an artist who is just starting to "make it."

George, congratulations!
I don't know if I will make it up to Philly for your show, but I'm going to try.
If not, maybe you can bring it to Baltimore next.

Take care,
Julia Gumminger

Reliable like how?

2006-01-04T18:41:00.000-05:00

Out of a pain these thoughts are born. Today I was on the computer and I got an instant message from a young lady with whom I used to sing in the Youth Choir. She recently had a child by a young Muslim man who was subsequently incarcerated. Not wanting to put all her business out there, I mention this to explain to you why and how she was estranged from me. We started talking again, leading into the Thanksgiving season at which time I asked her if she had heard from her cousin, Nikki. I had been estranged from her as well. Nikki held most of my adolescent attention. It wasn't until I was promoted as a junior in high school that I could even go to sleep without begging God for her. We were friends, she was smarter in the streets than I was. I was attracted to her rough ends as much as she was attracted to my polished ones.

Couple of Youth Group trips to Ocean City, couple of Lock-ins, couple of kisses, plenty of notes on Church Bulletins. Then--the Sophomore Cottilion. I asked, she answered, we planned. Did I mention that she had a nose ring? Oh, well she did-- and Mom and Dad said "No". I believe that they were successful in their long term goal for denying our date, because it was this "unreliability" that led Nikki to stop answering my phone calls and as recently as today gave her the ammunition to tell her cousin not to give me her contact information and not to accept mine.

Later on in the day:
I have been calling her my best friend for perhaps two years longer than I should have. For today it became painfully obvious that she didn't claim me as the same. I suppose it has been out of habit, I have never been good at the break up. There have been numerous times I was on my way to visit her, even more times have I canceled. But each and every time it has been for the same uncontrollable, ultimately unreliable reason. Money.

Today she told me that both her mother and boyfriend (soon to be fiance')question my role in her life. They question my "reliability". Word? Boyfriend, makes sense...I don't want my woman having a man friend I can't substantiate and haven't met. But mom? Man that hurts. Not so much because the question was raised, but because no retort of rebuttal was offered. But a question was offered when we talked today.

Do you consider yourself to be reliable?

Well, my first answer was "Yeah, but sometimes things are out of my control." Weak answer, I know. But I was hurt by the implication in the question. And do you know how embarrassing it is to always be constrained by finances???

Yielding the same or compatible results in different clinical experiments or statistical trials. That's what reliable is. Reliable is a constant. I am not a constant. I am a variable, often subject to the limitations of my pockets. I have made amazing things happen with $10 and the willingness to take the bus, but let's face it you can't serve Ramen for Thanksgiving. Why? Well, because everyone around me can't handle having Ramen for Thanksgiving--and they shouldn't have to.

And they won't have to.

For 2006, I pledge not to bring anyone down on my way up. And if I have brought you down thus far with my "wretched unreliability" please let me know, promptly. I have done you a grand disservice, and I do not wish to subject you to me any longer.

Happy New Year!

WWW.ANY1MAN.COM

2005-12-14T21:22:00.000-05:00

Guilty Pleasures Pt. II

2005-12-14T20:33:00.000-05:00

1 Sarah Jessica Parker (with the dark hair)
2 Dominique Dawes, still
3 Dipping my fries in my frosty
4 Flirting with Big girls
5 Eavesdropping & Earhustling
6 Crushed pretzels in my choc.chip cookie dough
7 The Making of______(anything)
8 Listening to Pastor Ma$e curse on old records
9 Being held
10 My secret/anonymous blog
11 The many shakers of Atlanta
12 The female perineum
13 Drinking right out of the carton knowing that others will drink after me.
14 Girl wearing my sweats to sleep in
15 Willow:The Movie
16 Not letting her know before it's too late
17 Listening to Christina Aguilera's version of "Oh Holy Night" year round.
18 Listening to Will Smith's "Summertime" year round.
19 Apple Juice
20 Carrot Top

"He was the Charlie Parker of comedy..."

2005-12-10T23:42:00.000-05:00

So produced Quincy Jones as the soundtrack of the life of Richard Franklin Lennox Thomas Pryor.

Dave said, "I kinda wish he would have made that full recovery and put all these newcomers in their place."

Our parents had Pryor, Gregory, and Foxx. That's Redd Foxx, youngsters. We have UPN. Thanks Dad. No really, thanks Dad for keeping those well-marked tapes and The Last Poets records.

I remember my homeboy and choir member, Rich Hubbard, coming to pick me up on the way to a Youth Group meeting. Usually, we would listen Kirk Franklin, but I had managed to abscond with his copy of 'The Bicentennial Nigger.'

We sat in the parking lot of Mt. Zion United Methodist Church listening to the colorfully profane language of a genius. Some say he cursed too much. That is exactly opposite of what he was doing. He didn't curse anything. He was articulate. He was an artist who used every color combination available to him.

Picture telling an artist not to use emerald green or fire engine red.

Dear Mr. Pryor,

Thank you.

PS: By the way I loved 'Blazing Saddles' and I hope to meet Mudbone when I make it to Hollywood.

Guilty Pleasures Pt. I

2005-12-05T09:53:00.000-05:00

1 Regis and Kelly -she went to my high school & dammit they have great chemistry
2 Country French Dressing-it goes great on everything
3 Blacks
4 Text Flirting
5 Post it notes
6 Martinelli's Apple Juice-lots of it
7 The Space Jam soundtrack
8 Self-gratification
9 IMDB.com
10 JET magazine
11 Drinking out of the bottle
12 Picking my nose
13 The word "nigger"
14 Dreaming-day or night
15 Blogging
16 Smallville
17 Pattycake
18 Overdrafting
19 Embarrasing friends on the subways of New York
20 Older women, not like collecting social security old, but maybe soccer mom old

ANY1MAN. goes to Philadelphia!

2005-11-30T00:58:00.000-05:00

On Friday, January 13, 2006, the art of one-man performance will be transformed with the Philadelphia debut of "Any1Man," an original theatrical production presented by the multimedia firm Privileged Inc.

Starring native George A. Peters, II, an Eastern High School graduate, (Twentieth Century Fox's "Drumline" and Black Family Channel's "Souled Out"), the play brings to life the internal conflicts experienced by five uniquely different men, each of whom are consumed by their dreams, yet distracted by their lives. Written and produced by alumni of Morehouse College, the play dissects mainstream society's definitions of masculinity.

"While social scientists the world over theorize about the meaning and existence of manhood, it should always be remembered that manhood as a social construct is just that, a construct," says Brandon Fontenot Johnson, a managing partner of TheSpidersQuill.com online literary magazine.

"It is indeed a great pleasure to be in support of and to be a fan of this great performance," said Dwayne Crawford, chief operating officer of 100 Black Men of America, Inc. "It is one of the rare opportunities for the public to see and hear the multiple faces of men of African decent."

WHAT: Philadelphia Debut of "Any1Man."
WHEN: Friday & Saturday, January 13-14, 2006, 7:30 p.m.
WHERE: Society Hill Playhouse

What's funny at 12:46am

2005-11-29T00:32:00.000-05:00

1. Michael Irving said the "drug pipe" belonged to his brother.
2. What Asha just said on IM.
3. The fact that Tony looks like a groin.
4. Pipi Longstocking.
5. Big girls in boyshorts.
6. Jessica and Nick breaking up.
7. Watching the same guy who played Tom Collins in RENT, be a tough guy cop on Law & Order
8. That sound from Law & Order
9. Breaking up with someone you ain't really with.
10. When your boy says, "I am on some righteous shit with mine."
11. Same dude said a white woman "Petted" on his head.
12. Ceephus and Recee singin "Silent Night"
13. The fact that there is an "s" in the word "lisp".
14. Gay sign language--again.
15. Mase being a preacher...sometimes.
16. Patti LaBelle's hair in circa '85.
17. How light skinned people are not as in style as they were when I was growing up and slightly insecure around the white people I grew up with.
18. My cousin bringing her caucasian friend to dinner and seeing him try chittlins and say, "they taste like chicken".

Presence

2005-11-29T00:06:00.000-05:00

A dear friend wrote this to me a few days ago.

George Peters (II) has presence. Presence defies the limits of a person's body, defies the limits of the actual space it takes up. Some people call presence charisma. Perhaps its the same thing. There are many charismatic people who are not artists. Presence is not the same as fame. Presence means you hold your own space, control the space around you, and sometimes allow others into it. Presence of wit. Presence of mind.

Presence means paying attention to find any opportunity to engage. To maintain presence, one must move through layers of commotion
and noise and other entities which grab the light. Real presence is the feeling that the person on stage is right next to you because you long to have them there. Presence doesn't have to do with likability, nor does a provocateur guarantee presence. Presence requires being aware.

Presence is not the same as attracting attention. Presence burrows into your thoughts. It's not a gimmick. It's not a brand. It's not about grabbing the light, no, it's about finding the light and being a part of it. It's subtle. Presence will probably, in the near future, be based on absolute authenticity.

Whoever can achieve that in a world of brands and seductions will be truly charismatic. You possess presence in abundance. Dare to open your heart to the good and bad around you. The need to be heard is not enough. To be heard is only part of engagement. To develop a voice, one must first develop an ear. To develop a distinct mark as an artist, one needs to see the marks of others -- especially those who go unrecognized. Everyone makes a mark of some kind. Presence is the ability to absorb the world by being fully in its presence -- with all that is beautiful, troubling, and mundane. It is the ability to absorb and to transmit that which one has absorbed, with the simplest of gestures.

As an artist, you are one of the clowns -- one of the fools -- who sees the world upside down and inside out. You are a fool in the classic sense. But you take your foolishness very seriously. The mark of a true artist is one who takes the complex and renders it simply. Achieve on your own terms. And do not relent. Continue to be present in the world. George Peters (II) has
presence."

Why? Well let's just say I got cast in this little movie and cut my little dreds. Yeah, more to follow after shooting ends.

Is Monogamy Natural?

2005-11-22T09:42:00.000-05:00

Overheard on instant messenger today:

"Of course not but it's needed to support societies."
-Bennett Robinson, 25yr old single Black male

"If the definition of natural is occurring naturally, then monogamy is certainly the exception."
-Stephen L. Murphy, 25yr old engaged Caucasian male

Why didn't I ask any females? Because I am writing from a bias male centered point of view. Just kidding, this is what the ladies had to say.

"As a woman, I would like to think that it is (natural)."

When asked "Why?"

"Because I want to feel that I am a man's only. It is comforting and I would be his only so I would want that in return."

So there is nothing unnatural about monogamy to you?

"No, but there is nothing unnatural about polygamy either."
-Funky Brewster,24 year old single Black female

HUH?

"I don't think it's 'natural' to just want to be with one person because different people fill different voids in our lives.
Hopefully people find that one person that fills their biggest voids."
-Bianca, 26yr old aggresively dating female.

Author David Barash speaks of monogamy as a myth. "According to studies of the animal world, most of us are naturally inclined to 'cheat' or at least have more than one mate in a lifetime."

Oh okay, I feel you David. So you are saying that even the birds and the bees share themselves with other birds and bees.

I think that mankind felt at one point that it had something to prove, and I think monogamy was a way people chose to show we're better than our primal instincts. Of course over the course of time we should have realized that many of the things we deny ourselves to make ourselves less primal are actually just an unnecessary punishment, like prohibition and the abolition of prostitution.

Monty, a 2nd year law student says,"I think the only reason for monogamy is because we are inherently religious."

I would have to agree. Sidenote: I have always wondered about where Adam and Eve's only surviving son found someone to mate with after he left home.

It is interesting to me that most animals predicate their level of monogamy around their "culture's" requisite rearing responsibilities. (no that alliteration was not purposeful, I am no Jesse Jackson fan) Typically, the male impregnantes the female then goes back out to spearing gazelles, locking horns, or other obscure forms of territory marking.

"We don't sleep around because that's against the rules, not because we don't want to."
-Steve again

Terrance Howard, in his portrayal of Quentin in Malcolm D. Lee's THE BEST MAN offers, "If God wanted us to be with just one woman, he wouldn't have given us all this sperm."

What do you think?

Paper Cuts

2005-11-15T16:37:00.000-05:00

You know what the hardest thing to do is? Did that sentence make sense? Anyway, I think one of the hardest things to do is to stop being mad at someone. Forgiveness, you may be capable of, but that forget thing is a mother.

I hate being mad over little stuff, that ain't got nothing to do with big stuff.
I hate having to use the word hate.
I hate being misunderstood, or misjudged.
I hate not having fair audience or counsel to hear grievences.
I hate being upset over paper cuts.

When you are really upset, or disturbed by someone's actions and the situation is resolved, it is rare that you are cleared of all the peripheral emotions you felt surrounding it. It is hard to laugh and smile again. It is hard to share that inside joke. It is difficult to respect where whatever they did was coming from.

It is hard, but if you are truly friends, you will. Even if it is something petty. After all, paper cuts hurt the worst, but they heal the fastest.

"Take your time young man...momma used to say..."

2005-11-11T18:11:00.000-05:00

Cox says that there is really no way to get around it. When I asked him if knowing of this obstacle ahead of time allowed cooler heads to prevail he said, quite assuredly, "No."

We used one Sunday evening conversation in a series of many to talk about anticipation as it relates to women. See, he and I have been almost equally engaged by the sorcery of the female mystique for as long as we have known each other. Simply put, we appreciate a good woman. And we are good men. And if there is anything to tell a good story about it is good women and good men.

We matured in a climate that was greatly accostomed to the breath takingly beautiful, often overdressed African American woman. Fine as all outdoors. So there were always plenty of good stories about plenty of good women.

Amongst these women were great men, who conquered them. In this instance conquered is not sexual, it is not emotional, it is spiritual. Spirits were conquered. Not broken, but opened. What closed women of this caliber was their aloofness. But men of greatness had audience with them if only for a short while. It was these men who carried their stories, to younger maturing boys like ourselves. Though we knew we'd grow into the great men who'd become heroes of our own stories told at reunions and weddings, we were still just boys.

Every now and then one of the great men with whom we'd aligned ourselves would take us along on his journeys through the woods, giving us responsibilities we could be proud of and recongized by. They would tell great stories of how we reminded them of who they were before they became what they swore they would. So when we met great women along the way, we could be identified as important as well. We were the future, as promised by the present. We were the young apprentices; boys whose promise shined brightly. And people would notice.

Then one day on a journey through the woods I found myself alone. Though I knew this day would come for all of us, I was shocked when it arrived. I was no longer with the great men. I was the lone great man, recently grown. Standing in the clearing was a woman, occupied by her own growth, seemingly unaware of my presence. Suddenly and alarmingly she turned.

"My how you've grown. What brings you to these woods--alone?" she inquires.

I did not know what to say. I wanted her to know everything about me that others had always said would make me great. And now that I was, I feared I wouldn't have anyway to show her. I feared I wouldn't have as much time as I had with all those who saw my greatness develop. I feared my audience with her would not last long enough.

"I am back for you. I am now skilled enough to escort you back through the woods," I said.

"You are not the timid boy I once knew. Where will you escort me?" she dared.

"It has been years. I have come to take you to a hillside where daylight lasts long enough to see the sun's last courtship of the sky. And in the years that follow you can come to know the great man I have become."

So often when you meet this woman, one who you are sure has heard so much about you as well--you over act. You try too hard to be everything that she has been told you were. You fails to take into consideration that the stories that have been shared about you are the result of a set of experiences amassed over the sum total of months, perhaps even years.

Good luck with this one Smitty.

S.H.M.I.L.Y.

2005-11-10T21:48:00.000-05:00

This space is dedicated to what I would have said, had I been given the opportunity to say it. When I was ready.

This space is dedicated to what I would have done, had I been given the opportunity to do it. When I was ready.

This space is dedicated to what would have been, if it had been given the opportunity to be. When IT was ready.

Way out in the Boondocks

2005-11-07T15:27:00.000-05:00

It was underwhelming.

