thankful thursday

first and foremost, thanks to the creator for giving me life.

thanks to my boy dp for giving me just what i needed when i needed it. i so appreciate your insight and cool head in the midst of what is becoming madness. your words and wisdom were RIGHT.ON.TIME.

i am thankful for the folk who continue to frequent my blog. you get thanks EVERY week.

i am thankful for the patience and self-control i have to get through this time.

i am thankful for the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the gawtdamn truth and the wisdom needed to keep those who don't know about that shit away from me.

i am thankful for the courage to always stand in the face of honesty, even if it means i get to taste my own medicine. BLECH.

i am thankful to my folk who listened to me vent yesterday like a crazy person.

i am thankful for that 2.5 hour conversation that gave me a chance to decompress.

i am thankful for my parents who love me as i hope to one day love my own children.

i am thankful for my little cousin lamount, who without fail knows how to bring a smile to my face every damn time.

i am thankful to my blaquescribe fam who are really getting on my ass and making me stick to the idea of possibly getting a book published. i still don't quite see it happening but at least i no longer think it a complete impossibility.

i am thankful for folk who are cynical enough to question things and intelligent enough to recognize when things don't add up.

have a great thursday folk!

guess what this fool said next...pt. 2 - nikki pimps herself for her blog fam...

part one


then this fool comes in with what has to be the most ridiculous shit ever.

"nikki," he starts off slowly, like he was about to release some real shit, "i just want you to know it wasn't your fault we never got together."

my face shriveled cuz his words were the equivalent of a fart into the wind blowing right at my nose.

for real though...did he just say what i thought he said? did he just say that i'm not supposed to blame myself for him not choosing me? i almost laughed in his face at that one. now mind you, i've pined for many a trife negro in my lifetime, but even i have my limits. i generally refrain from pining after guys overly confident in their game cuz they think the sistas are too stupid or enamored to figure out their lines are trite, insincere, and used for the express purpose of getting at the 'glorious down under'.

i shifted in my seat as i contemplated what i should say next. my first impulse was to respond with an indignant "nigga, please..." but that would have ended this conversation prematurely and i was thinking about how disappointed my blog readers would be if it ended so soon. i decided to play along. a flower of vacuous confusion bloomed upon my features, its petals folded within the lines of my furrowed brow.

"really?" i asked as i dampened the gleam in my eyes just enough to color them insecure, "are you sure?"

fitz looked a bit nonplussed by my sudden shift in mood, but he quickly recovered his arrogance as he slid closer to me and placed his arm across my shoulders. i sat on the shiver of revulsion trying to make it's way up to where he was touching me.

"of course baby," he said in a soft, placating voice, "it had nothing to do with you. it was me."

okay, there was an opening right there. i could answer him with a "as if there was any doubt" but again, i had to hold my hand close to my vest to see what this nut was gonna toss out onto the table next.

"i'm so glad it wasn't my fault," i uttered, my 'relief' swishing through the words as i exhaled shakily, "i was afraid you'd stop talking to me because i wasn't good enough for you..."

he crooned, a sad look on his face as he said to me "not at all..."

can i say it took everything within me to not roll my eyes right there in his face? this was almost too good to be true. i was tempted to look around for the camera letting me know i was on one of those shows where actors do outrageous shit to see how the victim of the prank reacts. his speech and manner had 'cue card' written all over it. i stepped up my method acting.

cue my faux self-deprecation

"me? i was shocked you even took my number back then," i said, "i know i was a bit uncouth..."

cue his really bloated ego

"yeah, well i saw a diamond in the rough..."

sidebar: now truth be told, i was beautiful ten years ago too, although i wasn't as assured about it as i am today. i had a gig and my own spot and was handling mine though, so i knew i had the goods. meanwhile this cat, while charismatic, wasn't working and was living with roommates. back then i didn't hold a brotha's unemployment against him. i figure he was just oppressed enough by 'da man' to where it made his search for gainful employment a difficult task. these days i tell a mofo to bounce with that boosheet cuz bur.ger kin.g is always hiring.

cue my faux appreciation for him taking pity on my piece of coal black ass

"a diamond? truly?" i exclaimed as my eyes widened and i looked at him wearing a mask of hero worship over my sarcasm, "was i flawless enough for a platinum setting?"

sidebar: um, so the mask slipped just a little and an edge of the sarcasm was peeking out from under it. he looked at me a bit skeptically, as though he wasn't sure if i was being serious or not. i leaned into him and placed my hand on his thigh cuz i figure if my hand was close to his penis he'd be so busy thinking about the possibilities he won't see my performance for the fake shit it was.

of course that maneuver worked.

his smile broadened and he leaned in...

cue his weak ass attempt at wooing me

"you know, i thought about you alot over the years..."

cue the faux fragile smile unfurling from my lips like a bud opening beneath the sunshine of his regard (while the roots of my disdain burrowed deep in soil made up of his bullshit)

"i don't know what to say..."

"don't say anything..."

sidebar: now in dramas this is when the guy is cued to lower his head slowly, his lips inching closer and closer to hers as the air around them ignites in anticipation of the burning kiss to come. however, this was a sitcom...

cue punch line

"fitz..." i said softly as i watched his lips get closer and closer, the smell of henn and ass hovering around us like a sour cloud of liquored up buttcrack.

"hmmm?" he was looking at my lips as he whispered.

"what the fuck are you doing?"

"shhhhh...don't talk...just let it happen..."

and then right before his lips touched mine i had my hand up, palm in his face. all i needed was the sound effects for a car coming to a screeching halt and it would have been the stereotypical 'indignant black woman putting the brakes on a trife negro' moment in a movie centered in 'da hood', featuring an all-black cast with at least one rapper.

"dude..." i stood up and looked at him, laughing at his stunned expression, "...get over yourself."

jeru the damaja's voice echoed in my mind as i turned and strutted away from him

"with all that big willie talk, hop, you're, playin yaself
with all that big gun talk, bop, you're, playin yaself
with all that rah rah rah, you're, playin yaself
you're, playin yaself, you're, playin yaself"

guess what this fool said next...pt. 1

a while back i went to apache cafe' with a girlfriend of mine. we were there for the spoken word taking place that night. so we're walking into the joint and we hear this cat speaking (to us evidently):

"oh...look at this beautiful woman coming in here!"

followed by...

