Thursday, August 28, 2008

when i almost wish i had been 'that chick'

if only it had been...


my pleas were shriveled whispers of feeble weeping dying on the whine.

don't leave...

i was lying in a puddle of my own pride, wrung from me as i reached from supine position to grab at the shadow of his pant leg.

don't leave me...

sniffles squeezed from my nostrils, yanking at the line of snot sliding towards my upper lip. i continued lying on the floor, my cheek pressed to the carpet, each breath wretched from me in choking gasps, my swollen gaze stitched to the area of his exit.

instead of...

me: "i'm out. left the key to the front door on the kitchen table."

him: "aiight."

me: "bye"


i wouldn't feel as though the years with him was an existence void of emotion.

Monday, August 25, 2008

i got a divorce for THIS shit?

friday, august 22
10:11 p.m. him - i see you
me: SHIT, olegirl! rell is here! *furtively glacing around*
olegirl: who is that? is that the guy you met at dudleys?
me: hell yeah.
i look around but don't see him.
10:13 p.m. - where u at
no answer. i'm beginning to get perturbed. then i'm thinking he's not there and he's just fucking with me.
10:31 - u a lie. what am i wearing?
11:05 - white shirt, blue jeans
shit! he IS here...*furtive glances graduate into bursts of frenzied searches*
11:07 - arizonas
now i'm basically looking every cat in the face like i'm trying to decipher the code in his conduct. a few of them mistook my intent look for interest, which led to a few abrupt words exchanged along the lines of "um, i'm looking for, not you." 'perturbed' is now full blown irritation.
11:11 - did i look u in the mouth earlier?
olegirl: is that him? i turn and see this well-dressed cat, brown-skinned and relatively non-descript in looks for the most part but he had a certain swagger. i shrug.
11:16 - if i did i don't know. forgot what u look like. LOL
11:17 - nah i walked by u and ur girl
i had to think back...i remembered only two guys walking past our table. one was the cat with the swagger. the other was...the only way i can describe him is by saying he was a wide load sporting black clothes and a chain dangling from his pocket. he was standing relatively close to our table, the sweat glistening from his brow and sliding down from his temples in rivulets. dude just looked hot and moist, but not 'horny vagina hot and moist', this was 'hairy asscrack after a long workout while wearing tight polyester shorts hot and moist'. i was not impressed.
me to olegirl: oh SHIT. you don't think THAT'S him do you?!?
olegirl just snickered. aiight, irritation was evolving into mega pissed. i wanted this shit over.
11:20 - brown pants?
11:37 - u don't remember me
11:40 - okay. when did i see u last? a month ago. how was the lighting? dark. don't be insulted. i wear glasses for a reason.
olegirl gets up to go to the bathroom. while she's gone, a guy walks in front of me. he glances at me for more than a sec, then looks forward. i'm thinking "that's rell..."
me: rell?
dude doesn't answer. stupid me thinks he just doesn't hear me.
me: RELL?!?
i tap the guy on the shoulder. he looks at me like "oh shit...should i know this chick?"
me: are you rell?
dude: errr...i don't think i'm the person you're looking for.
now i'm REALLY pissed cuz not only am i feeling ridiculous, i just accosted a decent looking dude and he's looking at me like i'm crazy. dude gives me one last 'yous a crazy bitch' look before he melts into the crowd. olegirl comes back.
olegirl: i saw you when you stopped him. i tried to get back to let you know he wasn't the guy.
me: how you know?!?
olegirl: rell doesn't have a mole on his face.
me: oh my goodness! what if rell saw that shit go down?!?
we both laugh at the miscue. a part of me is seething though cuz this fool got me on the lookout. i HATE the idea of a cat looking at me from some clandestine spot. i've been stalked before. NOT a good look. i am now officially fed up.
11:49 - why don't u just come to the table and stop playin
11:50 - i left.
11:52 - why would u not stop and say hi? really rell.
11:53 - cuz u wuz chillin nik
11:56 - fa real. games are 4 kids. u gonna tell me u see me but not stop through? what kind of shit is that?
11:56 - i walked right by you
11:57 - and didn't stop. what were u waiting for?
11:57 - u mad?
11:59 - any other time u don't wanna be bothered
11:59 - yeah, cuz we been talking on the phone almost a month yet yo ass can't stop and say hi. u gotta send me texts talkin bout you see me. that's some bullshit.
saturday, august 23
12:00 a.m. - lets get up tommorrow. stop by.
12:02 a.m. - nah. u want me to stop by your house when you couldn't stop by my fucking table? nah. fuck that rell. do ya thing papi. out.
me to olegirl: PLEASE tell me this ain't the norm. EVEN IF YOU GOTTA LIE. olegirl just shakes her head.