It wasn't the fact that they overestimated the versatility of Brenda from 227's vocal versatility. It wasn't the fact that, aside from Riley and Huey who looked great, the artistry, as evidenced by the number of Lee's and Wong's in the credits, resembled McGruder's comic strip only faintly. It wasn't the fact that I half expected to see the indicative motion lines of a high flying samurai warrior as the Japanimated-like peripheral characters gave monologue after monologe. It wasn't even the fact that I had to force a laugh or two out of respect to those I was watching with. Though it may have been because I had to catch the encore episode at 3am, thanks to the failure of Last Action Hero Donovan McNabb.

It was because, despite Riley and Huey's maintained fearlessness, the episode seemed purposeless.

I know, I know Art vs. Propaganda right? Somebody wake DuBois and Booker T. up for this one.

Fearlessness, often an admired characteristic of those deemed as revolutionary, must have a purpose. It cannot be shrouded in the hopes that propaganda will once again resurface since the untimely burial of the Chapelle show. I have no problem with diggin up the "N-word". I use it profusely, but if given a forum such as, I don't know,a highly anticipated Sunday night debut, I can assure you it would be more impactful than the revival of a pejorative term. That is to say, I can deal with pushing the envelope entirely. I can even deal with knowing what will be said at water coolers and break rooms each Monday morning. But to what end?

This is the Boondocks I love.
http://news.yahoo.com/news?tmpl=story&u=/uclickcomics/cx_bo_uc/latest
This is the one that pushes the proverbs, but makes a point. Aside from that fact that "I am not afraid to say what you think I shouldn't".

Last night? For naught.

Oh but Uncle Remus? (no relation)-- hilarious. Hope its funny when your newspaper boy is singing "Nigger essence" as he slings the funny pages into your chrysanthemums.

Better luck next week. But if not, I will continue to read the Post and do my best to remember how the voices of Huey and Riley sounded in my head.

Powerhouse 2005

2005-11-01T17:30:00.000-05:00

I know, I know Jordan came back, fatter and slower after he “ended” his career in storybook fashion. I know Magic Johnson, Steven King, Mario Lemieux, Too Short, Ricky Williams, have all returned to the kind of fanfare expected at a Ku Klux Klan rally through historic Bedford Stuyvesant in Brooklyn. But this Jay-Z guy, man he's different. Granted he hasn’t gone anywhere at all, but since he has “come back” he has been nearly beyond reproach.

But, Shawn Corey Carter a.k.a. Jay-Z says he’s retiring. He says it’s a wrap. “There’s nothing cool about a 40yr old rap artist.” Conversely, he offers “I can do this till I’m 80” on newly released, “Be like Hov”. (check AllHipHop.com I am link deficient, thanks to www.50h7.com) But for whatever it’s worth, he took two victory laps last week, and I saw the last one live.

I have been to several concerts in my life and can mark my favorite artists by those I have seen perform live. For all of the artists that I can call my “favorite” I proudly boast a collection of their live performances on CD. This is mostly because after seeing them live, hearing a radio edit just isn’t the same. I like to hear the crowd noise. I like to hear the slurs and heavy breathing that comes from being winded in front of thousands of fans who hang on their hero’s every word and will recite them when and if s/he runs out of breath.

Concert Resume: (just so you know from whence I evaluate)
_____________________________________________________________________________________
In no particular order...
Janet Jackson/Usher...Velvet Rope Tour
Lauryn Hill...The Miseducation Tour
The Roots (Philly twice/ Emory/, The Atlanta Roxy-twice)
Smoking Grooves Tour (Ziggy Marley and the Wailers, Tribe Called Quest, The Fugees, Busta Rhymes, Musiq Soulchild, Jurassic 5, Outkast)
Hard Knock Life (Redman & Method Man, DMX, Jay-Z)
Jill Scott
Musiq
_____________________________________________________________________________________
He would perform to a sold out venue at the Wachovia Center in the South Philly Sports Complex near the Walt Whitman Bridge in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. This was the second basketball arena the self-proclaimed “Mike Jordan of Rap” would play in as many days. The former, his partially owned New Jersey Net’s Continental Arena.

Wonder Woman got us the tickets. She has a big thing against publicity so I will refrain from using her real name. So I had to pick Gabby up from the 30th Street Station (sorry Gabby, Wonder Woman is too long to keep typing) as she was coming from New York just in time to make the show. I had spent the day going through Reasonable Doubt, Linkin Park and Jay-Z, all the volumes, the unplugged album, all the Blueprints, and the entire compilation of Black album remixes. Needless to say I was prepared. So as I hit traffic crossing the bridge from Jersey to Philly, I was undaunted. I had good music to keep me company. I had to brush up on my lyrics. There is nothing like sitting next to an Asian kid in the concert who is looking at you crazy cause you don’t know the second verse of “Streets is Watching”.

I know Philly pretty well so avoiding the concertgoers’ traffic should have been easy. But despite my twists and turns there was always a bumper in front and behind me. After much consternation we arrive at the most convenient of parking lots and drop the cool $10 for a spot that wouldn’t cause me to have to worry about who would be joy ridding in the whip.

The Show:

We stop at the concession stand for two cups, yes I said cups, of wine. Nothing like a lil sippy cup to make you feel regal. Who needs a souvenir beer, I will take some Cabernet in a sippy cup please!
Having already checked the seating chart in eager anticipation, I knew we had good seats. But it wasn’t until Leigh, the female usher, ushered us to our stage left seats that we knew how great our vantagepoint would be.

Wendy Williams comes out on stage and hits Philly with her standard, “How u doin?!?” signifying the show was about to begin. After about 10 minutes of hearing the white guys in front of us shuffle with excitement over the two HUGE blunts they managed to sneak in, the show began. No local opening act, no announcement about a trifling afterparty, just a presidential emblem projected onto the stage set of a replica Oval Office.

President Carter was seated at the desk. Shades and a General’s jacket, the back of which bore the same Presidential ensignia. From where we were seated you could see the spores on the olive branches.

President Carter, whose administration has come under fire since his inauguration managed to have nearly his whole cabinet present this particular evening. Boasting to the crowd that he was “uniting nations” his new level of diplomacy was nothing short of historic. After issuing the “drop that shit” command, his DJ, situated in the middle of the audience, spun the classic Dead Presidents. It would prove to be the soundtrack for an upstage center second platform entrance by Nas. Yes, I said Nas.

As the two stood side by side on stage for what seemed like hours, I was reminded of the times Michael Jackson stood silently on stage during Bucharest tour broadcast on HBO in early ’92.

“This is bigger than him, this is bigger than me. We are doing this for y’all”-Jay-Z.

Supporting cast included:

Jadakiss (whom the crowd did not immediately recognize)
Hometown favorites Freeway and Beanie Sigel (whose performance of 2001’s hits the crowd seemed only moderately appreciative of)
Jeezy who sounded like he neglected to put throat lozenges on his rider
T.I. (who was exceptional...ly short) but quite an energetic showman
Tierra Marie whose performance had the climax of an impotent 60year old man and the choreography of an Ashanti or Drew Carey dance number.

My personal highlight:

I found myself staring into the faces of the audience nearly as much as I watched the performances on stage. My ambivalence surrounding Carter’s adoption of the moniker “J-Hova” was complicated by the crowd’s chanting of it like the old folks scream praise songs at Sunday Service. Nigga what, Nigga who? one of my favorites, was difficult to stomach while seated behind a group of white boys who were reciting it like their own personal pledge of allegiance.

The most majestic moment of the evening was about mid concert when Jay-Z stood center stage, unaccompanied by music and broke into the nearly cult classic first verse of Biggie’s Juicy. Before he could get passed “It was all a dream...” the crowd took over.

He couldn’t have stopped them if he wanted to.

“...Way back when I had the red and black lumberjack...” it was then that we realized that he never wanted to. He had incarnated the spirit of Christopher Wallace and channeled it through each and every person in the arena. The crowd kept perfect time, perfect beat and even managed to speak in the fat mouthed diction of the deceased rapper. It was nothing less than beautiful...it was Hip-Hop—persevered and preserved.

Backstage:

Ever since I went backstage and met Lauryn Hill at the Smokin Grooves Tour, I have felt like I am supposed to go backstage at every concert I go to. The show is almost incomplete if I don’t get to walk passed some slacking security guards. I remember Lauryn, unattended to, struggling to learn the guitar as quickly as she could. I can recall how pleased she was when a humble little boy with braces came to her genuinely. I remember how tall Busta was and the cloud of ganja that surrounded him. I remember talking my best friend and myself into a Roots concert years later with the greatest of ease.

But this time was different. I had nothing. I didn’t know how we would get backstage, but we had to.

As the concert neared its end to the tune of “Encore”, Wonder Woman insisted we make our move towards the stage exit side of the arena. Convinced that there would be an encore, I wouldn’t budge. I was wrong and by the time we made it to the stage exit, the last performer, Diddy, was leaving the stage. We were caught in the swarm of screaming fans and even the artwork on my long sleeve memorial to B.I.G. wasn’t enough to identify us as the deserving escorts to the after party that we thought we should be.

If at first you don’t succeed...

As we rushed in the opposite direction of where the crowd was being herded, we worked our way down to the other side of the stage at ground level. It was there that we ran into Louis Gossett, III. This bald black event staffer (who I think took his job way too seriously) was easily duped. In fact his “gullibleness” had me feeling sort of bad, like talking back to an older relative who can’t hear you, y’mean? Anyway...

I whisper to Gabby, I mean Wonder Woman “you lost your cell phone”. Apparently that was enough for Ms. Who’s Line Is It Anyway, cause she goes into full-fledged method acting. “Oh my God, my T-Mobile 7109 Blackberry, that I just got, with all my phone numbers in it, that I need for work....”

“Well, perhaps you guys should go back up a few levels and check at the lost and found located right near the exit to the building” offers Gossett. Damn.

We act as though we are walking back up the incline but instead I make a beeline for the stage left backstage entrance equipped only with swagger. No neon backstage pass. Wonder Woman, donning an OLD school Yo! MTV Raps tee is three short legged steps behind me. First wave of security—passed. Second wave of breakdown team ripping the stage up—“How’s it going?” (Convinced that we were “somebodies”). Passed.

Now we are back here and don’t have a clue where to go. “What up, man?” to a focused Memphis Bleek as he walks by. That’s the best you got, George? Wonder Woman, wondering still looking for her phone.
We pivot away from L. Gossett, III who has now come backstage and would surely embarrass us if he saw us. Well, I pivot and Ms. Oblivious keeps walking.

We run into yet another brigade of event staff. All male. Preemptively, I ask if any of them have seen a phone, leaving WW to her tricks. I walk of to “casually” patronize the snack machine figuring that if she can work some magic, I can “just might sneak in...a couple words...”. In the snack machine’s reflection I see her booted feet walking up on me and behind her is Mr. Making the Band himself.

Singing. Bent. Three sheets to the wind. Baby Betty Ford. “Can I get an Encore...” Thought is was interesting that he’d be singing Jay-Z’s songs. Anyway, he walks out the exit towards his tour bus, flanked by security carrying silver briefcases.

I follow, with WW in hot pursuit.

to be continued...

Preview

2005-10-31T16:21:00.000-05:00

I will have two distinctly remarkable posts appearing over the course of the next two days. Depending heavily upon how much preparation for filming and auditions I need. This is a huge week. Production begins on several levels. Fruition is achieved on several levels.

BUT...

I went to the "last" Jay-Z concert, and you need to know all about it.
Coming soon

Entry #1-Backstage
Entry #2-Anticipation
Entry#3-Any1Man.

Tell your friends...set your browsers.

Homecoming 2005

2005-10-25T19:06:00.000-04:00

My personal theme?
Soul Machine Revival...in verse: In the Round!

Raj and Joe do it best.

Raj uses numbers and lists (redux and candle) Joe amasses volumes (parts 1-4). I am trying to find a happy medium between the two. So I will use quotes. Here goes it, as inspired by Overheard in New York.com Feel free to add. Memory and alcohol do not good bedfellows make.

What was overheard during Homecoming 2005
Thursday, October 21--Monday, October 24

Thursday night:
"Out the North but the T-mobile still connects."
Walk was my first call. He was my ride. Jen was my second, she needed to know just how good I looked fresh off the plane. But nobody I called was a hype as I was, so I decided to post up and let people try and figure out who I was. Much to my dismay there was no throng of fans fighting over each other for my attention. But there is something about de-plane-ing fully dressed for the party that keeps your energy going despite lackluster residual energy.

_______________________________________________________
Overheard on Friday:
"I have never been to a party where condoms and candy were distributed. That guy sprinkling was on some Willy Wonka type shit." said during the let out of Black Love I: Power to the Party. One of the privileged to enter's account of Laffy Taffy's filling the air during the southern song that shares the candy's name.
***
"Cocaine is a helluva drug......Black Love was a helluva party.....I'm privilaged bitches!!!"--Big Rod, THE faithful Privileged Party Pal.
_______________________________________________________

Overheard on Saturday: (tailgate)
"There is something pure and organic about the Happy Juice," reported Benny Walk.

"No water." responded Jos. Carlos

***
"Nzinga looks like a young Della Reese! Not the weight (per say) but the hair." Wish I could take credit for that quote.
***
"She is wonder woman, cause last night her hair was sweated all the way out. And now the shit is bone straight?!?!" --in response to Gabby (not dreams), the one you haven't seen on the yard since she graduated, somehow having perfectly straight hair only a few short hours after having a noticeably good time at Black Love I: Power to the Party.
***
"Seeing all my friends together in one place was fantabulous and very sentimental… leaving all the drama at the door and just enjoying the moment was beautiful" Gabby Wiley, the one you used to think was Mexican? Yeah she was there and she looked great!
***
"Morehouse homecoming unplugged, big shouts to all those that were enrolled before there was a parking deck, while West End still had an annex, and when we thought Public Safety carried rubber bullets. Did it really matter? They still broke the skin!" --said by Any1Man. who somehow Interplayed (suckered) an entire tailgate audience into being interviewed ad nauseum with a mic that was only plugged into his pocket.
***
"Do these cats have Salmon on the grill?!?" one nobody's surprise exclamation after standing on tip toe to find out what all the fuss at the Ifelta tent was all about.
***
"I am ready to go!" one AKA's outburst during what she deemed to be a disappointing performance by her own sorority sisters at the step show.

_______________________________________________________

Saturday Night/Sunday Morning:

"Kelli looked like a background dancer for Cyndi Lauper"--but I think she has hella style and we share a birthday, oh and my boy is in love with her. But it's a great quote nonetheless.

"Tkai is still killing niggas!" said by an anonymous ABC correspondent.
***
"Nobody makes drunk or high look sexy like she does...I know what it is. It's those squinting eyes." said by the same anonymous ABC correspondent.
***
"These cats are carrying billfolds? I can fit my legal research in there!" D. Cal's drunken ramblings. ______________________________________________________

Overheard on Monday:(lunch at Auzzio's in East Atlanta)

"She owe me plenty of shirts playa!" This was said in response to rumors that Tiff Edwards would not be in attendance at homecoming because of having dental surgery and fearing she would (jokingly) be drooling all over the place. When it was agreed that it would only be retribution for all the times she had been drooled over. The aforementioned quote was extemporaneously authored.

This is what was funny at 6:00am

2005-10-12T05:59:00.000-04:00

You wanna know what's funny? I'll tell you what's funny.

1. Watching fat people rock themselves out of a love seat to a standing position.
2. Having your father tell you to go wax the grass cause gas prices are too high.
3. An IBM commercial.
4. The score of the Morehouse vs. Tuskegee game
5. Wild n Out
6. The fact that Underclassman was released
7. Big Boi with a Black n Mild in Vanity Fair
8. The gay, deaf guy Geoff saw in a Dunkin Doughnuts doing flamboyant sign language.
9. The BET Comedy Awards, for once.
10 The fact that Jiggaman wasn't even mentioned at Hip-Hop Honors
11 An old man that snores so loud he wakes himself up
12 People who look just like their dogs
13 Any rag a woman wears to bed
14 My mom making me clean my room BEFORE the cleaning lady comes, "I don't want her to think you're sloppy!"
15 The fact that nothing in Alanis Morrisette's song was ironic at all
16 Rev. Brown from Coming 2 America
17 People with unibrows AND outtie bellybuttons
18 Demanding Pepsi in an Atlanta area restaurant
19 Bums who beat around the bush
20 DUBYA fumbling through English while Jebb is fluent in Spanish

Techy Sexy...a short musing

2005-09-27T20:50:00.000-04:00

There you go again, saying or doing those damn inescapably sexy things that you do. I think it is their effortlessness that makes them sexy. Further, perhaps it is the fact that they (the things you do, that is) are sexy that makes them so inescapable. But they are. Both. Almost equally. Inescapable and sexy.