"oh...another even MORE beautiful woman is stepping in right behind her!"

i rolled my eyes and looked up to see a tall brotha in shadow, so i couldn't make out his face. first off, i can dig getting a compliment from a brotha on my looks (i mean, i am beautiful after all), but there was just something about the tone in his voice that let me know he was used to giving away compliments like a prostitute gives away pussy...without thought and very cheaply.

so candice and i walk into the spot and notice immediately it was dark and crowded so we wouldn't have anywhere to sit. while i would have preferred a table, it was all good cuz in the meanwhile there were plenty of nice looking brothas lining the walls and what sista in her right mind is gonna have a problem with that? candice and i took our places along the wall and look towards the stage where this sista was basically screaming her head off and dancing around frantically. while i didn't have a clue as to what she was trying to communicate i gave her props for being up there and doing her thing. somebody in there was bound to feel her, even though i knew it wasn't gonna be me.

we're standing there watching the performance when our view is blocked by the same tall cat who had come to us with the bullshit at the front door. this time, the lighting from behind the bar hit him square in the face and i could see him.

oh SHIT i could see him.

and lawd, i knew the bastid.

i don't mean i knew him in the biblical sense, nor do i mean i knew him in that 'get a mushy feeling for seeing an old love' sense either. no, i mean i knew him in that 'aww HELL nah...not THIS negro' sense..

he starts talking to candice first. i have no idea what he's saying to her. then he turns to me and i look at him and start frowning. no need to let the brotha think he even stands a chance.

before he could even get his words out of his mouth, i spoke.

"i remember you."

he raised his eyebrows in surprise, his eyes looking at me while i could tell his mind was feverishly trying to remember a face he hadn't seen in over ten years.

"you know me?" he asked incredulously.

"uh, yeah. your name starts with an 'f' or something."

"yeah, it's fitz," he responded, viewing me skeptically. a moment later, recognition dawned on his face and his mouth curved into a cheezy grin.

"oh YEAH! nikki, right?"

i rolled my inner eyes this time, not wanting to be rude to his face.

"yeah," i replied.

now all of a sudden the brotha has changed his entire steelo. he went from superficial smarmy to intimate smarmy, like we had some kind of shared history he wanted to remember with me. you know how it goes down...brotha slides his hands across my shoulder, leans in close like he's about to deliver the million dollar answer to all my dreams, then gets straight to the game of talking shit. i shuddered.

"niiiiiikkiiiiiiii," he starts off, "you were the sista that got away..."

what the fuck? what kind of bullshit is this?

"dude, do you have me mixed up with some other nikki?," i asked with a cynical smirk on my face, "cuz you making this way more than what it was."

he started grinning even more broadly. oh shit, what the fuck is that about? he leans in, i guess for effect, then replied.

"i was young back then, nikki." his voice was all low and shit like he was trying to seduce me right there in the fucking club. really, does this shit still work with women? did it ever?

"yup, you were."

he's still grinning.

"so can i have a moment of your time?"

i stared up at him. okay, i could cut his ass of at the quick right now or i could hear what he's saying and cut his ass off later. curiosity got the better of me so i decided to hear what he had to say (aiight, so part of me was like "this will be some good shit to write about in my blog." see what i put myself through to entertain you people?)

we head to the back of the club, step outside into the covered lounge area, and find some seating.

he turns to me and starts with the spiel.

"you look beautiful tonight."

it took alot of effort for my mouth not to curl into a smirk.

"yes, i know."

he laughed softly and started shaking his head slowly.

"dang, girl," he said, "you ain't gonna give a brotha no quarter, are you?"

"am i supposed to?" i answered.

"what happened between us was over ten years ago!"

"true," i responded matter-of-factly, "so why mention it?"

he settled into his seat next to me and leaned forward.

"because i want to explain to you what a brotha was going through at the time we met."

"and that's important now because..."

"because i was thinking maybe we could start over."

have you ever been around someone who put way too much stock in some shit that you barely gave a passing glance to? like, he thought you two were writing the next great symphony together while you thought it was a cheap jingle for a hair vacuum. i sat there for a moment and digested what he said.

"start over?" i asked cautiously, "what's there to start over?"

"i'm saying," he replied, "what we had was special."

he reached for my hand and squeezed it, an earnest look on his face. i started racking my brain trying to figure out what he was talking about. special? what kind of standards did this guy have anyway? was it 'special' to him cuz i actually gave him my real number? was it 'special' to him because i actually picked up the phone when he called? really...when i say there was nothing going on there, there was NOTHING going on. meanwhile, he was acting like we were a step away from being married. he leans in closer and i covertly lean away from him, cuz he'd been drinking and his breath smelled liked henn-assy.

guess what this fool said next?!?

.....

if you wanna read a moving tribute to trish check rashan. brotha always writes better when there's some genuine emotion pigmenting his think.

_________________

so this entry here ain't a tribute to the dead, it's a tribute to the living

tenacious - she didn't fight it because her body wasn't her adversary. she was strong enough to find the rhythm of its movement through her and dance with it until she decided it was time to change partners
resilient - even as her body shifted in its shape and an invasion expanded her suffering, i always recognized the face and form of her spirit, as it never changed
inspirational - many of us bought seeds from the garden of her mind to plant within our blogs beautiful blooms of introspection and personal growth
spiritual - her love for her god was undeniable and awe-inspiring and showed alot of us what unconditional love really is
here - she didn't go anywhere...

she's that nudge you need in the morning to get you up when all you wanna do is sleep
she's that unfettered giggle you hear bubble up and spill from a toddler's lips
she's your favorite song that comes on the radio at that exact moment you need to hear it
she's that sunshine breaking through the clouds after days of rain
she's that flower you find growing underneath a feet of snow
she's those moments when happiness just happens and you don't know how or why
she's that truth you don't wanna hear but need to in order to be better at being you
she's that forgiveness you need when all you wanna do is suck upon bitter seeds
she's that love you pull out of the closet and wrap around those folk who need that cloak the most

she's here.

and as long as there is goodness and beauty in this world, she'll always be here.

so continue to be good and beautiful, fam ;)


oh...and fuck that goodbye shit. this here is a hello...

wassup girl...i see you over there pouring the light of your smile into my sunrise :)
keep on cheezing
then breathe...
cuz i find comfort in the movement of your breeze

thanks and all that stuff right dea...

thank you for the nigga-rigged d-tv my folk have which will allow me to check out the game on the nfl netw.ork tomorrow night

thank you for my mom, who actually has faith in my cooking abilities and is gonna let me cook the entire meal tomorrow! can you say 'soul food' moment? i'm throwin DOWN folk!

thank you for the patience to deal with some of the folk who will be there tomorrow when i know damn well i won't want them there

thank you to the folk who came over here, took the indians' land, spread disease and death among those folk and then had the nerve to be like "now let's sit down and break bread together on 'my' land" if not for you all, i'd have no idea what the term 'irony' meant...or the phrase 'ain't that a bitch' for that matter...

thank you michael richards for reminding me racism ain't just alive and well, it's thriving cuz it grows within the shadows. now i know where to point and spray.

thank you for whatever it was that has me waking up this morning feeling like i really CAN cook a shitload of food

thank you g.mo for that pie recipe. i'm gonna be baking that one tonight

thank you jerry seinfi.eld, for forcing michael to go on let.ter.man and basically give us the "i've got afro-american friends so i'm not racist" speech while looking like someone had shoved something cold and sharp up his ass...a fork perhaps?

thank you for the chopping apparatus that will allow me to chop up alot of onions and green peppers and other stuff for the homemade dressing so i won't have to sit there for an hour doing it by hand with a knife

thank you for my boss sending me a long ass email starting with this sentence right here..."I will be out of the office until Friday December 1.", as if i'd read the rest after that. who cares? just be gone dude.