next day me and olegirl are at phi.pps plaza buying shoes when i get a text.
4:43 p.m. - can we chat about last nite?
*beer face* when i see who sent it. getdafuckouttahere. then i'm thinking perhaps i was too hard on the brotha. i mean, i definitely don't wanna be that sista who doesn't give a brotha chance to explain himself.
4:50 p.m.- sure.
me to olegirl: you will never guess who this is.
olegirl: PLEASE don't tell me it's that tired brotha from last night.
i nod. we both sigh. a minute later the mobile rings. i look at olegirl and roll my eyes before answering.
me: hello?
him: so what's up? you mad?
me: i'm mad at myself for putting up with that shit last night for even a minute. i let it distract me when i should have been having a good time. [and perhaps a little embarrassed that i ended up accosting some cat who wasn't you]
him: here's the deal, nik. i was there with someone.
me: WHAT?!? *rolls my eyes HARD* so you're telling me you were texting me while you were on a date with someone else?
olegirl, who hears my side of the conversation, lets out a groan that sounds like "i told you these brothas ain't shit."
me: why didn't you just say you were there with someone? you know that's tacky, right?
him: come on nik, you not mad are you?
me: my god. are you serious?
him: i'm you know why i couldn't just stop and say hello.
me: dude...why in da hell were you texting me while you were on a date?
him: i wanted you to know i was checking you.
me: this is the part where i say i feel special cuz you made the effort to tell me you were 'checking me' when you were with someone else? my god, why am i still talking to you?
him: what can i do to make it up to you?
me: you're not my man, so ain't shit you need to do other than to lose this number. i ain't desperate enough to fuck around with a cat like you. peace. * i pull the phone from my ear and shake my head disbelievingly.*
me to olegirl: can you BELIEVE this fool?!?
olegirl: get ready, cuz there's more where that came from if you're dating men in the atl.
me: perhaps i need to look into carpet munching...

Thursday, August 21, 2008

folk tell on themselves (just listen for it)

"i had no idea he/she was like this..."

how many times have you heard this from a friend or even said it yourself? you've been in a relationship with this person for months/years, yet when the break up happens, you're flabbergasted at how shit went down. the person you were with 'turned' into this creature you think you don't know.

hell, i said that very same thing to myself after my marriage imploded. i was like, "damn...i didn't know the cat had it in him". thing is, even after fifteen years of 'knowing' him (eleven as friends), i never paid enough attention to the things about him that clued me into what he was capable of. in my case, i interpreted his actions based on who i thought he was, not realizing i should have let his actions determine my interpretation of him.

frankly, it's a rare thing when the 'having no idea' turns out to be true. perhaps if the folk involved haven't known each other long it's applicable, and even then there are clues offered but can be lost behind the brilliance of the sensations found in a shiny new relationship. i mean, when it's new, folk want to get past the part of getting to know each other and get straight to the mental intimacy which is the prelude to physical intimacy. sharing inner thoughts and life experiences with each other is the fast way to get to the sex and especially in the beginning, the attraction is enough to make folk impatient to get there.

marathon phone conversations, texting from sun up to sun down, emails throughout the day...these have become the new ways of gaining the 'know' on someone real quick-like. words are suddenly more important than action. dude might not have taken you anywhere, but you talk to each other every day on the phone so his interest is believed to be genuine and his intentions are considered honorable. many of us color the 'wanted ones' with ideals they haven't earned, all cuz he/she took some time out of his/her day to text a few words or make a phone call, actions that require little to no effort and frankly, take about as much time as answering correspondence at work.

the point is this...if the words are being used for the monumental task of defining one's character as it pertains to the relationship, then give them the proper scrutiny. alot of this stuff comes over time (which i strongly recommend), but with the warp speed at which folk are meeting and getting together, it's even more important to recognize the intent behind the words. i mean, the actions can't speak louder when there simply isn't a large enough inventory of actions to interpret. the clues are there, we just gotta listen out for them and not get caught up in the extraneous shit like maneuvering to get into the pants or making the person the sun in one's universe cuz we're so very tired of floating out in space alone.

with this in mind, i figure i'd discuss one of the biggest tip-offs in the history of communication. here's the scenario:

she: so how do you feel about a woman making more than a man in a relationship?

he: honestly?