See, I cannot even begin to imagine that you can cook, in fact I don’t think that you could even microwave well. I do not wrap myself around the idea that you would make a man a terrific housewife who would continually paint the picture of cleanliness either. To be quite honest, most of the traditional elements of marital bliss, like separating the laundry and putting aside the pants for the man to wear, would not only be an affront to your pesky independence but would most likely not ever cross your mind as necessary. A man who marries you shouldn’t expect to be correct all the time, or even often without challenge. He should not hope to suppress your professional tenacity for it would be futile. He may even wonder if he can talk you into slowing down at any point in the relationship so that you may conceive offspring. If I may make this assumption on his behalf, I’ll say that this is a point of curiosity at this very moment. I am sure.

However, with absolute certainty I can assure you of his willingness to forfeit these expectancies. You are “techy.” Which for him could cause insecurity, but he likes to be taught by you.

This is because he recognizes that you recognize the strength in his ability to admit what he doesn’t know, which attracts you to him. Oddly, it is what you know that attracts him to you. Are these opposites attracting or is it just that “two control freaks can’t lose control and get freaky?”

T-mobility

2005-09-21T10:11:00.000-04:00

Ah...I dunno. What do you need to know? Cause that is my job, you know? My job is to tell you what you need to know.

I am with T-Mobile now. I have been a SprintPCS customer since my sophomore year of college. I started out with a pharmeceutical company- provided Cingular (back when Nokia's were cool) and ran up a $1500 roaming charge-inflated phone bill, that I spent the better part of my first semester of Sophomore year repaying. Thanks American Cafe for that whopping $35 a night on weekdays! So I needed a new phone. Per their college representatives that flooded the campus, I signed my death certificate with Sprint. Sayno 3109-- the first of its kind, actually. Anyway, within months everyone I knew had a Sprint phone and less then a year after that calling any and everyone seemed free.

Well, that was well over five years ago and since then I have become the notoriously disconnected customer. Somehow my bill became well over $70.00 a month and I still ran over my minutes and exceeded a self-imposed spending limit. But since there are no rollover minutes, I would spend half of the month with 600 minutes that I couldn't use because I was $0.37 over my spending limit. Ridiculous, right?!? Well, never again. I am on the family plan. 10 bucks a month! That's right me, mi madre, y mi padre share minutos! And you will never, ever call me and not be able to reach me. Unless of course you don't have T-mobile. Then I will only be able to talk to you on weekends, and at night...after 9. Yeah, I know, I know. 9 is mad late. There had to be a downside didn't there?

Okay, two. I am back to the Nokia. Sue me, it was free! But I am saving and before you know it...ho ho...the Boisenberry... Blackberry whatever!

2005-09-13T00:45:00.000-04:00

The Eagles lost. I can't really remember if I like football or if I like the Eagles. My Pop-Pop took me to a game early on in life and he loved the Eagles. That was always my link to him. I can remember him being proud of me when I knew the names of Mike Quick and later Randall Cunningham, which is "negro" for sneaky pig. I know, I know. Anyway, having been in the A-town for so many years, and almost never taking a loss to the Falcons--I hated seeing this season start of this way.

I would like to take this opportunity to say hello to Rhett and Cara. Two of the downest actors I know. I mean so down that you wouldn't think they were actors, you know. They are really sorted and well postured. Not a lot of self-indulgence and weird prejudices. They are real people. Thank you guys for being friends, if only for a weekend.

Oh and I know you are gonna hate it, but whoever nominated Young Jeezy for Moses 2005 needs to be sitting next to the old FEMA director...in the unemployment office.

My thoughts explain me better than I can.

2005-09-08T21:43:00.000-04:00

What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies. -- Aristotle ( I let go of a love today, but more importantly, I got my friend back)

The thoughts in my head don't always travel through my mind in words. It is a funny kind of thing. I mean, I understand them and they understand me. I know I understand them, cause I never have to ask them to explain themselves. And I know they understand me cause they can explain me. So when I pick up the pen and try to explain them to you, I am always confused when it doesn't come out easily. Some people have to work to be writers, some have to work to be thinkers. I "think" I am the former. Anyway, here is my shot at trying to explain what my thoughts just explained to me: They said, "You don't spend enough time with your friends. Truth be told you aren't really a good friend. You have so much more to offer them than you do. You let your friends down, but you are witty and that is usually enough to pick them up. That is not enough. That is untrue. You are unfair." "I know" I said. But then they said what was most poignant. They said, "Every woman that comes into your life, is not for your romantic pursuit. Some cross your path just to be your friend. Even more will cross you path needing you to be their's." "Wow," I said. Finally, they said to me "You know everybody swears your black behind is going to make it--you need to go ahead and do it." "I will," I said. "I will."

Fyuns

2005-09-07T17:17:00.000-04:00

I went to a funeral today. I have been to quite a few in my lifetime, probably more funerals than baby showers, batchelor parties, and weddings. Not more than birthday parties, which are obviously a celebration of life. The first one I can really remember was my Pop-Pop. He and my grandmother had been "engaged" for like 41 years. So he was like my grandfather. The second was my great-grandmother who was 'bout 98 when she died. They say life is short, but really its not. It is great to go to a funeral where nobody is shaking their heads saying, "It wasn't his time" or "I wish she would have had the chance..." or "Owwwwwl, I didn't know he was married." Funerals are not a bad experience when they are marking a person's complete experience. It gives you something to look forward to almost. No crying at my joint, oh no. Meal at the church afterwards? Uh-uh, you can't have whiskey or mojitos at the church. I want a party and dancing. And make sure somebody calls all my friends. I don't want anybody to miss it. Make sure they go through my cell phone and my email contacts, okay?

2005-09-06T18:34:00.000-04:00

Living life in that fast lane that left lane that pass lane that careful don't crash lane might just get you arrested. The pathway's molested cause tested when too young now egg's on your face like Lee put in your Foo Yung. You wronged Him by not running it passed Him. You act like you asked Him when who are you to cast Him at all let alone aside when He is directing? Unless it's threatening what you're expecting as outcome or income. How come our schedules and calendars clear but when He sets a date we don't heed what we hear? Take heed and believe that you can be impeded for the Tower of Babel was never completed.

"...the soul is a barometer that measures the pressure of a life."

2005-09-06T18:23:00.000-04:00

Hello. I am just starting to get my “pen hands” back. That is kind of like being at sea for long and then getting your “land legs” back up under you. So I am taking it slow. I have had a great deal of thoughts. Formally, I would gloat in their loftiness. But that is not fun. Inside jokes are fun. Jokes nobody gets—not fun. It is a funny thing when you realize that you have to let your body slow down so that your soul can catch up. It moves slower, not because it is incapable of greater speed, but because it is well, more deliberate than your body. It isn’t in a rush to live its life, because it knows that it can live forever.

There is something raunchy about a person that exists apart from a connection with his soul. There is something lewd about one whose body is not aware of the consequence his soul will redeem once the body is no longer. I am not that person; and because I know that, you should as well.

The intrepid life is lived by he who would first understand his activity in life and then decisively impact souls within reach of this activity. You have to trust just how far he can reach by investing your soul in that which is long lasting. Before you know it, long lasting is forever.

A veces...(gracias Bilal)

2005-07-25T04:11:00.000-04:00

Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night
Twice
Sometimes going back to sleep doesn’t make quite as much sense as writing, awake
Sometimes you were dreaming about a bear that is chasing you in a small space cause it wants to eat you
Sometimes you can’t figure out who the woman in the dream is that keeps trying to hold you down until the bear can get to you.
Sometimes you feel bad about what you would have to do to get away from her too
Sometimes you wake yourself up so that you don’t have to
Sometimes waking yourself up from the dream in the middle of the night is the only way to stop the dreams that you can usually control
Sometimes you wake up more afraid than you went to sleep
Sometimes you get the bear and sometimes the bear gets you

Every now and then the pattern changes and your subconscious notices it
Twice
Every now and then you wake up in the middle of the night for the same reason
Twice
Every now and then a kid is born with reason and intuition beyond his own discerning
Every now and then the gift is too much
Every now and then the pressure is too strong

Often your mind is right
Twice
Often you ignore it
Twice
Often you give the credit to everything and everyone other than Who deserves it
Often is just enough to make you think it’s always
Often they even sound alike

Dear Summer Part III

2005-07-24T02:53:00.000-04:00

Saturday Morning, July 16th
After coming home from the club, I had to go all the way back to Harlem, pick up my bags then travel all the way back to where I would be laying my head. But it was okay, because all the while I was getting those phone calls. See, I am the type of guy that only wants phone calls for my birthday (well from most people anyway). I take birthdays seriously but I can’t always do for others what I would want to, and I understand them not being able to do the same. So all the way up to 4am, when I went to sleep, my phone was ringing…even to the point of interruption.

I went to sleep well.

Then it happened.

Walk and I call her Tammy the Temp. She is the white lady that answers my phone for me invariably when my bill isn’t paid, or when Sprint just decides to stick it to me when I need phone service the most. I had convinced Dave to take the China Town to China Town bus into New York to spend the weekend and make up some memories. So I woke up to call him and to check all of the missed calls and messages that I was sure I had….and guess who was answering my phone? You guessed it! Tammy the Temp! The jerks at Sprint had decided to cut me off. And do you know what a sprint store in Harlem looks like on a Saturday morning? Rhetorical. Let me tell you the line is longer than the lines at a soup kitchen in Kuwait.

On my birthday?!?!
NAW, NAW, NAW…

One thing that happens every year since I have been born is the phone call from my parents to sing happy birthday. Even when I lived in their home, they’d either call my private line or my cell phone, but the call always came. Who knows where it was this time. Perhaps up in the wavelengths with Mike Teevee’s body. (ref: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the original, I don’t know what the new one is about).

“So that’s how it is gonna start, huh?” I asked myself.

I go to breakfast, Amy Ruth’s. Harlem. One of the best breakfasts in the city. Some dude with a $65,000 bonus who was a friend of a friend picked up the whole (estimated $400) tab. Great. I am off to let some African lady play in my hair; tighten me up.

“How much?”
“How much you got?”
“$25”
“(Huff) aight give it to me.”
“I’ll be back…gotta go to the ATM.”

I get in her chair after bargaining her down to a measly $25 only to find out that she was going to use beeswax. I don’t put beeswax in my hair, it is like Velcro. It makes every dirt particle in the air stick to your head, it is nasty.

Back on the Yellow Brick Road. I find a Dominican shop, she asks for $30. Let’s do it. They are speaking serious Spanish. I got a good ear, bad tongue. But they are treating my head like a piñata. One mamichula picks up on the fact that I can understand what they are saying, and starts flirting in Spanish. Whoa Mami, too far.

By the time I got out of the chair, I am looking like a cross between Snoop (Shirley Temple my hair…) Shirley Temple, herself, and Horshack from “Welcome Back Kotter”.

I was crushed. Now I know how women feel when they leave the beauty salon and it didn’t come out the way they wanted it to. I will never make fun of a woman upset with her doo again.

Dave and Geoff en route to meet me in Harlem, where we are to be accompanied by a Harlem Harem to H&M. I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to flatiron my head. I am telling you this is the worst. I was really sick.

But it is my birthday, and I got too much magic for it to not get better. So it did.

There were two surprise dinners planned for me in the city, only one of which I was able to attend. Two of the coordinators, one female, one male, made a compromise. So of course I went with the female. (*THANKS TESS* ) That is some real superstar stuff huh? Like when Destiny’s Child didn’t show up to opening night of the Vision/Destiny’s Child Afterparty, or when Diddy is on a flyer for a party you know he won’t be at.

So I get draped in linen, like some curtains in your aunties sun room. I am talking well upholstered, top to bottom. Now granted she picked most of it out, but I wore it—well. No undershirt, all chest. Brown hard soles—remember? (shined by Bryant at Hartsfiled-Jackson International.)

Gypsy cab to the Blue Fin. Time Square. There was a spider on the menu, man. A spider. I chose the Chilean Sea Bass. If you are ever there, you should too. And get whatever wine Anica, the waitress/actress suggests because she was correct. Oh and get yourself a Grand Mariner as well. Heck, have three. Everything was beautiful. Upright bass, pianist tickling the ebony and ivories, phone calls to my father, incomings from my brothers, texts to people on the way, a lady that I don’t mind eating off my plate to my right and the feeling of complacency all around. After the rough and rocky start my day got off to, this was the perfect relaxing wind down.

And then (as Dave Calloway says) my side of the family showed up….

It felt so good to have my boys push their way through the pomp and circumstance, sangria still on their breaths, just in time to dive in front of the flashes of the digital cameras. Niggas. Niggas, you hear me? Real coons.

Anica the waitress, “How long are you all going to be here this evening?”
Swinney the Negro, “Until you run out of bottles, bring ‘em out, bring ‘em out!”
So at this point, I can definitely say that everyone had lost what little inhibition they’d come with. More than a buzz. Just then Tess, who had given me “the look” when I mentioned that I was going to another dinner elsewhere in the city produces an ice cream cake. Now granted, her girlfriend’s birthday was that following Monday and we were sharing a dinner, but she definitely had gotten two cakes—ice cream, my favorite, complete with my name.

I walked out into the middle of Time Square to stop a few cabs to put the girls in—nice gesture right? I suppose it would have been nicer if I had put some money and some directions in the cabby’s hand. But before I could (cause I was, really I was) I am summoned by Geoff, who is in good conversation with a limo driver.

You already know.

Now this pasty-faced young man must have been waiting to pick up Liza Minnelli or Carl Rove and had some time to kill and figured, I’ll cart the darkies around for an extra $____. So after some savvy bargaining (credit Geoff again) we head to the Boulevard in a stretch. Soundtrack by none other than Sean Corey Carter himself. Gilmore bringing in his birthday (Sunday) Geoff saying, “Have a good time but don’t drink or eat anything in here!” Me looking for a sunroof, but settling for a window, Swinney sprawled out on the floor…Dave under the whitest of white gauchos and everyone happy.

Hair? What hair? Phone off? When?

Didn’t really want to party with the AUC but it worked out well. Bunch of cats from high school, Jack n Jill, etc just happened to be at the club. Bottles, large ones, of Goose, some champagne (credit Geoff again). It was great, sorry to slight you on the details but they are fuzzy. I got pictures if you really want to see for yourself. But all you really need to know is that there were bottles, a lot of fine women, and a lot of fine linen (I had most of it on).

And just as we made sure that her friend (who had glass in her foot from taking off her shoes and dancing through the club) was in the good hands of Captain America (Dave Calloway) Tess and I made our exit. Thank you, you made me the King of New York for a whole weekend. I will never forget it.

To all those involved—
Tess..................Pluto
Danny Ocean…Me
Frank Catton….Geoff
Rusty Ryan…...DCall
Linus………….Swinney
Basher Tarr…...Ben Jones

And to the rest of Oceans 11: The NUPES
Pony………….Kat

Thank you for the best 24 birthday I have ever had.

Breakfast the next morning, shopping in SOHO.
“Glasses, glasses, glasses…
Glasses, glasses, glasses…” Mr. and Mrs. Bobby Brown

How to read Dear Summer/ Why Dear Summer?

2005-07-20T18:51:00.000-04:00

Hoping not to insult anyone's intelligence and just because I love a good gerund, I thought I should explain How to read Dear Summer. I just looked at the posts and figured that if you hadn't visited the site in a few days, you might just read it out of order. So, try this.

Read part I first geniuses.

Why Dear Summer?

Well chest bumps, high fives, AND at-a-boy's for whoever can figure it out.