thank you for de ex handling biz and making a sista feel like maybe there is a chance. can i say you representing with a fierceness?

thank you for my brother who i get to talk to everyday, even if it's just to say "nothing going on here in da cut...i'll hit you up tomorrow"

thank you for my little cuz lamount, who stopped by the 'rents house on sunday and watched the nfl package with me. that kid actually knocked on the bathroom door to tell me when my fantasy league player had scored. i love that little boy!

thank you for that nfl package, which was like experiencing multiple orgasms

thank you for the 'rents, who took care of me this weekend like i was still their baby :)

thank you for the health and wealth of my friends and fam

thank you god for giving me everything i need to be everything i am and wanna be

thank you for reading, folk

have a great holiday!

something new

i've known this man about fifteen years. fifteen years of friendship i'd never trade for anything.

this, despite the fact our conversations always end up slicing up the same subject matter.

see, this cat is a 30-something year old semi-virgin. i mean, i think he had sex somewhere in his life, although i'm not sure when. i do know the number of times wouldn't be larger than the number of fingers he's got on one hand though.

so inevitably, any discussion we have will transform into a lament about his lack of sexual activity. it happens at times when i think i've safely got him occupied with thoughts of something else, times when i'm thinking to myself "maybe THIS time i won't hear about his girl troubles..." and then BAM! a discussion about atlanta's running backs will somehow mutate into this requiem about a girl he liked who he thought might be 'the one' and instead turns out to be yet another one who broke his heart.

now as his friend, i'm obligated to sit there and listen to him every now and again. however, it's gotten to the point where i no longer know what to say to him. i've tried everything. when he first started with sharing his problems with me about ten years ago, i was like "man, the women in atlanta don't know what they're missing! don't worry...they'll come around."

then it became "dude, so what if that sista isn't the most attractive thing out there? she's willing to give up the ass right? shit, then go for it!"

which turned into "you know what? i'm gonna buy you some pussy for your birthday so you can get some. maybe if you get that under your belt, you can move forward."

which then evolved into "aiight, it's been how many years with this same conversation between us? look...it's obvious you have self-esteem issues, cuz i know some conventionally unattractive guys out there who get so much pussy they gotta give some away just so they can keep up, so i KNOW it ain't about looks..."

and finally ended with the advice i gave him last week "dude...have you tried counseling? i think you should look into that because at this point there is something about you that is making the task of having someone in your life an impossibility."

as the years went on, my belief in his lack of self-esteem was confirmed as i watched him time and again get caught up in some girl only to watch himself become the 'designated friend the girl he digs calls to talk about the guys she digs.' i watched as he became more and more bitter towards black women, getting to the point where he was like "i'm gonna date white women if it's gonna get me a girlfriend..." only white women weren't digging him either and that left him embittered with all women.

it's not like he's an unappealing guy. he has some interests that might not place him in the realm of choice coochie, but i know plenty of comic book and anime fan boys who get some on the regular so it's possible. he's a talented writer and quite observant when he wants to be. he just can't seem to get over that hump to get to humping.

so having said all that, i think it's time i give a few pointers on those things heterosexual women like about guys because i'm sure there are more women out there like me...women who have a male friend who is bringing her down with his constant lamentation about the lack of intimate female companionship.

ten things heterosexual women dig in their men:

1. CONFIDENCE. i don't think i can stress this one enough. this is the foundation of everything when a guy is interacting with me. a guy who is confident and self-assured is gonna get digits, which leads to getting dates, which leads to getting coochie. and it's not just about the approach, cuz there are plenty of confident guys who are just shy so i don't place alot of importance on the 'pick up' (although a guy gets extra credit if he does it in a way where i don't even realize i'm being picked up). it's about how he carries himself during that initial conversation. does he keep the eye contact or does his eyes shift around to land on items around me? if he can't keep eye contact, i'm thinking he's either way insecure or he's shady. either way, i want none of it. however, don't confuse confidence with being overly arrogant and obnoxious. last thing i need is a guy who thinks the sun rises and sets in the crack of his ass. i want him confident enough that he's comfortable in his skin, not too confident where he thinks everything he says and does should be transcribed in gold onto parchment, bound in leather, and sold as the modern day version of the bible.

2. engaging conversation. this ain't about him being a chatterbox. i actually prefer the strong silent type, but even if the brotha doesn't say much, what he say should count. he should be insightful, and i don't mean in that "i'm gonna preach to you what's fucked up with black people"way, either. don't come with the obvious shit that everybody knows about. a woman digs a guy who thinks on his own plane, someone who has observations and opinions that come from his own mind and aren't parroted phrases fed to him from folk around him.

3. don't make it all about the sex. i love to flirt. love it, love it, LOVE IT. meanwhile, if all a guy has to talk about is how he's gonna fuck me, he's pretty much guaranteed he won't be fucking me. if i wanna talk about sports or spirituality, i don't want the brotha twisting every word i say into sexual innuendo. if i hear one more brotha try to make a sexual joke out of 'wide receiver' or 'wide out' or tight end' i'm gonna scream. i wanna know he isn't just looking at me and seeing tits and ass and a sperm recepticle.

4. care. sounds relatively simple, and yet for some it's the hardest shit to do. i mean he should care about something or someone other than himself. care enough to do more than just complain about shit. care enough to do something about it.

5. don't look at us with stars in your eyes. it's one thing to look at me and think i'm the best thing that ever happened to you. it's another thing to look at me and think i'm mother theresa. i promise you i'll be knocked off that pedestal with a quickness as soon as you're hanging around me for the first time during that time of the month. BELIEVE dat. this one is mad important because the guys who are blind to women as real human beings with flaws are the ones who end up being the 'designated friends'. think about it...a guy who doesn't challenge the chick but instead co-signs everything she says and does is much better as a friend she can go to when she wants her fucked up behavior justified than the guy she's gonna make her boyfriend. you'd be no better than a pet, really.

6. have confidence in us. the flip side to number 5 is that a brotha shouldn't be contrary all the time. sistas don't want a dude who questions EVERY damn thing. this implies he has no confidence in a sista's ability to get the job done, has no trust in her as an adult who can make good decisions. being a female comes with its own strengths because of the unique experiences we've had as females. recognize that shit and respect it.

7. we are not your enemy. don't look at me and see the girl who cheated on you or the sista who laughed at what she thought were your shortcomings. i'm brand new to you and deserve the clean slate that affords.

8. be observant. if i say i think flowers on valentines day is corny and unoriginal, don't send me flowers on valentines day. i will not be thinking "well, seeing as they're from HIM they're not corny." no, i'll be thinking "this corny mothafucka sent me flowers just like the rest of the unoriginal brothas out there." if the conversation includes enough questions, a brotha should have alot of clues as to how to keep that sista interested cuz believe it or not, we ain't trying to keep that information from you. we WANT you to know, so we can avoid those moments when we get a wool sweater for christmas months after we told you we were allergic to wool.