okay...first off, why even begin a sentence with this unless there's a tendency to tell a lie? how ridiculous it looks for a person, when solicited for an answer, to begin with "honestly" as if giving the listener the option of either hearing the truth or a lie. whenever i get this from a guy, i'm instantly on guard, especially if he uses that term alot. i want to just say to him "no, i prefer DIShonestly please..." the speech pattern suggests he/she has to constantly delientate the information communicated into catagories of truth and lies, like he/she's a waiter serving you what he/she wants you to have instead of what you ordered.

when someone uses the terms 'honestly' or 'truthfully', it can mislead the listener because hearing them almost gives one the sense that he/she is being given the key to the person's most innermost thoughts and secrets. i mean, don't you just wanna lean over in a conspirative manner when he/she says that to you, like "ooooweeee! he/she's about to tell me some deep, unknown tidbit about him/herself!"

unfortunately, it's actually the opposite. he/she is either:

a. looking for time to formulate a lie that can pass as the truth or
b. giving you the truth, but it's that rare nugget the person offers knowing it's harmless enough not to offer any actual insight into his/her character or sabotage his/her chances at getting in by making him/her look bad.

i don't think it's done with malicious or self-serving intent most of the time. protective gear is in place when folk meet each other and it doesn't come sliding off just cuz there's an affinity there. sometimes folk want to give all the right answers cuz they fear disagreement will upset the "we're perfect for each other" vibe going on. sometimes a person's self esteem is so low he/she might think if the truth is known the person is gonna bounce.

whatever the reason, best to recognize the tendency early on so you can decide what you're gonna do. some folk are fine with mates who don't tell the truth initially cuz they know how to get the truth out eventually. some folk like the fact that they've got mates who aren't forthcoming with everything because it lends an air of mystery to the situation and they get to 'crack the code' so to speak, thereby making the relationship even more meaningful.

however, if you're not into putting in that kind of work and want the truth with no chaser from jump, it'd probably be in your best interest to step away from the one who uses those terms judiciously. otherwise, be prepared for the end and the reason for it. (hell, some folk just in it for the sex and don't give a shit about the truth anyway...)

Monday, August 18, 2008

random musings monday

saturday, august 16
12:01 a.m. him: where u at?
12:05 me: arizona, over by ston.ecrest. where u at?
12:10 him: can i come over ma ma?
12:12 me: i'm not at home
12:17 him: can i come over ma ma?
12:19 him: can i come over ma ma?
12:20 him: can i come over ma ma?
12:30 ole girl, who just so happened to be out with me [from parking lot to me in the restaurant]: i am so tired of the not so complexed non complexities of life that really don't exist
12:31 me: PREACH (although i really didn't know what the fuck she was talking about, but figured she was ranting and needed some positive reinforcement)
12:39 him: we gon get up tonight?
12:43 me: NO
12:51 VID 00004.3gp sent to a different him: me right now [email with video attachment of band we vibing with outside]
1:17 original him: u my peoples?
1:24 me: what does that mean?
1:26 original him: nik i like u, i want u to be safe
1:30 me: im safe
1:32 him: U love!
1:36 me: U drunk!

alright gang, pop quiz:

1. at which point did original him pretty much guarantee he won't be getting any ass from me? u get a cookie if you guess correctly.
2. why do folk text when they're drunk? isn't that the equivalent of operating heavy machinery while heavily medicated? at the very least it's like jacking off for ten minutes before you realize you got your hand on someone else's dick
3. isn't 'not so complex' and 'non-complexities' the same damn thing?

what i'm beginning to realize is that navigating the dating sea means every now and again running into icebergs of idiocy.

okay, what fool thought it was a good idea to hold a live draft on saturday at 10:15 p.m.? did i join a league full of guys living in their parents basement, plastered to computer chairs encrusted with old ejaculation? who da hell is gonna be home on a saturday night for a live draft?!? if i hadn't bitched about it, i'd probably have been stuck with rex *that mofo's a* grossman as a starting qb. *shudders*

if a guy tells you he:

1. will drive you to charlotte in his car and
2. pay for the entire weekend (to be fair, we would have been staying with mutual friends so he wouldn't be paying for a whole lot)

is he being completely honest when he says "i just wanted to hang out as friends"?

kat came and picked up assassin yesterday, leaving me with one less cat to get rid of. she says she's gonna stop through to get le tigre at the end of the month. in the meanwhile, le tigre has gotten really needy and whiney. i'm not sure if it's because his in-house piece is gone (assassin was a female) but imma have to remind him my leg isn't a pussy and i'm just not all that sympathetic to a man's needs right now, even the four-legged ones.

so i'm exiting my spot yesterday afternoon and i run into blade next door. recap on blade:

1. he's black
2. he's relatively attractive (although not really my type)
3. he's got a bit o'money to burn (convertible sedan bmw in driveway)
4. he's educated (and just enrolled into school to get his ph.d.)
5. he's a snappy dresser (aiight, this one here is a stretch. last time i checked him he had on an all-white outfit with some fire-engine red gator shoes. he brought to mind casper floating over his own entrails.)
6. he's gay *le sigh*

and turns out, he's got excellent taste in men. he drives up with his newest dick in a box, a tall bottle of kahlua complete with broad chest, bald head, and salt/pepper goatee. i didn't even play it off when i was checking him. dude was dressed nicely casual in a soft green cotton polo top and loose fitting jeans that did nothing to hide the slight bow to his legs. then he spoke and it was like he was pouring his voice into the air and serving it to my ears. for the first time in my life i was mourning the fact i wasn't naturally attached to a dick. he was:

1. educated
2. fiscally comfortable
3. witty
4. fione

after making small talk with the two of them, i got in my car, backed out the drive, and drove away. the smile i had bricked to my face crumbled into dust as soon as they were out of view.

really, it just fucking sucks to be a single straight black sista in da atl. *smh*

email from hipdoc:

With the start of the new year I thought we should sit down and discuss the last several months and the future. When this week are you free?

cynical me read it like:

you're a new piece and i thought you should sit on my lap and take dicktation. i'm assuming your services are free?

my responding email:

I’m available today from noon to five, tomorrow from noon to 1 p.m., and the remainder of the week between 3-5 p.m. Let me know what works for you. [it took me ten minutes to send that email because i spent 9 minutes, 30 seconds fretting over the word 'available']

i think i'm gonna request a chaperone for this meeting, cuz i would really hate to get ethnic on this cat if he tries something.

ended the weekend on the phone with peii. gawtdamn that cat is just sexy.

aiight, so perhaps it doesn't suck all that much to be a single straight sista in da atl...

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

couples therapy [the end of the beginning]

"There once was a man from Nantucket
Whose dick was so long he could suck it.
While wiping his chin,
He said with a grin,
'If my ear were a cunt, I could fuck it.'"

the silence punctuated the ending of his recitation like a hand smack halting a recalcitrant child's temper tantrum. he stared at me with a combination of accusation and fury, igniting my indignant embarrassment until i was pooling into the seat cushions of the chair, desperately trying to disappear inside the fibers like a stealth stain.

"this is the kind of crap she's reduced our relationship to," he continued, turning to lee with disgust. she was bent over her writing tablet, scribbling who knows what. i shivered nervously, grabbing for the retreating strands of my dignity until i had pulled my spine straight.

"really," i began hoarsely as i cleared my throat of the knot in it, "it's not as bad as all that."

he humphed.

"maybe not in the beginning," he shot back, "but now it's just a clusterfuck of incoherent ideas punctuated with a plethora of profane language."

what da...HELL nah...

"hold up one fucking acting like you don't know me," i bit out from between clenched teeth, my fury boiling over, exploding into an yelling tirade "it's not like you went to bed with snow white and woke up the next morning with eric cartman. this has been me from DAY.FUCKING.ONE, DUDE."

he looked over at lee, a triumphant expression on his face, "the more you open your mouth, the more you prove my point, nikki."

the scratching sound of lee's pen racing across the paper dropped into the sudden silence like fingers across a blackboard. she was bent over her notepad as the silence became obese, its bloated notes of nothing almost smothering the skinny ticks heard from the wall clock.

what could she possibly be writing?!?

i began wringing my hands nervously, squeezing my fingers so tightly the knuckles popped. the acid in my stomach was expanding into fists punching cramps into my abdomen.

not now. please not now...

"go ahead, nikki"

i bristled as i felt his lips close to my ear.

"when you get nervous, first thing you do is wring your hands," he uttered smugly, "second thing you do is-"

"do NOT act like you know me like that, cuz you DON'T," i whispered vehemently. i stiffened my body in preparation for the upcoming battle. he watched me closely, as if my every movement was already scripted in his mind. i ran my eyes over to lee's form, still pulled over her pad, completely oblivious to our exchange.

"so now i don't know you," he countered dryly.

i gave him the finger and turned away from him.

"why are you trying to fight it?" his question tapped me softly in the back.

"will you PLEASE shut up?" i implored as quietly as i could.

"you might as well let it go before you hurt yourself," he responded on a low note.

"man, FUCK YOU," the explosion of words from my mouth coinciding with the loud noise and flesh rotting smell exploding from my ass. i tossed a sheepish glance over my shoulder as lee's head snapped up at the interruption.

he just lifted his eyebrow knowingly before shaking his head slowly.