Dear Summer Part II

2005-07-19T18:44:00.000-04:00

Friday, July 15th

Never went to sleep. Okay, I caught 15 minutes. Luckily Buhk brought me home and that saved me from having to walk to the MARTA that morning. Got to work early enough to finish up the costumes for the kid’s parent performance. Tired, and I have to play King Lion. The performance worked out well. Very well as a matter of fact, had parents coming up to me afterwards saying what a marvelous job I had done with their knuckleheads, and asking me if I had “done any theater”. King Lion, right on my resume!

Then it happened. A young boy, age 9 was seen by me running at full speed across the gymnasium room floor. Fists drawn, looking to connect with the light skinned canvas of another 9year old’s face. “Trey! Trey!” I yelled from across the gym. Of course Trey didn’t stop, and his would-be victim was not back peddling fast enough. As I ran towards them three thoughts went through my mind:
Why the hell doesn’t anybody else see this happening?
Why the hell won’t this kid stop back peddling and turn and run?
I am going to miss my doggone plane.

I ran track for five years (off and on). I got in between the two of them and immediately sent the prey to the office, knowing I needed to focus on the predator who was swinging wildly at anything in his way, me included. From there, I don’t know how it happened, but this kid went in a full out temper tantrum. I am talking Bernstein Bear style. Running away from me, making me chase him through the pool, trying to force the door of the locker room closed behind himself, screaming, kicking, slamming doors, ripping paper towel holders off the wall…going insane. Instinctively, I wanted to yolk this boy up. But I didn’t, and maybe he needed it, but who knows what kind of law his mother practices, or what kind of money she THINKS the program can afford to come up off of?

Anyway, his mom came up to the school with the whole, not my son kind of attitude and I spent the next hour talking to them. Missed my flight.
Rae drops me off at the MARTA station, only after depositing my check. Oh yeah, and please believe Bank of America will get their overdraft fees….early.

I arrive at the airport just in time to miss the flight I wanted to catch and to be told that after all the connecting I was going to have to do, I would make it to LAG until 9 or so. At this point I am tired. So I reach in my bag pull out my brown Brutini’s and go to the shoe shine man. His name is Bryant, black 63years old give or take. Grew up in University Homes, great guy. He liked me too. Get on plane, sleep through all the impending delays, beverage service, turbulence, and rocky landing.

“Thank you and welcome to LaGuardia…”
*Cue the obligatory Dipset Song*

Friday Night, July 15th
I have several places I can stay. Several friends, several prophytes. Funny how on the last night I was there, an AUC friend says to me, “George where are you staying? “ I responded, “Everywhere”. Now she was probably being a little more slick then inquisitive, but the answer was true nonetheless. (shout out, cause I know you’re reading…lol)

My first meeting ground was Harlem. Why? Well it is the closest to the airport, of course. I do this in my slumbers summer. Plus, who wouldn’t want to go to the club his first night in NY with a group of six to seven FINE behind females? Well, I didn’t. I really wanted to go to sleep. My dad said, “If you don’t go to sleep now, you will burn out your whole weekend.” Well, they convinced me otherwise, sorry dad. So I go put on some hard bottoms and keep it moving to the Gypsy Cab on the way to Sui a restaurant turned lounge, right a crossed from the Great Gatsby.

12:00am do you know where your children are. My parents did. It was my birthday and my mom said what she says EVERY year. “Well, Georgie, this time ___years ago I was trying to get you outta me. You know they had to cut me? You do know that your mother had a C-section don’t you?”

“Really Mom? Is that why I like to leave the house through the window instead of the door?” Bud-domp-domp-chhhhsssssshhh!

Dear Summer part I

2005-07-18T18:40:00.000-04:00

Captain’s log: 42-7R…”This may be my last entry.”

You have heard me say be responsible for the story, but sometimes people don’t need to know. I am sure I will resurface in a few months or so in a different city, with a different url, and many, many more stories. But I think that my boxers have been briefed and need to be hung out to dry. With that, I will leave you with a fitting swan song, one you can tell your women and children, family and friends, Jew and Gentiles that you lived vicariously.

And oh yeah, this entry is LONG. So if you are reading it at work, keep some other windows open, hit me up during lunch, or just wait till you get home. But don’t wait too long because this blog will self-destruct in a matter of weeks, copy and paste what you can

Thursday, July 14th
I picked up my paycheck from Spelman, thinking that I may not have the time to do so prior to my departure flight. The ticket having been purchased only hours earlier (the wee hours that is) I hadn’t had a lot of time to prepare. You know, pedicure, re-twist, cleaners, etc. See the ticket was a bit of a surprise and bunch of a blessing. (Thank you)
The office of the payroll was being managed by a slick-talking store front preacher looking guy who advised me, “(Not to) deposit this thang before Friday.” Duly noted.

“Grandmom put a little something in your account today for your birthday, make sure you call her and thank her,” said Mom. Nice. Decided to treat myself to a line up and wait till I got to Nueva York to get my wig twisted.

I run out to the airport to check on the possibility of changing my flight time to later on the in the afternoon. See part and parcel to receiving a ticket (gratis) was not having so much say in my departure time, or in my ridiculously unnecessary connection flights.

“$25?!? That’s it? That is ALL it is going to cost to change the flight time?” Nice.
So I began my birthday celebration with one of my all time favorite activities, an activity that many people have no idea that I enjoy: sitting in the airport, people watching.

Thursday Night, July 14th
That night, Benny, Erin, Buhk, Calvin and myself went to the Leopard Lounge—free all night on Thursday. Since I was going out of town the next morning, I thought I could round up all my Atlanta friends and celebrate. Now, I know you are thinking, “He only has 4 friends in Atlanta?” Well, no. I have six. But it was really just some poor planning. One of my neophytes (look it up) was celebrating his birthday at a completely different club on the exact same night and had already invited our overlapping ellipsis of friends to join him. This sucked. See, he was having a surprise party thrown for him on Saturday, July 16th (please read the title of the previous entry to see why this was such a huge issue for the indefatigably selfish me) So he was commandeering attention on two separate nights, unbeknownst to him.

Rae couldn’t make it, but Danielle, one of her fellow Hawks Dance Team members was bartending and my line brother, Josh, was Dee Jaying. Worked out quite nicely. Danielle was making drinks and leaning across the bar demanding kisses, Josh was screaming my name on the mic and everyone in their seemed to be anxious to buy me a drink. (Though I did pass most of them off to friends who DIDN’T have to work in the morning and who DIDN’T have to pack)

*wish I could tell you what happened after the club, but the events are too strange, too detailed, too incriminating, and Tu Wong Fu for you and Julie Newmar.)

don't change that cache...

Four Women

2005-07-13T19:22:00.000-04:00

There was this woman, well IS this woman. She is still very much alive and has a great posterior. Yeah I know, here he goes again talking about women. Well I am a man...a straight man...currently residing in a city where the preponderance of the tourism dollar comes during the citys annual Gay Pride Weekend. It makes sense.

So the woman. I met her when I was in undergrad. I didn't go to grad school, hope that wasn't misleading. Anyway, I met her after being accepted into a clandestine organization. My affiliation prohibited me from persuing her, you know the whole brotherly love thing. Which, after finding out (recently) (well I knew a long time ago) that one of my (that sounds so possesive doesn't it) ex's had an affair with one of my brothers, shouldn't have prevented me from pursuit of her. Anyway, what is funny is that my attraction towards her began while I had a girlfriend. Well, THE girlfriend. The one that blinded me towards every other female in the world. (a great thing).

So as my attraction (supressed and unfounded as it was) grew, I became more and more curious about who this woman was. I think that is the main thing that I was attracted to. She had an amazing body, good earning potential, and was great conversation, but I knew none of this at the time. It was her aloofness and overall unattainability (I don't care if it isn't a real word or not) that attracted me. She was older and "cool" as far as the nefarious in-crowd would dictate and I was on the rise as my subsequent undergraduate career would prove.

So years later, we bumped into each other at one of the calendar events that brings "oldheads" back to town and exchanged numbers. Her intention: (I assume) to get some juice from a young boul (read:boy), nothing more I am sure. My intention: (I assume) to find out all that I had been curious about. We hit it off, slowly. Yes, its' possible. But all the while the clandestine nature of our relationship (if that's what it was) tempered our conversation. I am sure she was dealing with more than she shared and I--I--well...you know. Anyway, recently we had FULL disclsosure and things changed.

They say honesty is the best policy, but sometimes people get more than they can handle, often unneccesarily. Sometimes what you don't know can't hurt you...in the short run anyway. It isn't the same. The place that we held for each other, is gone and will never come back. Sure we can recreate a new place, but where will it be?

Another woman. Best conversation I ever had in my life. The first 30x. Everyone else got in the way. In more ways than one. Saw her recently, and the magic was stuffed into a single interrogative: "So what's our deal?" When she asks you that, she doesn't believe in the magic anymore, and her subconcious is screaming to you in a frantic soprano.

Yet another, told me that she used to call me and try and recover what we had. And that she recently discovered that it was only because that was what she needed for that brief period of time. Role reversal? No. She said that I had done the same. And that it was okay. Then for the first time ever, she told me she had to go...HE was calling. Wow.

The last: We used to kick it...hard. Often. Sing, go to movies, act a fool in supermarkets. We really got each other. She wanted fame and so did I. We promised that whoever made it first would put the other one on. I was older than she was. Am still older, assuming she is still alive. Because she doesn't answer my phone calls anymore. But I stil call, often. Once a month. That is often for someone who doesn't EVER answer your phone calls. I want her to be woman enough to tell me. Yeah normally I would say, "I think its pretty clear" but we were SO tight that I can't fathom the idea that she is okay, healthy, hell concious somewhere and hasn't thought about me. Just friends, but isn't that more important. I have done it before, for various reasons. I thank God that those people (yeah it has happened a lot) kept calling. Its the least I owe.

Aight, just felt like rambling. Don't take it personally. Some, most, or none might be true.

Oh and Leigh, you are an angel. Don't ever get tired of me saying that, cause you need to hear it more.

My birthday is July 16....Saturday

2005-07-10T14:49:00.000-04:00

This is going to be a big week. I have some pretty crucial decisions to make, a lot of which I have been mentally preparing for for quite some time. The date is July 22nd--give or take a few days. That is my scheduled departure from Atlanta. Not a big deal to you, but definitely a big deal to me.

Some say Atlanta....

I am leaving behind a lot. Purposefully. This includes but is not limited to the futon I am sitting on right now. Seeing as I will probably be unable to sell it (feel free to leave a comment and make me an offer) I will probably toss it. Along with the entertainment center and my fish...Sleep-N-Eat. I am also leaving behind, habits, customs, MARTA tokens, familiarity.

See, I am from "Uptop", New Jersey specifically. And I haven't been home for any extended period of time in about five years. So it is going to be very different. I am going home to stay with my folks for about two weeks.

Some say New York...
Got an email from NYU earlier this week. Suggested list of classes that I should take over the course of this year to better my chances during my (re) application process next year along with the permission of using a couple of big names, one of whom said she would call ahead for me. Resume finished, just waiting on a letter of rec from my boss who owns THE public relations firm in ATL. Yes, I am parlaying her connects into a job in New York...

Turned down an opportunity to teach drama in Palm Beach, nothing there for me.
My homeboy turned down acceptance to law school in Texas, nothing for him there.
What's the plan you ask?

I just told you.

Love ain't Logic

2005-06-25T16:32:00.000-04:00

Seems So Long by Stevie Wonder

Lady love and lady cared but lady went away,
And left me all alone to suffer.
And now I feel it's not fair for me to fall in love
The truth is the real me you must uncover.

Seems so long, since I've heard the sound
It's been so long, since I've trusted in someone else,
Had to see it all for myself,
It's been so long, that the world seems cold,
But I think it's time in my life to find myself again.

Lady loved and lady stayed,
Until she was too pleased
She knew I wouldn't leave for her to suffer.
I'd never make her suffer.
Now I believe you're just like me,
In that you understand,
And want me for your man to always love me.

You can believe it's seems so long, since I've touched a wanting hand
Oh, it seems so long, since I've trusted in someone else,
Had to see this world for myself,
And it's been so long that the world seems cold,
Now I think I've found someone to make me trust in someone again.
I believe that I can trust in you.

(2nd progression)

If you really love me, won't you tell me
(If you really love me)
And if you really love me, won't you tell me
Then I won't have to be hangin' around

You call my name, ooh so sweet
To make your kiss incomplete
When your mood is clear you quickly change your ways

Then you say I'm untrue
What am I supposed to do
Be a fool who sits alone waiting for you

I see the light of your smile
Calling me all the while
You are saying baby, it's time to go
First the feeling's all right
Then it's gone from sight
So I'm taking out this time to say

If you really love me, won't you tell me
And if you really love me, won't you tell me
Then I won't have to be hangin' around

(3rd progression)

Never Dreamed You'd Leave in Summer by Stevie Wonder

I never dreamed you'd leave in summer
I thought you would go then come back home
I thought the cold would leave by summer
But my quiet nights will be spent alone

You said there would be warm love in springtime
That was when you started to be cold
I never dreamed you'd leave in summer
But now I find myself all alone

You said then you'd be the life in autumn
Said you'd be the one to see the way
I never dreamed you'd leave in summer
But now I find my love has gone away

Why didn't you stay?

...the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

2005-06-24T21:37:00.000-04:00

Broke, of course. Nothing new. Just enough for the MARTA, on the way to one of two jobs that day. I was to teach the kids, then write some bios, answer some phones, book some interviews...

Didn't have to take the MARTA--that would be lunch money. Had Rae's car, she was in Paris. Missed that trip by the sleeve of my passport. Whippin. That means I can sleep 40minutes longer. It's a mile and a half to and from the station. 19minute walk, if I'd had a decent breakfast, 20minute train ride if they don't decide the train I am on needs to be serviced at 5points, 13minute walk if there is no funeral procession through the crosswalk by Gutbusters, or women with Watchtowers, or alternate sidewalk routes choosen to avoid well fed pigeons.

But none of this had anything to do with my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

Woke up. 6 missed calls. Check voicemail. Phone off. Voicemails just floating in space till she gets her money. Drive to work. Gas light. On. Before now conveniently unnoticed. No cash, just MARTA/lunch money. Pay day tomorrow.

Parked car. Asked about paycheck. Not till the 30th. 16 days. Two weeks. Now that is funny.

Taught class. Took lunch. Ask guards, want lunch? No thanks. Good, just wanted you to see the car. No special treatment, just let me drive back on campus after lunch. Got acknowleged. After lunch, in class. Teaching. Counselors arrive. Rae's car is towed.

Officers who didn't want lunch laughed. How much? Bout $95, here's the number.
Where are they located? NOT on the MARTA line. Of course. Proof of ownership? I don't own it. Ask the owner, she's in Paris.

Now that might not seem like enough to equate to what is typically referred to as a terrible...but, note:
1 I waited 5days to write this much
2 I didn't even scratch the surface
3 This day was the day that broke the camel's back or put the straw in the needlestack...or something
4 I cried and admitted to God that maybe, just maybe "it" was too much and that I know I am probably just at the beginning and "it" will probably get much harder

* I left Piney Grove on Sunday to go to Mt. Moriah cause Piney Grove only had room in the overflow section and no sound. When I went to Mt. Moriah, the pastor was "freestyling" in the pulpit and couldn't catch the beat. So shortly after he began and just before he abruptly sat down claiming that he had lost his voice (true story) I managed to refamiliarize myself with Job.

It ain't never as bad as you think it is.
But it really sucked while it was happening.

-Alexander

2005-06-19T18:42:00.000-04:00

Jordan Carlos: "You probably think Euthenasia is a community outreach organization for underpriviledged Korean kids."

hilarious, this kid is really gonna make it.

2005-06-09T13:53:00.000-04:00

5 things you like about me?
5 things you do not?
"Now everybody say 'Go!'"