9. don't sacrifice who you are and what you believe in to get a sista to dig you. i don't care what anyone has told you, that shit ain't romantic. now it's one thing to broaden your mind and perhaps be able to view a situation or belief from another point of view. however, if you're a baptist and she's atheist, don't go atheist unless that's something you wanted to do anyway. do you and find someone who's cool with you as you are. don't go trying to flip your shit cuz you see your 'dream girl' and want to be the man she desire. that shit NEVA works. you can respect the differences and still have a chance at her.

10. be real. tell and expect the truth. don't play games cuz we ain't kids.

i think that's about it. how about i thought this entry would be mad short? man, i'm verbose even when i don't mean to be...

anyway, i hope this helps my boy out. no doubt he'll read this. please know i don't write this entry to belittle you. i write this entry cuz something's gotta give, dude. something new gotta happen...

first thought this morning...

"UGH...alarm clock...off...thirty more minutes..."

second thought, after being in kiddie pool sleep and turning to glance blearily at the clock 25 minutes later...

"UGH...ten more..."

third thought, after opening my eyes and really seeing the time on the clock 20 minutes later...

"SHIT SHIT SHIT SHIT"

fourth thought, after stumbling out of bed and fumbling around to turn on the heater in the semi-darkness...

"...HATE...this time of year...."

fifth thought, as i twist my body to turn on the shower from the toilet where i'd just tinkled...

"man, i need to wash this tub. it's filthy..."

sixth thought, during my scramble to find something to wear...

"where the FUCK is my green turtleneck?!?"

seventh thought, while i'm in the living room getting dressed and watching mike & mike...

"greenberg has lips like a black man for real..."

other thoughts i had this morning:

"MAN, i wish it was a little darker out here so my eyes could adjust..." (as i stepped outside into the light after doing everything in the dark in my spot.)

"SHIT SHIT SHIT!..." (after i turned on the car and was greeted with what had to be a 1000 decibel rendition of the roots 'here i come'.)

"oh HELL nah, i gotta get in front of that bus or i'm gonna be stuck behind it..." (after i noticed the mar.ta bus coming and a shitload of cars crawlign slowly behind it like a funeral procession.)

"i feel your pain, brotha..." (as i watched a bundled up young black man pimping quickly in the cold towards his destination.)

"nice car...i wonder who's driving it?" (as i drove behind a black sedan.)

"oh damn...that's too bad..." (as i drove next to the black sedan and saw who was in the driver's seat.)

"this car betta not be 'bout ta cut in front of me..." (as i'm on the expressway, tightly tucked in between a moving van and an suv.)

"i KNEW that negro wass gonna cut in front of me!" (as that damn golf squeezed it's little ass in between me and the moving van.)

"i gotta stop at the store and get some juice or something" (after i swallowed and realized how dry my throat was.)

"and good morning to you too with ya fine ass..." (after the cute construction working brotha held the door open for me and said 'good morning beautiful')

"aiight, don't look back nikki, just strut to the car..." (after i felt his eyes on my jean-clad ass as i walked past him and heard him utter 'damn!')

"and with six minutes to spare!" (while i'm on the elevator heading to my office.)

"what the hell am i gonna write about today?" (about twenty minutes ago...)

thankful thursday

i am grateful and thankful

to God for granting me the strength of mind, wisdom, and life's breath needed to greet a new sunrise.

for the insight necessary to analyze my own behavior and motivations and the courage to recognize when it's not being utilized towards a positive goal. no excuses there. that wasn't someone else, that was me in all my undignified glory. the only thing i can apologize for is the fact that i vented in someone else's space. i won't apologize for what was said here or there though, cuz the truth is the truth.

for the humility needed to accept the observations of other folk who check my behavior when it ain't kosher. sometimes it takes the objective view of someone on the outside to put a person back on the right track.

for roycesdaughter and tjeanise who have enough wisdom and maturity to let me know when i'm acting like i lack those same qualities.

for people having the courage to say how they really feel, even if it takes an attack on one's character to do so. makes the world a cleaner place in which people are educated with honesty and can choose to surround him or herself with people who say what they mean and mean what they say. that's an empowering thing.

for crisp breezes and snapping winds and thunderstorms to remind me that even mother nature can get tempermental every now and again.

for the people who make the choice to read my blog when you could be doing something way more productive than reading the rants of a sarcastic sista. your words of encouragement and praise humble me and uplift my spirits (or douse my ego when necessary too.)

for having the means to assist my brother when he needs it. he's one of the few people in the world who'd get my last dime without a second thought from me.

for my blaquescriber fam...that chat last night opened my eyes to so many possibilities and empowered me with knowledge.

for scarlettrae who was there at just the right time with her compassion, understanding, candor, and sincere desire to aid me in my quest for clarity. talking to you reminds me how important it is to really filter out those folk who are not on the same page with me spiritually and emotionally and morally.

for stiltwalker, for her ear and patience. when it really comes down to it, the sista came through like a champ.

for tenacious, who's creativity and brilliant sense of humor always makes me laugh. if you are down folk, check out her blog. no doubt you'll find yourself in better spirits in no time. mind you, her entries are longer than most books, but it's worth it ;)

for 'dan.cing wi.th the sta.rs', cuz for the first time in a while my mom and i were able to talk about something other than family issues. it was cool sitting there listening to her scream when she found out emmitt won.

for the strong stomach needed to witness o.j. make a complete ass of himself yet again with his new book. man, i never really questioned his sanity until i checked that move. really, a person gotta be insane to do what he's doing. no other answer for it...

for the daily conversations i have with the people who care about me and vice versa.

for him, who time and again find new ways of leaving me in awe. i see you growing luv, and it's a beautiful thing to witness.

we're still here, folk. what a wonderful place to be.

it's in the signs...

i was in mcdonalds this morning waiting in line to buy an artery-clogging, niggeritis-inducing, constipation catalyzing sau.sage mcm.uff.in with egg and cheese when i just so happen to glance up and see a sign dangling right next to me from the ceiling above. it read:

"our purpose is to serve you hot and nutritious food..."

and i didn't even get to the rest of it cuz i was too busy laughing my ass off at the complete ludicriousness of that statement (i'm not even sure if ludicriousness is a damn word but it applies to this shit here so it's brand new if it ain't)

nutritious? NUTRITIOUS?

i won't even address the fact that more times than not the food is hardly ever hot, but you take your chances with that one. however, that part about nutritious was a straight up bonafide bald-faced lie. i mean a lie on the level of "we're over there on a humanitarian mission" or "i did not have sexual relations with that woman" or "the atla.nta fal.cons can win the super bowl without a passing attack"...

wait...that last one ain't really a lie...i mean, if vick completes the short passes with a play action fake, then he'll make the defense respect the pass, thus opening the running lanes. therefore technically, he only needs to complete about ten short passes with a couple of long ones sprinkled in the mix for the offense to be on point. i mean, he's already got the play action option down to a science, but i digress...

anywho...

in my quest to figure out the truth behind the advertising, i figure i'd put together a number of honest signage to assist the contituents and consumers out there looking for the real deal from their people and products.