"no," he finally said on a tired sigh, "fuck YOU, nikki. stop acting like i don't mean anything to you, cuz i DO."

*sniff*...lee's nose was angled in direct line with the odiferous missle fired. she inhaled, then stopped cold as her face folded into fury.

"oh HELL nawl..."

"i'm sorry," i interrupted quickly as i waved my arms in the air to disperse the smell, "just a lil nervous..."

lee twisted in her seat to reach for the tiny fan on her desk. she flicked on the switch. the soft whirr from its tiny engine inserting itself into the pauses of the conversation while its elfin wind tried to haul the gargantuan bag of sulfurous compounds toward the window. she turned back to us, her glance dancing with irritation from his face to mine.

"well," she finally began after a moment of silence, "it's obvious your relationship is no longer smurfy..."

"ya think?" i said sarcastically as i shot him a hot glare. he humphed again, which was really beginning to bug the shit out of me.

"really, nikki," he countered in disgust, "you're acting like you didn't bring this on yourself."

i gasped in pain from the direct hit. "bu-but i DIDN'T!"


the sound of lee clearing her throat was but a dull knife merely denting the animosity in the room.

"yes you DID!"




"AHEM GAWTDAMNIT!" lee roared before jumping up to lean over both of us. the sound of her pad and pencil crashing onto the floor smacked us into stunned silence.

"see," she muttered before bending over to angrily to snatch the items off of the floor, "you fools got me using the lord's name in vain and i ain't HAVING it! do you hear me?!"

she pierced me with the anger in her eyes. i opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. lee using the lord's name in vain had indeed scared the words right out of me.

oh shit. she's PISSED.

"pick your lip up offa the floor," lee said a minute later as i remained there, frozen. i closed my mouth and carefully leaned into the back of my chair, my eyes scanning her warily. he was looking at her with a mixture of fear and admiration, the bastid. lee took a deep breath and glanced down at her notes.

"okay," she said, "let's try this again."


a simultaneously screamed song of accusation.

lee's eyes closed on a wince as she brought her hand up to wearily pinch the bridge of her nose.

"good LAWD"

Monday, August 11, 2008

random musings monday

friday, august 8, 2008, 10:32 p.m.
him: so you just leaving work?
me: yeah
him: so you on your way to my house?
me: why would i be headed there?
him: so we can talk and chill

fifteen minutes before that...
him: i can't lie. if you came over here, i can't say i wouldn't be trying to press up.
me: that means i can't come over.
him: NOOO...i'm not saying i WOULD press up. i can't promise i won't try. what can i say? i'm attracted to you.

ten minutes before that...
him: i'm just sitting here in my boxers
me: why you telling me that for?
him: no reason

10:33 p.m.
me: dude, how i look coming over your house this late? this ain't 'social call' time of day. this is 'we fucking' time of night.
him: what, you don't trust yourself?
me to myself: i remember this exact strategy being used in june of 1991....

june, 1991:
different dude: what, you don't trust yourself?
me to myself: what, he think i don't have the self control to be at his house and not fuck? I'LL SHOW HIM.
me to him: hell yeah i trust myself. you ain't got it like that.
me to myself the next morning as we lay there in bed: shit.

august 8, 2008 10:33 p.m.
me to him: um, no. i don't trust myself.

is it just me or did that favre situation play out like favre was the whiny bitch trying to force her husband to divorce her? frankly, i've never been on the love boat with that cat. i remember an interview a few years back when favre said something to the equivalent of "i'm not teaching aaron rodgers shit. that ain't my job." funny how that particular side of favre was nicely swept under the rug like it was just his moment on the rag. whateverz.

i'm trying to decide if i was just subtly hit on by hipdoc. here's the exchange...u tell me what you think:

hipdoc: do you have any cute friends who wouldn't mind dating a married doctor?
*slow blink while i digest what he just asked*
me: huh? uh, heh (that 'heh' was done in complete discomfort)
crazycow: we're venturing off tangent now...

okay, so he asked me during a team meeting, but i had to wonder. i mean really, what married dude even jokes about that unless he's feeling the room, ya know? so of course i'm of the mindset he was testing the waters. he had that kinda laugh on his face, like "i'm joking but only if you're uncomfortable with the question" look. i had a hard time even looking at him after that cuz i didn't know what to make of the question. then the new it guy (from now on known as 'chaun, which is short for leprechaun cuz he's a relatively petite irish dude) casts this sly glance in my direction like he was interested in the answer but didn't want to give himself away. the thing is, he's recently married and new wifey is pregnant (the circumstance precipitating the nuptials). what da hell he doing looking at me like that? damn, i know black women are a relatively new addition to the whole interracial buffet but that doesn't mean we come on the 'dick-down for a dolla' menu.