Uncles Tom & Sam

2005-06-07T13:52:00.000-04:00

I’ve observed young white boys
who play in do rags
while young black boys work just to brag
bout buying those new jags and spinning rims
this wheel of fortune is winning them
a new Uncle Sam
whose nephews
don’t know who their fathers am
but are well aware of who their Uncle Tom’s are

See Uncle Sam and Uncle Tom are brothers
from the same orphanage
and while these orphaned kids
would often wish that they would not have had to meet
one child was there to greet the other’s forced arrival
and you know just like I do
that this new American Tail has no Fieval
and that street survival does not guaranteed you’ll find cheese
cause there are cats in America
It’s this mass hysteria that leads the chase for pussy
potential plummets as young rookies chase cookies
in Big Apples or “Big Easies”
Or Chicago, LA, Atlanta, Philly, or Detroit they all can avoid the constant complaints children annoyed with their parent country convey
But one day these children grow up
Unwilling to share their talents with neglectful parents
Aunts and Uncle Sam’s
Who have loved their children way below average

Quote: "My first time cursing in an entry.

2005-05-31T21:20:00.000-04:00

The crowd begins to launch their frantic, ridiculously ineffective missle of frustration and disgust crying, " BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT, BULLSHIT!"

Adding color to the telecast, Doug Collins, the color man with the fairest skin in all the land says,"...and the crowd replies with their familar chant of 'We beg to differ' " .

No point, I just thought it was funny.

"I am glad you found happiness in love, a lot of people find one without the other." I wrote that. Just now. I tend to do as Mr. Hallmark insists and quote other people. I was remarking to my business partner the other day that conversation has escalated from a series of cliches and colloquilisms to ringtone hooks and product endorsements. The things we say. No more quotes from tired old Locke and Engels. Nah, enough of that jaw-jacking Mandela. Can you hear me now? Cause we're everywhere, you ain't never there.

Swinney, I miss you man.

Yeah, we're the Martha Stewarts that are far from Jewish. (Had to go a little too far, didn't I?) Isn't going to far exactly enough. Like this new IBM commercial:

A little asian girl in a beautifully royal blue kimono walks up to an older African American gentleman seated at a desk in that Ordinary People video/car commercial empty, white, blank, voidness. She begins to ask him about blue elephants and other galaxies and all kinds of "I would go straight to the internet if I had to answer that" kinds of questions. He gives some witty retort that implies that she should look in the classroom and she says "I can't go to school, I live on a farm all the way in China. The classroom is too far." His reply? "Something to the effect of, "Don't worry about it, we're virtual."

When she said, "I can't go to school, I live on a farm all the way in China." I thought, too far.
But in the end it really wasn't. It was exactly far enough.

Anyway, my point: I am going to start quoting myself. ( I was interrupted while writing this enty. Scar had written a song. III, the guitar. The song. One of those kinds of songs that makes you remember what it was and just why it felt so good. Sorry for the tangent. ) But now that I am back, I don't really want to go through the whole explanation in my head. It's mine, my explanation and I can be stingy with it if I choose to. I set you up on a steep incline and then let you fall off a sharp cliffhanger, like when the white guy in the three piece explained the whole plotline of all three Matrices. Sorry.

End quote."

Anonymous Comments

2005-05-26T14:32:00.000-04:00

I post regularly about my life. Let the whole world wide web see ME! And you people think it is okay to respond from behind the shelter of anonymity? I did not create this page to allow others to simply evaluate and critique me without responsibility for their summation. Own up to it. I will give you another chance, perchance a week, to start identifying yourselves. After that time I will simply disallow anonymous postings on my page. Simple as that. (Wo)Man up.

Wishy Washy

2005-05-24T17:02:00.000-04:00

Everybody is doing it nowadays. Even in the last couple of weeks as I talk to old flames, or good flint, they all are on the same line of thinking. I don't know if it is because I happen to have always dealt with older women, or whether or not my peer group is really getting older. I hear my mans say-in normal conversation-"I was like the oldest kid there..." We still feel like kids. We still feel like the young ones. But there are young ones below us, pushing us up into adulthood.

There is a place that I think I have come to that doesn't neccesarily require partnership, but it is desirest of it. I am rather. I am ready for a partner, someone to defend, someone to defend me. Someone to see me let my guard down. Someone to keep me from looking for what I won't find. So that maybe I can focus on other things. We'll see...

Maybe not.

What will they think of next?

2005-05-19T15:51:00.000-04:00

I think they are called gauchos. Something like that. They are flimsy, unpredictable, arbitrary at times, and almost always attractive. Made from some kind of space-aged polymer, these new fashion phenomenal pants are all the rage in the female community. Why? Because they are the pants you don't really have to work out to play in! You slide on in them and in the blink of an eye and the aid of a three way mirror...instant booty! They are great. Check em' out at www.Nordstrom.com

Unfortunately they have the potential to be like THE stripey shirt. You know the one I am talking about. The big color, big cuff shirt with a million lines and colors in it, that made even the most reckless dude look like a model. Accept when he decides to put them on with flip flops and his feet look like he has been walking on the tops of them.

Then these shirts got out of hand. Damn near get dizzy waiting in line at the club nowadays. Gentlemen, they were last summer, early last summer. Early. But hey if you are going to wear them you might as well put on a pair of Durango's also.

Women be careful, as tempting as they are don't fall into the trap. Wear them as much as you can, until the threads start to tear. We men love them. But make sure to get the real ones, not the ones they selling on the corner on Canal St. Pay the extra $35, the men will appreciate you for it! Long live the Gauchos--death to THE Stripey Shirt!

RAE-TL AUDITIONS FOR THE HAWKS

2005-05-18T15:03:00.000-04:00

My friend Rae, choreographer extraodinaire is auditioning for the Atlanta Hawks dance team and has made it to the final round...on her own. Now she needs your help.

Go here Rae can really Dance!

Voting is open until Saturday!
You can vote every day! You should!

2005-05-17T19:09:00.000-04:00

No, I am not ready to talk about the show yet. I want to be able to give you a clear review of the entire weekend's events. I want to be able to thank the neccessary people involved for all that they did above and beyond the duties of friendship, brotherhood, parenthood, partnership, etc. But I need more time than I have for that. I want to be able to tell you how good it really was, honestly.

But I will thank God for the things He has done.

I am not moved by this new generation that thinks they can jump into any industry. So many new industries to do it in though. You can take the road less traveled. I think I have made mention of this before. But it is really a parallel path. This new "jeneration" of fashionable people are very similar to the backdoor actors. You know, those that have spawned the release of reality television shows? And I feel you, if they let you do it, do it. But how does it impact the game?

Fashion is at the place where people can throw on any color at any time, with any print, and any pocket square. They can wear any shoes, with any purse, with any lipstick, and one earring. And it is called style. It is called adventurous.

Why isn't it called lazy?
You have to wear it like you mean it, even if it is a remix.

Six Days Left

2005-05-09T00:52:00.000-04:00

I am exhausted. It seems like no matter how much sleep I get (which hasn't been much) I am still tired. I am comfortable with the show. Though that has been the only thing really on my mind, I have another thought this evening.

It is no secret (to those that have been around me in recent months) that many of these characters that I am portraying embody aspects of my personality. Each of the five characters that take stage have a mutated set of characteristics that are based (more than loosely) on myself, or people I know very well. In the past few months I have gotten to know them in a way that I haven't gotten to know people that I have known for longer periods of time. It has caused an examination of mountainous porportion. Self examination that is.

Any1Man

Bishop-homeless man. The kind of individual that we could all have been. The kind of person that we all still could become. Just one or two bad credit issues away.
I can relate.

Wesley-an artist. Like with many artists, his journey to become comfortable both within his art and with his art, itself, is just as engaging as the work he creates. Along the way he loses many friends. These "friends" question him to the point where he begins to question himself.
I can relate.

Man-Tan-an anomoly, one who believes that his dreams are the blueprints for what his mind wants his body to build for itself in this world. He is limitless.
I can relate.

Miles-a boy, trying to become a man in the face of the many less than desireable templates of manhood set before him. He is forced to decide if he wants to grow into "manhood".
I can relate.

But today, Adam is so close to my heart that I have difficulty expressing it. His tag: "I never would have fallen in love, if I didn't think you would be there to catch me." And as I said, all of the characters have aspects of me in them. But Adam is so real to me today. I have been walking around trying different voices on people, personalities on waitresses, etc, but Adam is always present. He never leaves my conscious. Adam is looking for an Eve, an Eve that will help him return to a garden where he can foster his creativity, protect the promise of fruition, and rub his feet.

Come see the show. Saturday. Dress nicely. Listen closely. Maybe we can discover some things together.

Oh--and Eve? If you're in the audience, please do not leave before I get the chance to introduce you to Adam. He's a good man.

It's been a long time, I shouldn't have left you

2005-05-04T22:37:00.000-04:00

Tickets can be purchased at www.rialtocenter.org/buytickets/index.html
That is the main thing happening right now. Sorry I have been gone so long.

I have been sleeping irregularly. Benny says its because "All five of them dudes in your head each need some sleep."

Makes sense.

And in the midst of all this, I was really dissapointed by a woman that I invested alot in.

Makes for a great show!

Any1Man. debuts at the Rialto in Atlanta

2005-04-14T12:18:00.000-04:00

“Out of the mind of one man comes the soul of every man as seen through the eyes of any man.” On Saturday, May 14, 2005 the art of one man performance is revived by the engineers of Privileged, Incorporated. Any1Man, an original performance presented by the partners of Privileged and starring George A. Peters, II (20th century fox’s drumline, the black family channel’s “Souled Out”), brings to light the internal conflicts experienced by five men, each of whom are consumed by their dreams yet distracted by their lives.

Written, performed, and produced by Morehouse and Spelman College alumni, Any1Man is indicative of the continuing evolution of African-American Artistic expression. Its spirit and construction exemplifies the African-American tradition, as it uses existing resources to expand the scope of societal dialogue and bring back humanity to society.

“While social scientists the world over theorize about the meaning and existence of manhood, it should always be remembered that manhood as a social construct is just that, a construct,” says Brandon Fontenot Johnson, one of the managing partners of TheSpidersQuill.com.

“It is indeed a great pleasure to be in support of and to be a fan of this great performance. It is one of the rare opportunities for the public to see and hear the multiple faces of men of African decent,” said Dwayne Crawford, Chief Operating Officer of 100 Black Men of America, Inc.

Taking snapshots of the lives of five uniquely different men and bringing them together in one discussion of “manhood,” this energetic performance exhibits each character’s quest to understand and accept their relationships with the women in their lives. Blending realism, poetic language, fantasy and conviction, Any1Man is a truly original and entertaining performance.

The Rialto Theater in Atlanta is the first stop of what will be a national tour of the production. Destined to be an intergenerational classic, you won’t want to miss the debut of Any1Man. Beginning May 2, 2005 you can get your advance tickets by calling the Rialto Theater Box Office at 404-651-4727.

I didn't get in...but they won't keep me out

2005-04-10T13:41:00.000-04:00

I trusted it all the way, either way.

Joe said, “I’m really proud of you man.” That is what matters to me the most.

I didn’t get in. I found out via voicemail. For all I know my roommates have a copy of my rejection letter blown up and placed prominently in their rooms. I don’t seem to get any of my mail except for the bills in my name.

Ms. Janet, a woman who had been exceptionally pleasant and helpful called and left me a voicemail, last Friday, April 1, 2005. At no point did I ever think it was a joke. However, that is why I waited to tell you all. I figure if I had told people on April 1st nobody would have believed me.

The message was amazing. She told me that, while I was still in town, she had attempted to convey to me the idea that I probably would not be getting in. I took something completely different from her conversation. The special attention I received, the asides that were made, and the affection I was given was more because I was liked as a person, not as an actor. My misunderstanding.

She explained that she believed I was an amazing talent and beseeched me not to allow the program's decision to not admit me affect any of the “truly remarkable conquests my charisma and RAW talent would surely breed over the course of what should be a rewarding year for (me)”.

Cool. So I wasn’t right for your program.
Cool. I got a program of my own.

What’s so comfortable about the whole thing is that despite the fact that I wasn’t admitted, my prayers were answered. I NEVER asked God to let me get in school. I prayed that His will be done—and it was. I am more than satisfied. In fact I am anxious; I can’t wait to see what He has in store next. It has got to be something better.

MAY 14TH... the Rialto... Any1Man... TheSpidersquill.com

2005-03-31T12:24:00.000-05:00

I color...
I march...
I think...

outside the lines,
to a different beat,
outside of the box,

because.

And another thing...

2005-03-30T15:52:00.000-05:00

If your voicemail, on any one (too many) of your phones contains the line:

"Currently, I am not available right now..." or any derrivation of it, change it immediately. Change it before anyone else calls and realizes how truly inept you are at composing and recording your own outgoing messages.

...more to come soon...there's a lot going on.

"What's in the Daily News?"

2005-03-28T07:21:00.000-05:00

That was the opening line of a song that Steve Murphy and I sang in high school. He was Nicely Nicely Johnson and I was Benny Southstreet. The musical was 'Guys & Dolls'.

Now back to your regularly scheduled blogging.

The News in Atlanta sucks. In fact, the news anywhere except Philly sucks. Apologies to all the turnpikers. Don't get me wrong, I still claim the Garden as my state, but Voorhees news definitely comes from the otherside of the Delaware.

I don’t really watch local Atlanta news, for some reason much of it is insignificant.
Think about it, if it is IMPORTANT enough it would make CNN, I mean headquarters is in Atlanta anyway…so they cover Metro Atlanta. Here, there are a lot of reading mistakes and the anchor persons are very unfamiliar and dress poorly. This woman on now is wearing a black blazer with orange (why?) lapels and with the absence of eyebrows looks very much like a real life Jack-O-Lantern.

Tangent: I just heard them say Zebulon. That is the kind of information I get from the local news. I find out that friends and aquaintances I have had from college, who were born and raised here have been named after obscure rural towns in Southern Georgia. (though I am sure the obscure rural town in Southern Georgia was named after an obscure town in the Bible)

Jim Gardner, Lisa Thomas Laury, Dave Roberts, Monica Malpass, Phil Andrews, etc.-- its been the same people since I was like 6. That’s great service. I mean think about it, you want the same doctor, right? The same cat cutting your hair? The same bank tellar would be pretty tight too, huh? Why wouldn't you want the same news anchor? I believe what the folks at Action News have to say.

Every station says they have the newest, most improved weather/traffic Doppler/RADAR instacam, thing-a-magigies...but somehow we always end up stuck in traffic, struggling to get home (through Atlanta's SIX LANES OF TRAFFIC) only to watch the news coverage of the traffic that we were just in.

There is no KYW-News Radio...1060 (that's the jingle). At home, KYW is a 24 news radio station, 1060 on your AM dial. "You give us 20 minutes, we'll give you the world." I can hear the voice now--it's the same one it has always been.

Atlanta, come on. Catch up with Philly, at least.

Me, personally...

2005-03-25T13:53:00.000-05:00

I hate that intro. Why would you say "Me, personally"? As opposed to what? What is the other option for you (me) but to be personal. Anyway:

Today is a beautiful day. I am in Atlanta, Georgia, and on the heels of my last post, I have decided to temporarily abandon anonymity. There is a lot going on. After speaking with the first George, I realized that I have a responsibility to the story; to the story. I am a steward of this story, this life. I have decided to tell my story. My life is very interesting and I don't think it is because God wants to keep me from being bored. I think that my story is exemplary and as such I have to share it honestly. At least until it totally backfires on me. But as friends of mine, or frequent readers, or even acquaintances significant enough to be potentially slandered for your indiscretions and failure to appreciate that you may end up in print, you should ALL recognize that you may appear in some form or fashion in a manner that is much less than anonymous. This is not to say that I am going to disclose real names and real events (I have another blog for that). This is to say that I am telling my story. Win, lose, or draw. I owe it to Him. I owe it to you. I owe it to me. And I have too much debt, not to be giving people what is owed.

*exhale*

So what do you want to know? Lot to catch you up on. It is Easter weekend, and I could have gone home, but I really couldn't afford it. I did not want the folks sporting this one either, they have done more than what is required as parents. It is time. I miss Nikki, Kristen, Meeka, Jess (even though she couldn't cook). Every year throughout college, we would ALL get up go to church and all the girls would cook Easter dinner. It'd be me, Larry, Calvin, Paul, Monty, and everyone else took turns subbing in and out. Just the family, but it was always great. Nikki could burn. Undoubtedly, the fellas would bring liquor: leftover, open bottles from the crib since you can't even buy rubbing alcohol on Sundays here and everyone would drink and be merry. Don't know what I am going to do this Sunday, probably going to try and sneak out to Blakk's house, his momma can throw down. Made chittlins one Thanksgiving just for me.