sign outside of oval office:

"our purpose is to first tell you a lie about our own involvement in ter.rori.stic activity, then scare the shit out of you by saying an oil-rich middle-eastern country has weapons of mass destruction, then pull a 'my bad', to which we know you'll forgive us because after all, we're human, right?"

sign outside of doctor's office:

"our purpose is to ask you a few questions, speculating about what it is you have (kinda like the traders do stock, only in this case it'salways a bullshit market) then use our degrees in medicine to come up with all kind of exotic possibilities before peddling pharmaceuticals on your unsuspecting ass so we can receive the kick backs necessary to afford that brand new 7-series mercedes out there in the parking lot."

sign outside of car dealership:

"our purpose is to lull you into a false sense of security by lavishing you with compliments about your intelligence and taste before we exploit your obvious stupidity during the negotiations over the car payments, eventually convincing you to sign a contract stipulating you pay $550 a month for 36 months for a 1990 toy.ota tercel and $753.50 for 'handling fees' which in fact is basically the fee for sitting here talking to you for an hour and basically handing you your ass before sticking you in a car that is guaranteed to break down right after the ten day wait period is over."

sign outside of crackhouse:

"our purpose is to sell you drugs we know will turn you into an addict willing to sell your every earthly possession for a taste of this fake escape before reducing you to a dick-sucking, toothless and twitching corner clown for everybody in the neighborhood to point and laugh at you while your mom changes the locks so you can't easily enter her house and steal her shit, thus forcing you to rob her, eventually killing your uncle during one of your 'episodes' before we send someone to kill you because you tried to pawn off the dvd player you stole from our momma after we bought it for her with the money you stole from your momma to buy the drugs we sold to you."

sign outside of my ex-boyfriend's house:

"my purpose is to meet you, tell you i love you, then proceed to make your life a living hell for the next two years as i do stupid shit like sell drugs, steal your money (cuz i'm too stupid to realize i'm not supposed to smoke the product) and sleep around on your ass, giving you the clap in the process, thus stripping you of every inch of trust you ever thought to have in another man and insuring your future is full of relationships bound for failure because you can't help but remember just how thoroughly i screwed you over."

sign outside of non-profit office:

"our purpose is to raise money for the sole purpose of sustaining the lives we've become accustomed to enjoying while leading the community to believe we actually give a shit about the peasants who utilize our services, peasants we barely tolerate yet seek to make dependent upon our services so that we always have a job, even if that means never empowering a single one of those motherfuckas."

sign outside of republican party national office:

"our purpose is to convince the public that racism doesn't exist and that in fact there is a level playing field and if a person doesn't succeed it's only due to his or lack of character, not because someone sees them as inferior because even though many of us have an aversion to black people it has more to do with the fact that they're poor than the fact that they're black, and they're poor because they're just lazy but we do need their vote in some areas and so we accept the ever-present token tom willing to embrace our philosophy of destroying their communities by thinking the inhabitants are little more than rutting animals who need our 'guidance' in order to become a success in our society."

sign outside of democratic party national office:

"our purpose is to convince the public that we care about everyone of every color and class, pandering to the black community by attending a few of their churches and kissing a few of their babies and attending the n.aacp convention because after all, those have proven to be the most effective way to endear us to them and ensure we receive their vote which is cost-effective because the effort of actually putting legislation on the books that would address their concerns regarding socio-economic inequality would require we actually hold ourselves accountable for the shit we say to them in the heat of a sunday sermon when we adopt their manner of speech and say shit like 'president bush is wack' cuz we know the young black people love it when we talk like them and even though we know their asses won't vote right now, in about a decade they'll be yet another generation of black folk willing to accept our miniscule attention as proof we really care enough to assist them in empowering their communities."

sign outside a hip-hop video shoot:

"our purpose it to create a video that will divert your attention from the complete lack of talent of the artist involved which requires we utilize the talents of hos with big tits and asses willing to wear little more than bras and panties and exploit their god-given natural gifts for the priviledge of sucking the dick of said artist while in the presence of his boys, which will go a long way in proving his street cred and garner him acolades among the set of criminals, unemployed, and drug-addicted populace of his community while also guaranteeing the young female population who see his music video will be convinced the only thing they have to offer a black man is her pride and her pussy, both of which she will become more than willing to give to him eagerly in order to prove her worth to society."

shit...i could go on all day with this, so i'm gonna stop before my sarcasm cuts through this blog and it's irreparable. LOL

i'm sure you can think of some of your own signs for various folk. what you got?

you were right...

this association can't be salvaged. you are not my friend and i am no longer yours. my friend wouldn't time and time again mistrust me based on the bullshit of hearsay after i've showed him nothing but loyalty from day one. my friend wouldn't turn pussy and avoid coming to me to get the deal, cuz my friend would be a fucking adult. my friend wouldn't say shit behind my back that he can't confirm, nor would he always assume the worst about me. he wouldn't ignore my attempts to clarify misunderstandings.

so you're right.

you're not my friend.

please note the sound of me cutting you out of my fucking life. (if you bother to listen)

please note how painless that shit is to me, kinda like lancing off an irritating boil. (if you bother to accept the truth)

please note this fucking entry IS about you. (if you bother to have the courage to read this shit)

please note that from here on, i will no longer devote not one syllable, not one fucking word, not one thought, to your fucking existence. (if you bother to recognize the finality of this move right here)

please note my email and my instructions, cuz i don't plan on contacting you ever again. (and i want you to bother on this point right here, cuz i really don't want to have to email your ass again and tell you to take my shit offa your shit)

please delete me and everything associated with me, from your brain. no doubt you might be feeling a bit contrite right now, but frankly, i don't give a fuck.

cuz with friends like you, i almost wish i had enemies. then i'd know what it felt like to be treated better than this. no, i don't blame you completely for it, cuz i know the part i played in it, but here's the deal...a friend would have my back.

and now i realize your ass NEVER did.

bus boy pt. 2

click here for part 1 to this tale


i'd tried everything.

stroked it, kissed it, washed it...nothing seemed to work.

it simply would not grow.

it wouldn't have been fair for me to blame him for what was so obviously not his fault, but right then i was remembering that scene from will.y won.ka when willy first appeared on screen with that limp. it was alluded he was carrying a 'third leg' if you get my meaning, which was evidently too cumbersome for the dude to stuff into his drawers, so he had to let it lay against his leg instead. every time they showed willy from that point on, i was staring at his crotch to see if i could make out an imprint or something. as i lay on the bed between bus boy's legs, trying in vain to pump a few extra inches into what was undoubtedly the smallest penis i'd ever seen on a grown man, i heard maur.y povi.ch's voice inside my head announcing to me in scandalized tones "willy wonk.a...you are NOT the father!"

a frown lassoed my lips and refuse to release them.

this predicament had me thinking back on when i babysat my month-old cousin earlier that year. i had placed him in a baby seat that would allow me to give him a bath over the kitchen sink. i marveled at how small all of his body parts were, from his tiny little fingers with their tiny little nails to his tiny little feet topped with tiny little toes. all that tinyness just made him all the more cute, like a tiny little doll. i remembered looking at his wee wee and thinking to myself "look at his wee wittle wee wee...it's so adorable!"...right before he pee-ed into my face. he was such a diminutive little thing. baby parts are cute on babies.

they are not cute on grown folk, i thought to myself with a sigh.

i lay there, distraught over my unfortunate circumstances as i stared at bus boy's wee wittle wee wee held between my thumb and forefinger much like it'd be if i were changing his diaper. i felt him rustling impatiently above me.