this weekend became surreal as soon as i got a text at 9:37:47 a.m. on saturday morning from peii: "oh my god! bernie died!"

first thought: "this must be a white thing cuz i don't get this cat's sense of humor at ALL."
second thought: let me check the 'net (cuz nikki still without cable and local television access)
so i pull up the net on the crackberry and there it is..."bernie mac dead at 50". was in shock then and am still in shock now. i think it's times like this when i'm glad i don't have easy access to television. i didn't get to voluntarily drown myself in the mourning movements found on the channels. you know, when folk do the retrospectives and talk about how great the guy was and how everybody's gonna miss him, etc., etc. it's easy to get depressed about it when you see it over and over again.

i haven't watched a lick of the olympics. even when i was at the 'rents house on sunday. i'm just too cynical a fan now. it's hard for me not to believe folk ain't on some kinda performance-enhancing drug. marion jones passed all her drug tests during the olympics but it has now been proven that she took drugs. bottom line...when you mix sports with world politics, it's not just about winning, it's about proving one's way of life/political ideology is superior to another's. therefore to assume countries are dilligently keeping their athletes clean when they aren't sure other countries are doing so is unrealistic. i just hope the u.s. basketball team wins the gold, otherwise the u.s. will have officially had it's scrotum removed.

i've noticed more than my fair share of blog hook ups over the last few years i've been blogging. it's actually quite cute to see fellow bloggers make their way towards each other romantically. it gets ugly when shit don't work out and then links and pictures quietly (or loudly) disappear from blog rolls and/or the requisite "things just didn't work out" blog entry. frankly, i prefer not reading about that shit at ALL, but folk get giddy so what you gonna do? it's their blog, they deserve to write all the mushy shit that can be rended from their gushy lil hearts. i would just suggest that when it ends, please be just as willing to divulge how that dude/chick fucked up as you were to talk about how wonderful he/she was in the beginning. i want all the bitter "that negro got a little dick" or "that chick's coochie smells like a sewer full of dead bodies" or "when we fucked, i had to pretend he was someone else in order to get mine off." kinda details. this last one is especially satisfying if dude wrote how great the sex was for both of you on HIS blog.

as the reader, i at least deserve that payoff after having to read all that other sappy shit for months.

when i first began blogging, i was easily infatuated by good writing. if a brotha knew how to turn a phrase he was turning me out at the same time. i found myself placing all kinds of undeserved platitudes on cats. if he was a good writer, he was suddenly a deep and textured person full of integrity and good will who was kind to kittens and kids, paid all his bills on time, and was the most attentive lover who just so happened to have the biggest dick EVAR. after being in the game for three years, i've realized that blogs are just like anything else absent of significant offline contact...they're mirrors reflecting only selective images and can never be given weight when attempting to discern the true nature of a person's character. it's easy to confuse confession with intimacy on this thing. for example, i could tell you about my farts and cellulite but that don't mean you know me. that just means i got candid and told you about some shit other folk might not talk about.

fa real though...if you met a guy at a club a few days a week for six months, would you assume you knew everything about that cat just cuz you talked to him for six months? would you be ready to get exclusive and give him access to the coochie? would you assume you know that cat and you tight like that just cuz he told you about his hemorrhoids?

no matter how a relationship begins, somewhere in that mix there has to be experiences shared before a relationship gets real. if it wasn't important, folk everywhere would be married to blow-up dolls and dildos.

Friday, August 08, 2008

the hazards of living on borrowed time [repost]

[i decided to repost this because i'm standing at a crossroads as i think many of us are...perhaps a catalyst is in order...]

*originally posted 5.2006*

we interrupt our regularly scheduled 'roots' programming to bring you a slice of reality...

death has struck upon my family's door once again. yet again, no one saw it lurking outside in the driveway, standing in its charcoal cloaking with its scythe in its hands. when the doorbell rang, i thought it was a friend stopping by for a visit. i was wrong. or was i?

either way, we had no way to prepare for it.

one of my best friends lost her father yesterday morning after a violent attack left him incapacitated following a stroke brought on by the attack. the reasoning behind the attack? inconsequential, cuz nobody deserves to go out like that.

our families were really like one big family. the kids grew up together and for a while, her father was like another father for me. i didn't see him much after her parents divorced but i still thought of him as a father figure. when i found out he died, i was in shock. i still am, really.

this will be the fourth funeral i attend this year. the fourth. in the previous four years i've only attended ONE funeral.

you ever feel like the more funerals you attend, the closer death is creeping towards YOU? i can't help but feel this way. i think it's because death has never really been all that far away from my family. my dad was killed when i was three. my mom was diagnosed with lupus when i was nine. i've always felt a sense of impending loss, like my life and the lives of those around me was really on borrowed time.

like every day at dawn i had to renew the loan of the seconds making up the span of my lifetime.