Hey feel free to ask questions. I don't know what else you feel like you need to know.

Delay is not Denial

2005-03-23T10:47:00.000-05:00

Kevin found out on Thursday--he's in. Rena & Gretchen soon thereafter--both of them...in. Steph called me last nite. She got a call at 9:45am--in. And either nobody else knows, or mum's the word.

I know it has been a while since I have been on here, but honestly, I haven't had anything to blog about. I tend not to want to see myself blog about the same thing over and over and over...you get the point. But, really, it is all that has been on my mind. All of my friends (God bless all of you) keep calling, emailing, pony expressing their concern and support, and CURIOUSITY, but I have nothing to give them.

I can tell you this, creatively, artistically, it was one of the greatest experiences I have ever had. The department chair Ms. Zelda Fichandler, emphasizes child's play, explaining that pure child's play is the ultimate stage of exploration and most sincere form of expression. So we played games like "Da-Da Karate" where we were challenged to make up karate moves with the most awkward parts of our bodies (chin, shin, booty,etc) partnered up to mimick someone we had never met before. Games like these released all pretense and allowed for high levels of comfort.

I realized that I had not been trained as well as the rest of the company, for the most part. But I became aware of instincts that I possess that are unlike any other. And that is the debate. I was told (in confidance--now its on the web) that they "really, really, really, liked me...but that my enrollment was contingent upon the level of the rest of the class." In other words, you are a baller man, but we just have to make sure you can play with this team...we're running the triangle offense."

Well, why do you think I want to come to school? Where else would I learn the triangle? Playing pick up games like I have been? Ah well. I have faith that the decision God makes, will be in my best interest. They told stories about a dude that auditioned 6x before he got in. Well, I don't have any intentions of auditioning 6x, but if I don't get it...I WILL BE BACK NEXT YEAR. I am no quitter. I will get in. Hell, they said it knocks 10 years "off your hustle," said the only black student that spoke to us. So I can at least try once more right? What's two years?

But on the strength, I still think I am going to get in. I will keep you "posted".
If Jesus is your homeboy...tell Him I really, really want it!

Oh and this is Company A, the group I auditioned with. There were three other groups just like ours...down to the demographic.

New York University's Tisch School of Fine Arts Graduate Acting , 5th Floor

During the tour, I got caught up in the magnitude of one of the stages

Touring Washington Sq Park

Rhett (favor's Belushi, huh?) cool dude and me...

2005-03-17T16:09:00.000-05:00

Have you ever remembered something that you had truly forgotten? I mean something that you really had no recollection of? Well, that happened to me today. Today, I remembered my phone bill was due. Funny cause I am hoping for a phone call of great importance tomorrow, that would be something to find out that my phone was off, huh?

I really want it

2005-03-13T23:21:00.000-05:00

I cannot remember the last time I have wanted something this badly. I hope that He has it for me. I really do. Man...

Finding Neverland

2005-03-08T13:56:00.000-05:00

So today I realized that despite the fact that I have yet to grow up, I am a grown up. I was reading an article in Time mag about a group of people referred to as the "twixters". You know the baby boomers, generation-X, the echo generation, etc? Well, the twixters are those that are betwixt adolescence and adulthood. They stay in college anywhere from 5-10 years and change meaningless jobs frequently, in a search for the right one. At article's end, most of them had not found it and had no promise of doing so.

Yeah, I was in that jawn for my 4 1/2, 5 if you ask most people. Yeah I have bounced around from so-called meaningless job to meaningless job. But, I have my future in hand. I have bounced around because I know what I don't want to do. The way I figure it is, if I get a nice cushy $65,000 gig and some benefits complacency will surely set in. I will start paying bills ontime, repaying debts, getting regular pedicures, hell maybe even rent a car every once in a week. I don't need that. I need the struggle. I need it to be my motivation. The way I see it, the "twixters" are patiently waiting for a track to explode on. They have been in the cipher, they are on all your favorite mixtapes, they just haven't finished their project yet. That album coming soon though!

Today, as I wake up on the couch of a friend who didn't want to leave for his Spring Break trip to South Beach until his personal statement was finished (for which my services were retained) I realize that I don't have a spring break. This, amidst the realization that I don't have a steady gig. Yeah I work--alot. But, well you know. I won't be going out of town with the millions of other collegiate alcoholics to try and get some beads, a girls gone wild tee shirt, or MTV crowd time. I won't be on the corner of Ocean and 11th throwing back "wet willy's". I won't be throwing the frisbee in the white sands of Cozumel, nor will I be singing "If they could see me now" with Kathy Lee Gifford.

But I will be in New York, at Tisch's School for the Fine Arts trying to make this thing happen.

--No longer a twixter

Quote of the Week

2005-03-06T19:31:00.000-05:00

Tricky from Under the Cherry Moon"I don't want to marry a stupid girl, you'll have stupid kids. Don't believe me? Follow a stupid kid home and see if someone stupid don't answer the door."

Scallywag

2005-03-06T01:22:00.004-05:00

For those that are interested, my audition takes place at the end of this week. I am feeling pretty confidant about it, but am admittedly (at this point) underprepared. I will be though. I definitely will be. If Jesus is your homeboy, try to mention it to him. I can use your prayers.

My driftwood

2005-03-03T11:28:00.000-05:00

The thoughts expressed in the following entry may unintentionally mirror actual persons, places, or events but are not intended to single out or offend in any way. I am a writer. I write for Pete's sake. Think Harper in Malcom Lee's "The Best Man". Don't be so self-indulgent.

This is my last entry about it. I am so sincere. Really, I mean this from the bottom of my arrow- pierced heart. But, I don’t want to insult your intelligence. It is foolish for me to think that you will accept the fact that I am not thinking about her anymore. Oh no, that won’t stop anytime soon. I mean let us just be honest. But what will stop is my constant rambling. That’s right! Consider this confessional, replete with Hail Mary’s and Our Father’s.

Here is the thing; I have come to find out that I am a chaser. I chase. I don’t like to “holler”. One line shouldn’t be enough to get her attention. If it does, I will probably lose interest. Don’t get me wrong, some cats do have good openers:

interior bar room scene
Fine girl in crowd of eager men, interrupted by Hitch’s solicitation

Hitch: “Bring two Coronas over by the pool table, please” (placing $20 in hand)
Fine Girl: “But I don’t work here.”
Hitch: “Sure you don’t. Two cold ones, with lime.” (walks away)
Fine Girl: (making chase) “Hey…”

Not me, I have great climaxes. Well, at least I think they are great, but maybe it was my opener.

interior living room scene
Jerry Maguire stands facing Lucy, rambling .

Lucy: “Shut up, shut up, shut—you had me at ‘Hello’”

I am a chaser. I like conversation. I like giving up of myself in exchange for the same. I enjoy that eager anticipation that makes every lunch break, every traffic light, and every commercial an opportunity to call—and not say anything at all. Just call. Just because. I like long voicemail messages. Sending and receiving. I like spontaneous email. Sending and receiving. I like those cards that are written in cursive and say everything too perfectly. Sending and receiving. I like reciprocation. I like knowing that she likes me as much as I like her. I like trust falls. Falling and catching:

Interior Subway Car Scene
Akeem stands facing Lisa, awaiting her decision

Black dude: (to seat mate) “So whaddya think?”
White woman :( to Lisa) “Go on honey, take a chance!”

I don’t think she wants to fight for it, and I won’t fight alone. It makes me feel foolish, and I have done that before. I will be the fool with her, but I won’t be a fool without her. That I can’t do, even though so much of me wants to.

When a male holds an erection for an extended period of time without release, he develops a condition commonly referred to as “blue balls”. This is an extremely uncomfortable condition that results from anticipation anxiety. You catch my drift…wood?

Don't read this entry

2005-02-28T04:27:00.000-05:00

1. She has been here for about 3 months and we finally went out on Saturday. She was pleasant, funny even. And as always fine as any woman in a 300 mile radius. I wonder, was I enthralled because I wanted to be?

2. She is beginning to believe in the dream. She makes frequent mention of it. She asks lots of questions. She feels left out of something (someone) that she helped to create. I gave her every opportunity and I was always honest. I wish I could have been happy with her.

3. I miss her, but I know she is not who I knew. I wish I could introduce her to me. I think she'd like me better, now. I think she is scared and knows that I am too.

4. "You allude me, yet loosely amuse me when you confuse me." She enjoys that. I don't. I did, but I am growing tired. If it's there, she holds back. Enough to make me think she doesn't feel it any more. She isn't ready, but I can't even feel that she's willing. What good is monogamy if you can't keep her attention? Nobody else has cracked the safe like this one though...

5. She has never shown this much interest before. I wonder what it is? Facial hair? Longer locks? Probably fleeting, definitely intriguing. How does she feel about me: "Fair to midlin"

6. She has a boyfriend. I enjoy talking to her, as I know she does me. I think we have found that happy medium where there is no infidelity, but much satisfaction.

7. Young, flighty. Not ready for me. I don't have time to be wiping people's mouths and changing diapers either. I don't have any kids.

India, I am "ready" too...
Didn't I say don't read this entry?

"Be responsible for your art"

2005-02-28T03:03:00.000-05:00

said Sidney Poitier.

I think that a woman in a men's room or a fart in church are both far more appropriate than Chris Rock's rendition of the 2005 Oscar's. If you got a problem with it, you should probably click that little "x" in your top, right-hand corner and wait for the next posting.

First joke. He didn't even get passed the first joke. "DEF OSCAR JAM," CHRIS? He was already irrelevant, yet he thought his obscurity in the Oscar cannon was an invitation to put on some white gloves, burn some cork to a fine paste, and start hoofin across the stage. I have no doubt that he and Beyonce were chosen along with Puffy not for their veteran Oscar experience, but for their ability to completely marshall the attention of a demographic, who in recent years has been absent from Oscar ratings. That was obvious, I mean Usher was there! But what was even more obvious was the possibility that our black host (robbed of his superpower: cursing) would make black jokes.

This is not to say that some of those jokes weren't funny. (They would have been great on an HBO special, or UPN's rebroadcasting of the Source Awards.) This is just to say, I had really hoped that he would rise to the occassion. I hoped he would lift us up not let us down. Nobody said he had to be Carson (whom they honored) or Crystal. All he had to do was be "Oscar Chris". Take the high road, rise to the challenge. Be funny without cursing on National TV and without playing the race card that we all know is in your hand--cause the dealt it to you.

I thought that for the most part he was inappropriate. Some events are timeless, classic. As such, they are meant to be approached with a maturity and refinement often beyond what is typically available in today's bank of performers. The lack of "appropriateness" does not come from an ineptitude, but rather the perception that everything has to be different, redifined or remixed. That is the very reason kids look at you crazy when you tell them to take their hats off when they come inside. We don't keep anything sacred. Every tradition is permeated by the persistance of disruption.

Beyonce looked great. Halle looked greater. Star Jones needs to always were long sleeves.

Tonight, as Eric Morlon Bishop took the stage to receive Jamie Foxx's Academy Award nod for Best Actor in the biopic, I blinked as I looked up into the light over a nearby dining room table hoping it would burn dry my tear ducks. A non-traditional actor, who once on stage had the world in concert. He didn't sell us short. He didn't sell us out. One of the most accurate feature film length portrayals was followed by an acceptance speech that no amount of editing could ever pervert.

"Be responsible for your art." Thank you Jamie. Thank you very much.

The Blank Entry

2005-02-25T10:00:00.000-05:00

I am just going to ramble because I can. Besides, I am "listening to the music!" It has proven to be inspirational. I need a clean slate. Not a clean slate, but a cleaner slate. Some of the things that are currently on my slate need to remain, but many of them do not. I need to get a place where I can be completely me. I have been learning a lot about myself in the last year, and despite the fact that this last year may have looked like a waste of time, I needed it. A lot of my ambition needed redirection immediately after college. Actually, it could have used a little jump start after I pledged. But now I am ready to move on. I needed this last year of "not doing anything" to see what I could do, to see what I could learn. I can do a lot. I learned even more.

I can stay up for long periods of time if neccessary when it has something to do with a project I have a vested interest in. I can write, pretty well. I learned how to write Press Releases and Media Advisories this year. I learned how to change air filters in home furnaces. I learned to never work for someone, even if they are really good friends of yours, without an agreement unless you are perfectly willing to lose some money, time, and energy or worse...that friend. I learned that any epidemic can enter your house, whether your doors are locked or not. I learned that bartering is the best way for a cat without a car to get a ride. I learned that tough love is the best love to get from a nigga who feels most comfortable loving that way. I discovered that after three days of Oriental Ramen noodles your taste buds are no longer willing to believe they are being fed Alfredo. I learned that if spending time with a girl requires spending money on a girl, she is not down for the struggle. I learned that even with your friends and families support, there will be numerous times where you will have to motivate yourself. I learned that when the two "wills" are in concert, nothing is impossible. I learned that I can leave my hair twisted for about a month and some change before untwisting it will be so difficult that I will whimper like a baby baboon. I learned that if she grinds her teeth in her sleep, you shouldn't ask her any questions you don't want to know the answers to. I learned how to book a club for a concert date. I learned how to use Outlook. Quincy and Ray were old friends. I learned that toilet paper should come from the top. I learned that you aren't supposed to wash your face with body soap. I learned how to write songs and critique music with a discerning ear. I learned that I should always find the camera. I learned that I should always bring the camera. I learned to keep my business to myself. And to let people keep their own darn business too. I learned to really appreciate my name and not to fall back on a stage name. I learned how to blog. I learned how to cope with my selfishness. I learned not to be mad or disappointed in people for being exactly who they are and not who I wanted them to be. I learned how to sautee shrimp. I learned how to teach a drama class. I learned that I have so far up to go, that I don't have time to be down. I learned that I am not invincible, but I am hard to hit.

Robbing Hoods

2005-02-24T19:34:00.000-05:00

“He can really ‘get up’! I mean he’s got some ‘hops’”! exclaimed the white commentator. Flipping the channel, the pre-Grammy red carpet bonanza was called “All up in the Grammy’s”. At some point, we went from this Ebonics debate where every kid in your class was asking you if you spoke it (and you often said yes, just to be as cool as the real bilinguals) to where every newscaster and media program uses some form of it in their nightly reports. Did I miss something? When did you people not only decide that our slang was okay, but that you could use it? I guess that was around the time that you figured out that you could make it a commodity it and sell it for your fortunes, huh? Yeah that makes sense, after all you did start packaging chitterlings up for us at to purchase at our local grocer; the very same chitterlings that you threw to us as scraps. I guess it does make sense that you would be selling us a dialect that we developed out of our inherent speech pathology.

It can’t just be me, you all must have noticed how often the white character on TV says, “Girlfriend…” or “Oh no she didn’t…” It is everywhere. But that is not my problem. I don’t have a problem with it being everywhere; my only problem is with the propaganda surrounding it. I grew up with white people and was raised to have a discerning eye for all people. I know when a white boy calls me “brother or bro” out of love, a naïve attempt to connect with me, I also know when it is meant to be disrespectful or cutting. I know what the wolves look like even in sheep’s clothing.

Audition Part 3

2005-02-23T15:29:00.000-05:00

Friday night after an exhaustive day of walking. (Note: Lennox Rd to Lennox Mall to Piedmont, to Sydney Marcus, back to Lennox Rd with one contact lens and no cell phone). I fellowshipped with some brothers of mine. Randall, Joe, Geoff, Walk, and Rue. After checking my email, my only real form of communication, while my phone was off, I received an email for Tisch. I ran out of the apt. screaming as my friends huddled around the computer to see what had gone right/wrong. NYU had requested that I come back for a final audition. There had been 834 applications received and they were now down to 3 groups of 15, which I was a part of. I had given them my mom's cell phone as a back up, so when I happened to be home for my dad's surprise 60th birthday party, I received a phone call from them. Specifics, requests for Shakespeare. Four audition pieces total. Please say a prayer for me. March 12-14th.