"why'd you stop?" he asked incredulously, his breath coming in gasps. obviously he was completely unaware of my dilemma, too caught up in what i suspected was the rare occasion when a sista had ventured far enough to put his dick between her lips. i looked up into his eyes and hoped he didn't see through the lie i was about to spit.

"i got a piece of your pubic hair in my teeth and it's bugging the shit outta me," i sputtered as i shimmied to the edge of the bed and quickly stood. "i gotta get rid of this thing or it's gonna bug me the rest of the night."

i damn near ran to the bathroom.

closing the door, i stopped it right before it would have slammed against the frame. i exhaled a long breath as i put down the toilet seat and plopped down onto it. placing my head in my hands, i ran my mind across all of the times over the previous month where we'd kissed, all of the times i'd caressed his crotch and was disheartened cuz i thought my kisses weren't turning him on enough for him to develop a chubby. while a part of me was now elated at the realization he was probably harboring a hard on during those intense make out sessions, i wanted to kick myself for not noticing the obvious signs of his lack of a generous endowment.

never once during those sessions had he encouraged me to put my hands in his pants. usually that's one of the first things a brotha does when he gets caught up in the kissing. he wants to be stroked. shit, he can't wait to get a sista's hands on it. i mean, making out is a choreographed line dance of hand and mouth movement. the lips are the first participants, then the hands join in. there's the groping of the tits, squeezing of the ass, and eventually the hands end up in the pants. it's like the electric slide of lips and limbs.

meanwhile, i'd stumbled through my make out sessions with bus boy like an uncoordinated novice cuz he made a point of keeping his hands out of my pants, which dictated i keep my hands out of his. he'd been a good kisser though, so i hadn't complained too much. i'm just saying...there's a natural rhythm to these things and he had fucked up the rotation.

and now i knew why.

he had a wee wittle wee wee.

and now he was comfortable enough to share his shortcomings with me. SHIT.

his penchant for powdering his balls suddenly became a trivial thing in light of this major development.

"you aiight in there?" he asked anxiously, his voice muffled as he stood outside of the bathroom door.

"i'm cool," i responded with forced lightness, "i'll be out in a sec. this hair is proving to be a nuisance to get out."

"if you need it, the floss is in the medicine cabinet." a second later i heard the bed creaking as he resumed his position on it.

i stood up and opened the medicine cabinet, groaning softly as i deliberated over my choices. i could either go back to the equivalent of licking on a tic tac, using my superior oral skills to bring this session to an end as quickly as possible, or i could make up an excuse to get the fuck up outta there. i suddenly knew how that guy felt. you know that guy...the one who went down on his girl only to discover her vagina smelled like a sewer. i mean, do you stay down there and just hold your nose (or in my case, fantasize about having my mouth around something larger, like a vienna sausage), or do you make up some lame excuse cuz you know you ain't fucking with them anymore anyway so what do you care if they believe the lie or not?

only he was a pretty cool dude. we had alot in common and he made me laugh. he was a phenomenal kisser and could make a conversation flow so smoothly the words were coated in butter as they slide effortlessly from his lips. yet no matter how many attributes bus boy had, there was only one thought that kept repeating itself over and over in my head.

he's got a wee wittle wee wee.

he's got a wee wittle wee wee.

he's got a wee wittle wee wee.

girl, you can't fuck with a guy with a wee wittle wee wee!

this was not an dilemma born in vanity, folk. i'm a sista with meat on her bones and my parts are definitely of the grown folk variety. putting his dick in my mouth wasn't the worst of it. i mean, i've had small things in my mouth before. if i can manage a straw, i can suck his dick like it was a pixie stick and keep that shit moving. no, this was about the whole 'grown woman's vagina being poked by said pixie stick.' it would involve alot of faking like i felt that shit when the only thing clueing me in on that fact it was even inserted would have been his face contorted in ecstasy cuz i know i wouldn't feel a thing.

did i really want to take the farce that far?

looking at the unused floss wrapped around my middle finger, i quickly came to a decision as i heard his restless movements out in the bedroom.

i stepped out of the bathroom and made my way slowly to the bed.

"did you get it out?" he asked, his voice laced with anticipation, a crooked smile in place on his face.

"yup," i replied as i took in the sight of him still naked from the waist down, legs spread, his 'little friend' sticking straight up in between them like a tiny finger flicking the bird at me.

let me make this shit as quick as possible.

i gave him a sultry grin, slid my body between his legs, and wrapped my lips around his dick, engulfing it to the base. i smelled the faintest wisp of baby powder, but at this point i was intent on my mission...get him to spit so i could split.

i closed my eyes and created a vision in my mind. his dick was now that pixie stick, and i was gonna suck out the sweet treat inside. i ran my tongue around it, massaging the head with my mouth. i caressed the balls, noting the absence of any powder-like substance (we'd had that discussion early on, so he knew what to do when the time came). i kept this up for a few minutes before i felt his hands gripping the back of my head frantically as his hips leapt from the bed. he started grinding my head into his crotch. it wasn't long before he made his announcement and exploded in my mouth. i heard his toes popping as he curled them in response to the fierceness of his orgasm. i swallowed, then rolled over, away from him.

can i go home now?

i felt dirty. i mean, it was so small i almost felt like he wasn't old enough to have his dick in my mouth. i knew then it was over. i thought i'd be able to deal with it, but i couldn't. it was just too small. i felt bad about my decision, but i knew i'd feel worse if i continued seeing him. i wearily closed my eyes.

the only sound was his labored breathing as he tried to collected his senses.

"what time is is?" i asked nonchalantly.

he glanced at the clock on his nightstand.

"ten twenty-three" he responded breathlessly.

"damn," i said, "i still have that paper to finish. i better get home or i'm gonna be up all night working on that shit."

i peeked at him through partially closed eyes to see his expression. his eyes were closed and the brotha looked like he was falling asleep.

"i don't think i can move," he finally replied sleepily, "you wore a nigga out!"

"dude, you laid there while your dick was being sucked and then you ejaculated," i said dryly, "where in that scenario did you put in enough work to be 'worn out'?"

he chuckled, his eyes still closed.

"you don't know how much stamina a brotha need to lay there and cum like that."

i smiled at that, cuz it was easy to smile around this cat, regardless of his dick size.