"hello! welcome to the the time bank. how can we help you?"

"i would like to borrow some time, please."

"time? what kind of time?"

"uh, the kind that will allow me to live longer. DUH."

"don't take that tone of voice with me, miss. you're a RISK. we might never see the repayment of our time before you kick the bucket. after all,

1. you're black, which means you're more prone to hypertension and other ailments that can cut your time short.
2. you're female, which means you're more likely to have your time stolen by heart disease than a man.
3. you're a bon bon away from being a fat cow, which means you're more likely to get diabetes. you know...that one there steals more time from our bank than people realize."

"hold up! i am NOT a fat cow"

"ma'am, i wouldn't finish that if i were you...YOU are here requesting a loan for time from US, remember?"

"yes, yes. just give me the damn time and i'll be on my way."

"before my bank is comfortable with loaning you this time, we need to learn a few things about you first."

"this is a black thing, isn't it? you're gonna turn me down cuz i'm black. you racist motha..."

"of course this is a black thing, ms. indigo! being a black female places you at a higher risk for all of the things mentioned previously as well as HIV. we could very well be wasting our time by loaning it to you. "

"whatever, dude. i won't even get into the discussion about how inherent socioeconomic inequality as established by a history of racism in america has contributed to my higher risk status. i don't have time for that. just tell me what you need so i can get my time and get out of here. as you can see by the hourglass right here, i'm down to a few granules..."

"ahhh yes. okay, let us get on with it then, shall we? what is it you plan to do with this time?"

"what do you need to know that for?? as long as its legal, which it is by the way, you don't need to know what i'm using it for."

"madam, it is our right to ask because it is our time you are seeking to borrow from us."

"uh...then can i get back to you on that one? i haven't really thought it out. right now i figure i'll just use it to stay alive for another day or so."

"but what do you plan on DOING with this 'day or so'? you cannot simply WASTE it! that would not be a good investment for us..."

"wait! i don't plan on WASTING it per se...more like just using the time to uh, figure out what i wanna do with the time i'll be requesting from you in the future."

"let me see if i understand you are telling me you desire this time to contemplate what you plan on doing with the time you think you shall be getting from my bank in the future? what kind of bull-cocky is that??"

"bull-cocky? this an american bank? what american says bull-cocky???"

"do not insult me, miss indigo. as i have said previously, you have need of us more than we have need of you."

"not necessarily...if not for folk like me, your bank wouldn't even exist."

"this conversation is going off on a tangent and i have not got all day."


"i find no humor in your demeanor. let us are going to use the time we loan you to figure out what you are going to do with future time. time that you are not even promised to have. that sounds like a wasteful endeavor to me, miss indigo."

"look...i'm almost OUT of time. if you don't hurry up and give me the damn loan i'm gonna die, therefore making the loan totally unnecessary!"

"hmmm...just one more question..."

"WHAT?!? what do you need to know??? am i a good risk? NO. i eat junk food and don't work out as much as i should. i'm a nico-nut and i don't get enough sleep at night. emotionally, i'm a wreck and have contemplated suicide on numerous occasions. i drive like a maniac and will dive into the deep end of a pool despite the fact i only know how to doggie paddle. i drive like a lunatic and work in an office building with asbestos in it. i have no clue on how to protect my heart from being broken and i'm always leaving my emotions out for people to trample upon. i have an addictive personality which means i'm a bottle of thunderbird away from being an alcoholic. i'm a braves fan, which guarantees i'm gonna get fucked up the ass without protection every damn year. now...ARE YOU SATISFIED???"

"just one more question, miss indigo."


"do you want to live?"

"what kind of question is that you silly bank...GUY! of COURSE i want to live. that's kinda why i'm HERE BEGGING YOU FOR MORE TIME!"

"what you speak of is not necessarily living. what you want is to borrow time for the purpose of thinking about living. why ask for more time when you waste it on thinking about what you're going to do instead of using it to go out in the world and actually do it? what is the point of having more time when you spend it so carelessly? obviously it is not valuable enough to you for you to even make a request for additional time. am i concluding correctly?"

"that was more than one question, sir."

"ms. indigo, stop avoiding the issue. this is a matter of the utmost importance."