Most memorable kisses pt 1

2005-02-18T04:15:00.000-05:00

By no means do I consider myself to be promiscuous. Or a good speller. Is that right? But I do enjoy kissing. I think it is a very personal experience. One that I don't share often. Not often enough, anyway. Yeah, well here goes. The beginning of the most memorable kisses, not the best, but most memorable.

1. 7th grade. We both had braces. It was outside of Grace Lee's party. It was a sleepover for all the girls, but the boys had to leave at like 930 or something. We stole outside, in front of the garage and slammed our faces into each other. I can't say there were fireworks, but definitely some electricity. It was quick though, cause I think we were afraid of getting stuck together.

2. Sophomore year of high school. The beaches of Ocean City. Oddly enough it was a church retreat. Me and a girl from "the other side of the tracks". Parents didn't really approve of her, but she had a good heart, and was enthralled with me. I remember looking out at all that water, and her getting cold. I took off my wind breaker and gave it to her, telling her that I would never forget the moment. (insightful). And it happened. It was the softest, purest, most sincere kiss I had had at that point. The most powerful thing about it was that I was sure that we both meant it.

3. Junior year of high school. I was an escort in a Debutante ball. This was in an area and at a time when intelligent, promising young black men where all the rage. Every mother trying to hook me up with their daughter...but not this one. She ran track, had an older brother, and a little more attitude than I was used to at this point. We had been talking about kissing for weeks , but we only saw each other at this one practice on Sundays--in an old church basement. Well, I guess it would have to do. We snuck off, trying several places, before sitting together on the steps. It was funny how eagerly it had been anticipated. It probably would still be going on now, if only my mom hadn't yelled for us, the only couple missing from practice.

4. Senior year. Had to kiss on stage. I was the Music Man, she was the librarian. Our school was mostly white, I was mostly black. She was ALL white. Every administrator, former klansman, school board member, preacher, and parent in that audience turned white (er). It was a long one too. If I remember the music cues correctly it lasted for at least 8 bars of music.

5. April 10, 1999. The girl that would go on to be my girlfriend for years after. We were in Jack n Jill together. She was an officer. I wasn't. Officers get the all nite suite. She had me appointed as editor of the newsletter so that I could stay up all nite in the suite. Everybody wanted her attention. She was the "it" girl. She chose me. I had sang to her on the bus on the way back from the mandatory recreational retreat more than half a year earlier, and I never stopped singing. When we kissed, she led the way. The first time I hadn't led. Not that I wanted to, I didn't care. But she never even expected it. It was as though her lips had something they needed to say--first, before mine. And I listened. Then I responded, well.

I got the magic stick

2005-02-18T02:29:00.000-05:00

What do you do when the magic is gone? I mean, let's be real. Most marriages end up in divorce, and far less relationships end up in marriage. So at some point the magic has got to wear down or wear out. Even for those of us who profess to have the magic stick, at some point the "abra cadabras" have got to come up short.

I have been told by both my male friends and my female friends that I lose interest quickly. They claim that I just like the chase, I don't think that's true. I have been in three pretty lengthy relationships for a young man my age. AND have been faithful while in those relationships. Only one of them ended because I got bored. Only one, and at that point we broke up. You would be hard pressed to believe it, but I am actually a relationship kind of guy.

I entertain a lot of people because that is how my mind works. I have fleeting thoughts, desires, and ideas that are often more than one person can handle. You can't just pull that kind of person out of thin air. Well, not without waving your magic stick anyway.

Almost Famous...

2005-02-10T17:08:00.000-05:00

I think that I am going to be famous. I have felt this way for a long time. Most kids say they want to be fireman, doctors, or ball players. I wanted to be everything, so acting made the most sense. Nowadays, kids want to do whatever will get them on CRIBS, even if it means selling their souls. It's one extreme or the other. Sell your soul and get rich or hold on to it and stay broke. Talk about a rock and a hard place. He has me so squarely in between the two. I have no intention of selling my soul, for any price; but I always end up in the marketplace. Everyone ontop of each other, hoarding their belongings, trying to decide what piece of themselves they can sell to get ahead. Or maybe not get ahead, but at least get something brand name. I get a chance to observe them. I leave with my soul and often times they don't. I also leave understanding why they sold it. Though He helps me resist it. When I'm not in the marketplace, I feel like I am on the verge of making it. Whatever "it" is. It feels like its time.
It feels long overdue. But I know there is something I am supposed to get from the marketplace. I know I am there because I am strong enough to hold onto my soul. But what am I supposed to purchase? What am I supposed to trade for? What am I supposed to leave with?

They say you hit rock bottom, right before you start climbing up. Well, if that's the case...I am almost famous.

The Adventures of Man-Tan & Wit!

2005-02-09T13:50:00.000-05:00

Standing aloft the ninth cloud surveying the tops of snow covered mountains we join our hero, Man-Tan, with his trusty sidekick Wit at his side. Having recently ascended the free space just above the mountain, we find our fearless duo resting in their lair of made of cumulus clouds.

Man-Tan: I am weary from my exploits and worried about being exploited. I have broken many hearts along the way. The hearts of those who adore me, the hearts of those who trusted me all have been broken. What luck to be a hero and have to save the world from itself?!?

Wit:I know what you mean. If it wasn't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all! Haayo! (taping imaginary mic) Is this thing on?

Man-Tan: Not now wit. While I will usually enjoy your retorts, today is not the day for your stand up comedy act.

Wit: Stand up? I'm squatting! Haayo! I'll be here all week, don't forget to tip your bartenders!

Man-Tan: I am serious Wit.

Wit:Well, I'm Wit, serious. But I gotta tell ya, I really think Man-Tan works better with your complexion. I'm like butta ova heah!

Man-Tan: You know Wit, even though I can't stand you sometimes, I must admit you make the absolute best out of every situation. You help me to stay strong. You have gotten me through bounced checks, missed calls, incomplete homework assignments, and even a few potential DUI's. Hell, Wit you have even made it okay for me to date outside of my race every now and then. So I trust you Wit. I trust you. Give me some advice Wit. I think I have tried to hard. I think I have tried to hard to please everyone. I keep trying but I feel like I can't win for losing!

Wit: You know, Man-Tan that reminds me of a story my cousin Id used to tell. There was a man who entered a local paper's pun contest. He sent in ten different puns, in the hope that at least one of the puns would win. Unfortunately, no pun in ten did. Oh and it's "too" not "two" and NOT "to". I should be getting paid for this!

Man-Tan: That sounds like one of your mother, Cornie's jokes.

Wit:C'mon that was some of my best stuff.

Under Pressure

2005-02-08T11:17:00.000-05:00

"Cupid draw back your bow/and let your arrow flow/straight to my lover's heart"...Sam Cooke

Under pressure? Song number six I think on the Motownphilly album. What did alexandervanderpool mean anyway? And why did those guys fall off? Was it just that we got tired of Wanya throwing fits at the end of every song, or was it just easier to replace them with the Boy Band era? Did Boyz II Men even make it to lunchbox and thermos status? I can't remember. But if they didn't somebody needs to get them a lunch pail in rotation.

Back to the subject, how do you feel about Valentine's Day? I find that a lot of people say, "I hate Valentine's Day." But those are the people who have never had a good one. The crazy thing is that most of the people that say that are women. But how often is it that a woman calls a guy up and does anything more than posture to be his Valentine, hoping for the promise of some salmon and tiramisu. No joke, I have gotten more "it's been so long since we've talked" calls this week, then my call screening is willing to field. You will not get the best of me, just because Hallmark says so. You will not get the best of me just because all of the best servers and bartenders work on that night. You will not get the best of me because I am afraid of being by myself on Valentine's Day. Andre said it best.

But there is something to be said for role reversals. Fellas, when was the last time your lady, a lady, someone's lady took YOU out for Valentine's Day? How often do women make the reservations, fill the jacuzzi, and spread the petals like rose bearers in Zamunda? It just doesn't happen. We are expected to comport with the rituals of the day. Men cannot say, I hate Valentine's Day. Men cannot boycott Valentine's Day. Go to the florist on Monday, who will you see? Men. Winery? Men. Victoria's? Men. Car wash? Men. Beauty Salon? Women. Where else will you find them? Waiting by the phone. Don't get me wrong, I am a spoiler. Oh, I love to give to women. I receive fulfillment through the delight they get. That is the reason you get the best of me. But, I would like to be swept, you know? I'd love to be surprised with a dozen...um...don't really care for flowers that much...turkey burgers! Or, um...some timbs.

It is men who are under pressure to be creative, romantic, and spontaneous. Women need only get their nails done (something they would do anyway) and be receptive--and hungry. This Valentine's Day, I want to have a good time. That's all. A good time with someone I know I have good times with. No pressure. But plenty of opportunity. Fellas, bite the bullet. Don't be that man who stays home and watches Boston Public this Monday. Go get some salmon.

Because ultimately,
"The more caking you do, the more frosting you get."
-Pi Legend

The Audition part 2

2005-02-06T05:13:00.000-05:00

...So I woke up at 8am that Friday morning. Opened up the blinds and spent most of the hour looking out of the window overlooking Broadway. Great thing to see New York, the city that never sleeps, waking up in the morning. I went back to sleep.
I got up around 11 and flipped through the television channels, ever critical of any news programs that are outside of the Delaware Valley area. For some reason, I couldn't stop thinking that I hadn't put a vital part of my acting career on my resume. The entire night, I couldn't help but think I hadn't mentioned DRUMLINE at all...well I hadn't. So I got up and added it to my resume, which of course caused me to have to reformat. Hour gone.

By the time I got up to go over my pieces and song, it was 1pm. Audition is at 4pm. I read both pieces and out of the two (a classical and a typical) I opted to perform the classical first, believing it would heighten my auditors appreciation of my range, prior to giving her the angry black man portrayal that I am sure she expected.

When I was going over the pieces everything clicked. It was all there, the magic, the intensity, the tears, everything. I thanked God, got dressed and began to walk out the door. I took the long way as it was only about 3, taking advantage of the silence to do a vocal warm up, and get in the "zone" WOOOSAHHHH!

I walk in there at 315pm and even on the elevator ride up, everybody is mad paranoid. Not a lot of talking to each other, everybody is kind of zoned. Well, you know I am the type that likes to talk to people, but I opted against it. I fell to the peer pressure.

Regular thing, sign in, tell us everything we may need to know about you in two lines or less type of thing. I comply. Yes, I was the only fly in this bowl of milk. Well, male fly anyway.I notice that my name was atop the list for my time slot (for which I was about an hour early). After spending some time in the hallway looking at the characitures of past graduating classes, I noticed quite a few of them had "House" nalia on. Maybe there was a pipeline I needed to know about...

I was called in fairly quickly, after having sat in the waiting room and listening to the extremely funny facilitator of the audition process. The put me in a warm up room, where I had time to really stretch and prepare myself. *knock-knock* "George, we are ready for you."

The room was an old New York classroom. Very reminiscent of fame, or perhaps welcome back Kotter, or even that old classroom where Judd Hirsch from the "Dear John" television series would meet with his band of weirdos. 10 meters from me sat a woman and a man. After allowing me to make some small talk, they told me to begin when I was ready.

I gave absolute best audition that I could have. I was pleased that God allowed me to do what I had asked Him to allow me to do. Perform with no regret. That I did. After going through some small how-well-can-he-take-direction excercises with the woman, I returned to my seat in the lobby to wait and see if I was called back.

As I fingered through the pamphlet on the lobby table, I was greeted by a familiar face. On the inside sleeve of the pamphlet was an older woman who looked familiar to me, and I didn't know why. Then it hit me. She was the chair of the department and the only reason she looked familiar to me was because I had just auditioned for her. Somehow I had ended up in the audition room with the chair.

Before I had a chance to evaluate my performance, our facilitator came out with her list of callbacks. As she flipped through this 5 to 6 page list, she insisted that those of us who would not be called back should not fear. "You may be so fabulous that we do not need to see you. We may have just moved you right into the fabulous pile...nonetheless don't email me until the end of February. For this bunch we will only need to see...uh (flipping through her roll) George...the second. That's all. Thank you all you were wonderful, you may leave."

Flabbergasted. Incredulous. Humbled. Appreciative. Relieved. Hungry. Excited. Honored. Pressured. Fulfilled....yeah I think that covers all of them.

I went back in and didn't do as well as I had the first time I will admit. But, other than my place in Affirmative Action America, and as the only Black male representative in the room there is one thing that I walked away from that audition with. And that is this short note from the chair:
*after receiving response to my question...."What can I work on?" Madame Chair retorts,

"But these aren't the things you learn in 5 minutes. These are the kind of things that you come to school to learn." Call it a dream, but she sounded like she was taking ownership of me, as one of hers. We'll see. To God Be the Glory!

2005-01-31T22:15:00.000-05:00

At the concerts
Our parents held up lighters
We hold up cell phones
I think that’s funny.

The Audition

2005-01-29T07:45:00.000-05:00

Alright, this is where it gets real. I am good. What does that mean to you? Yeah, well take it how you want it. I’m good. I am so good that I need to referees walking on either side of me with their hands held upright. I’m good! Real good. For real. If someone asked me, “How you feeling?” I’d have to go with good. Not enough for ya? Well that’s probably because you are one of those people who makes haste in using words like “good”. You probably throw “love” and “friend” around too, don’t cha? Well, not me. No sir, you have to earn those. And today, I earned for myself, on the litmus test of conditional feelings, a solid “good”.

I spent two nights in New York. I am actually on the plane right now. The magic of a laptop. Why did it take me so long to get one? (reference “paying rent” in any of the previous entries). Laptops are great. There are the beginning of the end of autonomy. The first wireless gateways to the Matrix. More about that later. Anyway, I went to New York on a wing and a prayer. Almost literally. I took a plane, and some clean drawers, and that might as well have been it. People who care about me: WARNING THIS MAY PISS YOU OFF, SCARE YOU, UPSET YOU, OR GIVE YOU WHAT YOU THINK IS LISCENSE TO CHASTISE ME. I went to New York City with five one dollar bills in my pocket. Yes, I know that the M60 runs to Astoria Blvd ($2) and yes,, I know that the N express will let me off at Canal Street ($2) no I didn’t know it was so unmercifully windy, not just cold, in Noo Yawk and that gloves were in higher demand than Spanish translators. For all you mathematics majors that leaves $1. Yep, no more than 4 hours into an estimated 48hr trip and I was down to a dollar.

Why would you go to New York with $5? Listen, I know how bad it is to answer a question with a question, define a word with a word, end a sentence with a preposition, etc. but allow me this: Why would I stay in Atlanta when my dream was in New York?
Yeah, I was dead broke, but that wasn’t going to change. I am one of those people who subscribes to the theory, “That one should live their DREAM and not just their LIFE.” While, I have never slept outside for Eagles tickets (shameless fan), Prince tickets, or after Christmas Day sales, I would have waited outside all night, in the blistering cold for the chance to look someone in the eye and dare them to differ my dream.

Well, it worked out better than that. An old, no current, friend of mine from college (avid boxer briefings reader!) happened to be going out of town for the weekend. She insisted that I stay with her as she lived on campus only a block away from my audition venue. I think all insistences should be honored. And so I did. In her more than modest accommodations, I helped myself to fruit snacks and iced tea. Enough to keep me alive.

The audition was amazing. I cannot even begin to encapsulate the wide range of emotions that I felt and still feel as a result of being given the opportunity to perform. I arrived early…

*That my friends is called a cliff hanger. You deserve more, you deserve to know the gooey details of the afternoon, and after my second can of Apple Juice (sweet talk the flight attendants) and six Biscoff cookies (my row mate fell asleep on his—sucker!) I am sleepy and will shut down any minute…STAY TUNED!

Let Me Shoot

2005-01-27T01:33:00.000-05:00

There is a thrill that Mike said he got at the end of every game where he might have the opportunity to score the winning shot. He just wanted the ball. Everyone knew he was getting the ball, because he always got the ball. All he needed was the ball. All they had to do was stop him from getting it. Keep the ball out of that man's hands and we can go home victorious.