"remind me to make you put in all the work the next time."

oh shit, did i just imply there'd be a next time? i was SLIPPIN! SHIT SHIT SHIT

"if you stick around, i'll return the favor. let's see who's worn out at the end..."

hmmm...

so, err...you know i stuck around, right?

turns out he's a phenomenal kisser of BOTH sets of lips.

we ended up happily dating for about six months.


moral of the story? a brotha's dick size matters less if he's skilled at cunnilingus...but in the end that shit still matters...

thankful thursday

i'll get back to bus boy tomorrow. i can't interrupt my flow with thankful thursdays, so here goes...

i am thankful to god for granting me another day so that i can see what his paintbrush has touched today. autumn is my favorite time of year. nothing like the morning when the dew has cloaked everything in a diamond shine, the air is crisp and cold, and the sun beams a smile onto my face as i bask in its warmth. today's sunrise was especially beautiful cuz the leaves are so vibrant in color right now. tell me you don't dig autumn and i'll tell you you ain't human!

i am thankful to dex for giving me some of the best conversation i've had in a hot minute. who would have thought we still had that shit?

i am thankful for whatever the hell it was that restored my good humor this week. i gotta tell you folks, my spirits have been truly lifted.

thank you trish for getting your new blog up and running. oh, and thank you for making me laugh so much over the last week i swear my stomach will NEVER recover. remember...DO YA THING MA...oh, and i STILL think my idea of a hospital gigolo has merit, although i would probably need to get premium coverage unless i wanna get stuck with a generic version. i want the morr.is ches.tnut brand, not fla.va fla.v.

i am thankful my granny is still here, although she had to go back to the hospital last night, so toss an extra prayer in your prayer basket for me, folk. much appreciated.

i am thankful for aswad and his words that always have a way of splitting through the bone to get to the marrow of the matter. i'll keep working on making my dreams come true if you do, little brother.

i am thankful my little niece somai is getting better. she had a cold and was a bit fussy. you get a big hug and kiss from auntie nikki!

thank you vince gui.raldi for 'the pumkin waltz'. without fail, this song puts me in the mood for all of the holidays occuring after october. just listening to it makes me think of a roasted turkey, cornbread dressing, homemade sweet potato pies, and watching the charl.ie bro.wn holiday specials while my mom decorates the house while listening to nat king cole. even though this year will probably mark the last one my granny will witness in her current form, i won't allow the melancholy to strip my spirit of the love i have for this time of the year. what song gets you happy folk? whatever song that is, pull that sucka out and play it today.

thank you to my mom for always finding me even when i don't want to be found.

thank you dan and diane, for taking off yesterday. my black ass actually got some work done without having to put up with your nonsense.

thank you olawunmi for the conversation last night. you always find a way to make me laugh AND educate me AND assist me in my creative endeavors. your encouragement was felt and much appreciated. oh, and you folk should check out his blog. not only is he a gifted writer, but he has a wicked sense of humor too. check his nov. 7 post...there's this white guy singing 'hey-ya' and get this...he sounds pretty damn good doing it!

thank you dumbya, for making it impossible for the american people to ignore your misrepresentation. they finally had the balls to get your party members out of congress. i don't know what the democrats are gonna do, but here's hoping they give you pure hell for the last two years you're in office.

i am thankful my creative juices are flowing again. for a minute there i thought all i had left in me was that nasty pulp that gets tossed in the trash cuz it has no nutritional value whatsoever. now i got the juices flowing all over the place. i'm not even sure how it happened, but i'm gonna ride this wave until it hits the shore. get ya cups out folk, cuz i'm about to fill it up to the rim with vitamin c(reativity). i bet you thought i was gonna say 'fill it to the rim with brim' didn't you? that was the first thing i thought of when i say 'fill it to the rim'. whatever happened to 'brim' anyway? did it go the way of 'aim' toothpaste? let me stop before i run off onto another tangent.

thank you folks for reading!

bus boy pt. 1

i met him on the bus (duh, right?)

there i was, squished between two large brown and round masses, sweating like a hairy crack in a pair of tighty whities. i was miserable. the bodies of the hefty folk bookending me were clinging to me closer than my own damn clothes, as if i was some extra appendage on them, perhaps a third nipple on the sista to my left and an extra ingrown hair in the pubic space on the brotha to my right. it was an august day in atlanta, the air so thick with humidity i was sure each molecule of oxygen was pregnant with at least a pound of water. with every inhalation i was somehow sniffing the contents of everyone's intestines, from the collard greens and black-eyed peas the shriveled lady across from me had eaten the previous day, to the double-cheeseburger value meal upsized to include a large fry and a dr. pep.per i'm sure someone in the immediate vicinity had eaten within the last hour. the smell was so rancid i could actually feel my nose trying to curl into itself like a snail seeking protection in its shell.

i wanted to get up and try my luck with standing, but i wasn't sure i could extricate myself from the human bun i was currently trapped in. recognizing the fruitlessness of my desires, i pushed myself as far into my seat as i could and leaned my head back against the glass, closing my eyes and counting the minutes until i reached my stop. i'd been sitting there for what felt like hours when my nose was flooded with the smell of sweaty balls layered with the not-so-effective deoderizer of baby powder. i opened my eyes and my vision was crowded by a crotch blanketed in a pair of jeans. it was then i realized just how intimate the bus forces folk to be. there are precious few places in public a sista will find herself that close to a brotha's crotch. on the train and on the bus...the only two times i can think of when i can find my face pressed into a brotha's crotch and folk ain't disgusted by it.

i glanced up to see whose crotch i was staring at and was taken aback by how attractive he was. evidently his daddy was wil.ly won.ka, cuz this cat was a walking confection. golden brown skin smooth like he'd been recently dipped in a vat of caramel, with eyes of chocolate drops reminiscent of her.shey kisses. i wondered absently if the taste of him would leave me feeling cheated, like a bite into an eas.ter treat absent of filling. i mean, he looked solid enough, meaty where it mattered, but as i looked down at his crotch again, i was struck by the lack of a protruding bulge there. on the one hand, i would hope he wasn't walking around with a hard on, but i figure a brotha should be showing something down there, even if his penis is slumbering, you know?

i don't really have an aversion to sweaty balls, so the smell wasn't putting me off. however, i chuckled inwardly at the baby powder thing. to me, it's kinda like farting and spraying some rose smelling air freshener in its wake. one smell don't necessarily negate the other. in the case of the baby powder, it just accentuated the smell of sweat. a smirk unfurled from my lips.

"so what's the joke?"

the voice was coming from above my head. i looked up and realized the guy attached to the powdered balls had spoken. do i tell him his attempt at masking the scent of his perspiring balls had been unsuccessful? do i tell him the smell of his crotch reminded me of a sweet and sour asian dish? do i tell him i'd tasted baby powder before and it left a bad aftertaste?

"i was remembering something a friend of mine told me..." i trailed off as a knowing grin trickled onto his face. it was obvious he saw right through my lie, but i wasn't sure if he saw right through to my truth. shit, i wasn't about to tell him what i was really thinking.

"so you're not gonna tell me what put that smile on your face then, huh?" he lifted an eyebrow like he was entitled and shit. okay, so i was seeing a bit of arrogance on him, which if worn on the right brotha is sexy, kinda like a pair of speedos...but very few brothas can pull that look off.