"whatever. isn't planning important, though? i mean, i can't act if i don't have a plan."

"yes, but how much time do you spend planning, miss indigo?"

"mister bank...whoever the hell you are...all i want is more time. that's all. my request is simple. why are you making this so difficult???"

"because, ms. indigo, our time is the rarest resource on the planet. it cannot be reproduced so we cannot expect to have it returned to us in its original form. we loan out time because it is what we do, but there is little, if any profit from it."

"what do you mean by that? you're a BANK. what kind of bank would exist without profit??"

"i said we make very little profit from it, miss indigo. time does no good in the world if it is not spent with great care and it is only when it is spent with care that we see the benefits from it. unfortunately, out of all of the time we loan out, only a small percentage of people actually use time to their advantage and the world's benefit. we have had to find a way to stay afloat with the efforts of this group of people, but i fear we will reach a point where we will no longer be able to loan out time and will instead be forced to loan out furniture."

"in other words, you need me, too."

"yes, miss indigo...we need you."

"I TOLD YOU! alright, alright! i'll spend it wisely. i'll eat healthier. i'll be more productive with my time. i won't waste it with people who don't value it. i'll try harder to protect myself from hurt. now GIVE ME THE DAMN TIME!"

"ms. indigo, please control your temper. here is the agreement. please read it carefully and sign and initial at the bottom."

i, _________________, do hereby promise to pay back the amount of 86400 seconds in quality time with my family and/or volunteer work with a worthy charitable organization. i can also pay back this time in the act of taking care of myself and using each moment to help me reach my goals. if i fail to honor the terms of this agreement, i will burn in the fires of hell forever.

"don't you think that last part is just a bit harsh, mister bank dude?"

"i do not make the rules, miss. i just enforce them."

every morning i meet with that cat. every morning i sit with pen in hand, pondering whether or not i will commit myself to honoring my time by spending it wisely. i'm hard-headed. sometimes i have a sense of entitlement that has me believing i got plenty of time while at other times i have a sense of impending doom that has me believing i'll meet death with my next breath. or maybe it's that i know i don't have much time but i care too little about it to do anything about it. either way, death is out there in the shadows and i won't be able to elude him forever and he ain't delaying his introduction to me as i continue to waste time sleeping through life, dreaming about what i'm gonna do.

death is creeping closer still. i gotta stop taking these sleeping pills.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

the pubic enemy*

what the fuck?!?

"And now something has happened..."

hol up. that is NOT what i think it is!

"Suddenly, she's been distracted..."

*frantically grabs for the hand mirror*

"By something that has been attracted..."

*clumsily shoves the mirror in between her legs* OUCH!

"She poked and poked and smacked at it..."

*knees and elbows pop as she contorts herself to get a closer look*

"Then she broke down and she scratched it..."


pause...then disbelief


"Now, I think you understand..."



"happy 37th birthday, nik...AHHH!!" screams the hair suddenly.


*also known as 'when getting birthday tweezers is better than getting birthday sex...'

Sunday, August 03, 2008

the story in his visage...

this is the stream of thoughts flowing through my mind as i studied his photo on my phone...

i admit it...i began with his mouth (i'm a lips kinda girl)...

his smile was slung low, sexily suspended from his lips like unbuttoned jeans hanging from angular hips, the tantalizing shadow of his teeth gleaming through a slightly parted mouth.

that smile conjured carnal images...disheveled bedsheets littered with limbs left limp after "loving long time"...deft fingers lingering lovingly within sweaty clefts as his tongue laps languid lines of leisurely persuasion across lush landscape while my lips implore him for more with moist messages massaged into his skin from scrotum to erect peek.

that smile seduced silence into sighing sounds of 'the little death'...breathless 'yes's pressed deep into the mattress of a squeaking bed asscheeks clapping from the slap of his hands as he gasps in response to the grip of my lips when he slides inside between thighs spread wide, riding wild before retreating to skeet upon my back...then the afterglow lit from our giggles of exhausted laughter as we play back the soundtrack to our back fracturing sex.

in other words, that smile was positively explicit...

i suddenly wondered what i'd find in his eyes...

Friday, August 01, 2008

what in the hellanta is going on 'round here?

today is my birthday. i'm 37. i feel...

sorry, got stuck...

my life has changed in so many ways from the last birthday, 100% of it good. i can't believe it. 100% of it good, folk. i got my health, my fam, my love for self and life, and folk around me who love and uplift me. there really is no other gift i could ask for.

except for some back-breaking sex, but that ain't happening *le sigh*

i'm working on that one... :)