Well, I guess someone forgot to warn them about the backscreen.

I am not him. But somehow, I got the ball. All I asked for was the chance to shoot. And by God (literally) I got the ball. And I really believe it's going in. And they better not foul me.

"Baby...?"

2005-01-26T04:34:00.000-05:00

What would we do with all the empty space in all those songs if it weren't for the word "Baby"? Sing your favorite song, popular of course, and see if the word "baby" isn't in there somewhere. Go to launch.com right now! Play the top three videos, black or white, yellow or red, and see if they don't use the word "Baby" at least three times. Then, try and figure out what could possibly replace this two syllable epithet of endearment.

So glad we haven't let silly things like racial boundaries, Billboard categorizations, or song quality keep us from using this word. It's words like "Baby" that unite people. It's one of those words that everybody just seems to understand. When you get to that place in a relationship, you know the one where that thing just kind of slips out (especially if it is in protest or complaint, whew!) you need to pull back and see if you could have made that same statement without it. And if you could, do so. If you really needed it, you know to connect the first verse with the second, by all means...

*by the way, I got your call at 2:00am and realized it was WAY too late to call you at 4:00am, when I woke up. So this entry is kind of like your call back.

Cordials

2005-01-24T15:02:00.000-05:00

We want it better. Whatever it is, let's make it better. With no sufficiency and definitely no complacency anywhere in sight. Unless Lens Crafters puts some coupons out advertising their new technology and you get some better glasses. Maybe some that can see people on maps waving, or even better--the future! We even want ourselves to be better. That is not to say that we want to scrap what we are, but maybe upgrade. I mean why not, that is the tone of all activity in 2005. Upgrade. Get it faster, make it longer, put candy paint on it, do something to step it up. There is always a jumpstick, a 25% more sign, a limited time value meal, or a new and improved doggy in the window for us to buy (into). One can exhaust himself searching for some channels that don't offer one or two infomercials on how to live life a little better. Even if it is only in your garage (via the new and improved organizer) or in your shower (via the new shower head) or not at home at all (flying on your accumulated frequent flyer miles/arriving at the airport in a hands free rover service). Sorry got a little carried away...

But don't get me wrong. All of that is great. This new "echo" generation, I think they called them on 60 mins, is all about instant gratification. Why shouldn't they be? After unpacking my old Nintendo while I was at the folks crib, and deciding to bring it back home to wow my friends, I recalled how simple and enjoyable it used to be. Having only four plays to choose from on Tecmo Bowl versus now being able to change uniforms, draft players, and control your blockers would throw today's video gamer into a state of shock, killing them with their Pavlovian eyes opened. Though I enjoyed its simplicity, I have to admit, it was more nostalgic than anything else. After the first half, I longed for the annoying buzz that 'ol John Madden's voice creates in my ears play after play after play after...

I guess for me, I am afraid that I can actually see the future. I am afraid that we are running out of things to keep us busy. I am afraid that the Matrix is no more far fetched a concept than the actuality that Revelations is becoming in all of our homes. I am afraid that there won't be enough of us that know how to kill rodents and insects without the touch tone "dial abilities" of an exterminator, and when the locusts start falling out of the sky we won't be able to kill them. That is if we notice them over the heavy base of our iPods.

*Yes I am accepting donations to the I- am- way- cooler- than- the- rest- of- these- bullyrooks- carrying- iPods- and- I- like- music- more- than- they- do- fund.

*Yes I have what might be the audition of my life in NY in four days and cannot afford a plane ticket.

*Yes, I am secretly concerned about having someplace to live next month.

*Yes I believe more than one ram can fit in a bush.

*No, I don't do it for my culture. I do it for yours. Hey Posterity?!? "You're welcome!"
*No, I cannot lick my elbows.

Line

2005-01-21T14:55:00.000-05:00

So you've been in an inordanantly long check out line in the supermarket before, right? Probably impatient. Most likely with something frozen in your hand. I don't know, maybe some ice cream a hot pocket or three (shouldn't more of those things come in a pack? they do, get the store brand!) And as you begin to rock back and forth on your lower extremities, because you suddenly have to use the can, you get a little frustrated. Then it happens. The line to your right, that you have been watching intently, advances by one person. That woman with the valor (sp) suit on looks arrogantly over her shoulder at you and right as you prepare to give her the "beatbox" you realize she wasn't looking at you at all. She was eye motioning to the woman who was in front of you in line. They had been tag teaming all along, and now you are stuck behind the old black woman with coupons that "can't seem to find (her) glasses in this big 'ol bag of (her's)!" Not funny lady, stop laughing, cause it isn't funny. They are beating us. They will be comfortable in their homes enjoying the spoils of their supermarket hunt long before we will even begin to rebag the groceries that you insist must be packed in a paper bag, cause you use them to catch the water that runs out of the base of your ferns. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHH! *breathing* It's okay, this cashier is kind of cute. Wish I hadn't bought the store brand stuff.

Workin 9-5

2005-01-13T15:05:00.000-05:00

Old Dolly Parton movie, right. Well, anyway I am tired. I can do 5-9, but this whole sit-until-you-lunch-then-sit-some-more-thing is not for me. I don't smoke cigarettes, so I take chewing gum breaks...and belive you me, they do not do the job. Thank God it's Thursday...

Hide & Go Seek

2005-01-10T21:34:00.000-05:00

If she doesn't tell you
Then you shouldn't know
Don't dig
Don't pry
Just let
Her lie
Or lay as it where
In the bed made for her
Just deal with the real
Pretend you don't feel

If you find that you're not
Up for the task
Then find you some plaster
And make you a mask
And place it on quickly
Whenever you're asked
Just be who she sees
And see who she be's
Then you will know her for your own
And your pain will remain still unshown

Common Courtesy

2005-01-10T15:06:00.000-05:00

My bathroom is attatched to my room. Extremely convenient except when I have company. So when I get up to use the bathroom I have to extend certain courtesies to my guest(s). A dear friend of mine expressed that one of her pet peeves is to come to someone's house and find the toilet paper coming from the bottom. I assume this is as opposed to the politically correct coming from the top. (no gender jokes please) Well, I worry less about that than I do the sound that I make for the 30-40 seconds that it takes me to complete my...how should I say...um, err, stammer--number 1. See, I don't mind if its just the guys. I could care less how I sound to them, nor do I pay any attention to how they sound. But if she's over and the DVD, CD, or outside noises aren't loud enough to cover my release, I have to aim, very, very carefully. I have found that if you can hit the blank bowl spots (you know the porcelain areas just above the water level?) then the trickle down is a much quieter and preferable descent that is often muffled and less harsh.

Gentlemen, no need to thank me. "I do it for my culture."

What did you expect?

2005-01-10T06:17:00.000-05:00

Am I at fault when I am dissappointed? Or are you? Well, I guess that would have to depend on my level of expectancy and your level of committment to what I expect. That's the thing, when people are dissappointed in other people--human beings with endless flaws if you need a reminder--it usually centers around a set of expectations. (You know like making an ASS out of U and ME.) When these expectancies are not met, he/she who set these lofty goals for someone else, is immediately dissappointed. But who appointed them the expectancy setter in the first place? Expect less, appreciate more I say. Do you know how disappointed ALL the other countries are in the United States for sending a meagar $36million to the Sri Lankan Tsunami relief efforts? Since when was $36 million meager? Expectancy.

I am trying my best not to expect from people what they don't indicate they will be, provide, do, say, or purchase, at, with, around, or for me. In that way, it is like always leaving yourself open to a good surprise and closing off any doors that disappointment may attempt to open.

Hunters & Gatherers

2004-12-27T20:11:00.000-05:00

Like any other hunter, I enjoy the chase. I enjoy the ups and downs, getting clues to get close. Some say it's the fact that inherently men were hunters and women were gathers. I think inherently women are patient and sometimes smarter. See they realize that what sustains a man's interest is the quest for acquisition. Now, this could be intuitive, it could be maturity based upon experience, or it could be that gatherers listen to their mothers much better than hunters listen to they're fathers. Either way a true hunter hunts for survival, not just sport. At some point the hunter will grow weary of sport and hunger will prevail. Gatherers, grow up.

What is sooooo funny?

2004-12-26T18:08:00.000-05:00

Along with bad drivers, that little leg on the chicken wing, and mass text messages, I cannot stand people who laugh at jokes that they do not get. Why? Why would you laugh just for the sake of laughing? If you don't get it, you should ask..."What is so funny?"

I am funny. I have realized that in recent years. I grew up by myself. What I mean is, while I was growing up, nobody else in my house was growing up. They were grown. It started off as simple impersonations, a moonwalk here in there, then graduated into knock knock's and cute wordplays. But now that I am old enough to drink with the family, I have found that I can construct a complex joke that is multi-layered and fun for all ages. That is to say, if they get it.

Last evening, while enjoying my third round of Grand Marinier with the folks, I told an off color joke. One that I was sure the Golden Girls (my three remaining grand people) would not understand. Truthfully, the joke, as many of my anectdotes are, was told,primarily, for my amusement. If any residual laughter came out of it, so be it. But it didn't particularly matter, nor could it diminish my entertainment. Well immediately after said remark, my eldest and most hip grandmother says, "Lil _____, what do you mean when you say ______." Why? Because she wanted to know. Makes sense to me.

Nine times out of ten, had that happened in my peer group, those who didn't understand it would have laughed until such time that they could figure out what they were laughing at, maybe ask someone privately, or the most likely, forget about it.

I can recall the first time I heard "burner" used as the slang epithet for a handgun. Though I had heard it used often, I never asked what it meant. I guess I was in fear of not being "street" enough or uncool. Well, as I get older (socially) I realize how stupid that was. I mean, Ms Mancini, my third grade teacher told me the same thing your third grade teacher probably told you, "There is no such thing as a dumb question..." So the next time you hear some slang that you don't recognize or a joke that you don't understand ask the question posed in this entry's title.

Simultaneousness?

2004-12-23T18:21:00.000-05:00

Every now and then I run across a song that makes me feel as though I wrote it myself. Not necessarily because of my confidance in my writing, but because of the confluence of my thoughts and the song's performance. Every now and then I'll hear a song that makes me say, "This artist really 'gets it'". Well, there is something about the simultaneousness of my thoughts and what I hear that makes me say, "I 'get it', too."

"Daughters" as performed by John Mayer, find it and listen to it. Twice.

I know a girl
She puts the color inside of my world
But she's just like a maze
Where all of the walls all continually change
And I've done all I can
To stand on her steps with my heart in my hands
Now I'm starting to see
Maybe it's got nothing to do with me

Fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Oh, you see that skin?
It's the same she's been standing in
Since the day she saw him walking away
Now she's left
Cleaning up the mess he made

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Boys, you can break
You'll find out how much they can take
Boys will be strong
And boys soldier on
But boys would be gone without the warmth from
A womans good, good heart

On behalf of every man
Looking out for every girl
You are the god and the weight of her world

So fathers, be good to your daughters
Daughters will love like you do
Girls become lovers who turn into mothers
So mothers, be good to your daughters too

Who is Jack Frost?

2004-12-21T14:50:00.000-05:00

Hang a shining star upon the highest, what? Bough, Brow, Bow?

Do you notice that in most of these holiday songs the singer, or original author uses words that we not only no longer use, but concepts we no longer embody. I read in JET (yes, JET is a good way for anybody to keep track of Black people in this country)that the number one Christmas Song of all time is "The Christmas Song" as performed by Nat King Cole. It happens to be my personal favorite (secular) Christmas jingle as well.

But consider the opening line, "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire...Jack Frost nipping at your nose." When was the last time you threw some chestnuts on the fire? Heck, when was the last time you made a fire? Power bill still high? I would venture to say most people wouldn't even know where to find chestnuts, maybe some planters peanuts, but definitely not chestnuts; and if found would we really know what purpose throwing them on open an fire would serve?

We are too concerned with iPods, digital cameras, and Playstation 3 to know anything about candy in stockings and Christmas caroling. What do we know of waking up early to the smell of turkey and the sound of the Parades? How often do you drive by homes to see crude versions of Frosty presiding?

This holiday season, try to get back to basics. Maybe, I dunno wrap your own gifts instead of relying upon the disgruntled, seasonal department store clerks. Sing a couple "Yule-tide carols". And if you're so inclined, leave some cookies out for Santa...trust me they will get eaten.

To don't list

2004-12-19T03:24:00.000-05:00

I don't eat slowly. I don't always brush my teeth before I go to bed. I don't usually eat vegetables. I don't climb out of debt. I don't workout. I don't practice. I don't try hard enough. I don't always know when to stop playing and be serious. I don't let people down easily. I don't like people to dislike me. I don't play any of the three instruments I could once play. I don't return phone calls. I don't remember birthdays. I don't wake up early. I don't go to bed early. I don't write enough. I do not pray enough. I don't keep New Year's resolutions. I don't travel enough. I don't sit with my back to the door. I don't kiss on the SECOND date. I don't use spelcheque. I don't feel comfortable telling her how broke I am. I don't like to admit that I am wrong. I don't always put on enough lotion in the web of my hands. I don't watch a lot of TV. I don't always finish the book I am reading. I don't always lift the seat up. I don't let people see me in my glasses. I don't keep up with politics. I don't have a favorite song. I don't mind fear. I don't like terror. I don't always signal before I change lanes. I don't have a car. I don't like people who aren't clean. I don't have enough shoes. I don't remember my first kiss. I don't think it was that good. I don't believe anybody on this planet is as capable as I am. I don't like to give in. I don't ever give up.

Washing My Hands

2004-12-19T02:56:00.000-05:00

My homegirl says, "Real friends stab you in the front". I believe that. I can tell that I am growing up. I asked my father this evening, as he and I were doing our best to keep warm while putting up Christmas lights, what change he saw in me. He told me that I have become a man of integrity and that he is proud of me for that. I am proud of me for that as well.

Today, I walk away from a situation that has been causing me angst and stress for the last few months. My spirit is broken, and its preservation is paramount. I have spent time in an environment that has not sought to nurture my spirit, but rather to drain it of its vibrance. It may not have been intentional, but it may have been easier to swallow if it were. Certainly it would have been less shocking; and ultimately considerably less disappointing.

I have made my position clear, and have obtained as much clarity as I would like to. Cause see, I don't believe in blastphemy. I choose my words painstakingly, realizing that once they leave my mouth they will never come back. Well, the same works for my ears. And they will never forget.

I walk away with my head held high, determined not to waste anymore of my unappreciated time, determined to care more about me then I should have ever assumed anyone else did. Said to me: "My fault, man. I have been wasting your time. I let this happen to you. I won't ever let it happen again." Said to God: "Thank you for the lesson. Thank you for the pain and the rain that I will use to wash my hands. Thank you for the pain and the rain that make the joy and the sun oh so real."

Footnotes

2004-12-18T02:12:00.000-05:00

I saw a young lady with whom I used to be involved last nite. When she hugged me, she said, "We need to get you eating again!" I guess she was telling me that she thinks I have lost weight. I can ill-afford to lose weight I suppose. I never try to hide my skinnyness, I have never been self-conscious about it at all. I have a moderately muscular build and I am blessed, so I have never been insecure about my physical makeup.

Well, except for my anchors. They aren't that bad, but I never really put myself in position for scrutiny. So deft, is my avoidance, that it no longer requires painstaking effort, it is like second nature. But, as I get older I think they need some work. Consistently...I have until the pool opens up again. If I can just get over my pride and go see the Chinese ladies...it's just that, well, it tickles.

Songs in the Key of Life

2004-12-16T01:12:00.000-05:00

Actions speak louder than words. Songs speak louder than actions. Feelings speak louder than songs.
I feel good being myself around you. I love the songs that make it easier to express what I cannot. I like the way you listen to me try to put my words together, and how you understand them. I trust you. If it is never anything else, I wanted to be able to say that I trusted you--again. That is the feeling that makes all of the actions and all of the words worthwhile. I would do it all over again, just to sit on this cloud and look out accross the vast potential with you. It doesn't matter if we get there or not. We tried, if only for a little while. We said so, if only for a little while. We felt right, if only for a little while. Never a need to recapture it with words. Our actions were always louder anyway.