"well, i figure i have a right to keep my thought to myself," i answered, my response flavored ever so slightly with a pinch of sarcasm. his eyes narrowed on me, but i detected a twinkle in them, as though they were laughing and his eye lids were closing to trap the mirth there.

he leaned down so that our conversation could get some privacy, cuz you know the folk around us had their ears pressed up to every word of it.

"i've got a five dollar bill in my pocket," he whispered, "you think i have enough to pay for your thought?"

i contemplated that a moment. where was this conversation headed anyway? he was definitely attractive enough, but that whole baby powder on the balls thing had me kinda leery to fuck with this dude. if we started dating and i ended up with his dick in my mouth, would i be scraping that shit off of my tongue? would i have a gritty film on my teeth for weeks afterwards? serious questions to contemplate, cuz if i continued talking to this cat, numbers would no doubt be exchanged.

in the end, that shallow part of me that was thanking will.y won.ka for this delicious chocolate treat standing before me won out.

"you know, i don't think five dollars is enough to cover the price of a happy meal," i answered mischievously, "let alone pay for my damn near priceless thought."

he dug into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a five dollar bill and some other odds and ends.

"aiight, i've got a five dollar bill, some girl's phone number on paper you can use for scrap, and a piece of peppermint candy," he announced, "is that enough?"

"hol up...," i responded with faux indignation, "you trying to pass off some chick's phone number to me? what are you, her pimp?"

he laughed, as did the two people still pinching me tightly between them like asscheeks gripping a quarter.

"if i write my number on the other side will that make it a better offering?"

aiight, let's run down the pros and cons, shall we?

pros: he's confident with a sense of humor almost as dry as mine. he looks decent in a pair of jeans and he's eye candy and i've got a weakness for sweets.

cons: that arrogance might just be reined in for the moment, which means i'll be smacked in the mouth with the full load of it once he gets comfortable, which then means the banter i find witty now can turn into a straight up "no that nigga didn't say that shit" moment later. that, and the powdered balls...

oh, and his penis had yet to make an appearance in his crotch...
.
.
.

DAMN YOU WILL.Y WON.KA!

"give me your number and we'll see what we can work out..."

stay tuned for the next episode of 'nikki don't have shit else to write about...'

sometimes...

"This is a song that makes me spill out all my guts
Sometimes..."

i'm in one of those moods...one of those moods where i reject the light trying to encroach upon my night.

sometimes i can't operate properly when it's too bright, when everything's aiight.

sometimes i do my best work in the dark, where my thoughts are free to freeze into structured entries of recognizable ranting.

sometimes i need to be in in that mental winter and pee ruminations into the snow before packing the flakes of coherent moments into the form of frosty's girlfriend, complete with two commas for eyes curved closed in forced merriment, an askew exclamation point for a nose dangling over a question mark of a crooked smile, the finishing touch being a line of shiny periods trailing down her torso.

she exists in those times when my life is too barren to bear the fruit of new ideas, too cold for anything other than old things to grow. she's that entry i bring out when the ancient foliage in my brain has turned brown from over tilling of its soil.

sometimes there has to be few things going right before i have a clear view of just how rare true happiness is. my reach is then unemcumbered by false contentment.

sometimes i don't want protection from the infected mental fuck, cuz i need that diseased skeet to enflame my brain into the focused function fueled by my fury.

"Sometimes, you got me wishing I didn't have home training
Sometimes, then it wouldn't hurt me so bad
With dreams of knocking you in your head
Then it wouldn't hurt me so bad
With our kitchen knife put up yo ass ..."

sometimes i like to write out of spite, slashing through his soul with pointed paragraphs as incisions of innuendo cut his composure into the caricature his pretend image really is. he's 'bugs the fuck out of me' bunny, the ceramic centerpiece in a world existing only in his mind, and all i wanna do is smash his fucking future into a million unattainable peaces.

i speak of my night mind in light, exposing my capacity for destruction, willing to watch you step back in disgust at the contradictions of my dimensions. i'm cool with that shit.

cuz sometimes i see you operating in the dark, too.

monday musings

for real...you saw this coming, didn't you?

thank you for cooking dinner for me saturday night. i see you really putting in the effort and it's much appreciated.

many prayers and well wishes sent out to trish as she continues her dance. don't worry sis, the prayer patrol is in FULL effect.

if i don't get some good sex soon i think i'm gonna implode.

my aunt is treading on really, REALLY thin ice right now.

how come i gotta scrape up a win now? what the fuck is up with mcnabb?!?

new york is calling to me like a brotha with his tongue out, licking his lips.

atlanta is getting on my nerves like a bratty child.

i'm gonna make the most of this place until i can get the hell up outta here.

what happened to the falcons from the past two weeks? how the fuck you gonna lose to detroit?!?

i'm sure brady is finally feeling the effects of having all those folks on his nutsack. perhaps if some of you mofos get offa it, he'll stop throwing interceptions.

my brother is all up in it right now. i hope he finds his way to shore soon.

why am i afraid to speak to granny? probably cuz i know she's suffering and ain't a damn thing i can do about it.

i finally finished aswad's scarf and now i'm working on granny's. why did she look at me and tell me she wants me to teach her how to knit? ain't that shit supposed to be the other way around? :)

being in new york last week reminded me of both why i want to be there and why it would be so hard if i was. i'm used to warm weather, so that cold shit is gonna be tough to deal with.

for the first time in a long time i actually contemplated casual sex. yeah, he was that damn fine.

i saw 'bus boy' at the store on saturday. i'm gonna have to write about that encounter soon.

one day i'm gonna ask him if he's gay.

nothing like a brotha with locs. makes me forget myself sometimes.

i really think god gives you the opportunity to make a change in your life, then when he sees you ain't doing it, he forces you to do it. that has helped me to put alot of unforseen shit in perspective.

speaking of which, i finally had that talk with my boss about da bitch. he said he knew there was tension. i told him if he knew there was tension, how come he's always willing to believe what she says about me? he said if he believed everything she says about me, i wouldn't have a job. damn, that heffa must be saying a hella lot of shit about me.

okay, please tell me i'm not the only adult who watches ne.d declas.sified?

am i the only one to see the irony in these 'family value' cats being gay? really though...how you gonna say no to gay marriage but be taking it in the ass? for THREE YEARS. this reminds me of slave owners screwing around with black women, but then saying they're animals. so to use their skills at deduction, they were fine with fucking animals. probably explains all of those mules walking around with sore assholes.

i really, REALLY want to tell her she's making a mistake about wanting to marry this guy. shit, now i know how my friends felt when i announced i was getting married. maybe i should say something, so at least i know i did what i could.

watching him suffer hasn't been nearly as bad as i thought it'd be. does that make me a bad person? nah, but i'm sure it makes me one who believes karma is a bitch, cuz it is.

perfect love?

i am so beautiful, you think me incapable of being anything but. i could shit on your face and you'd think it was the greatest gift you've ever received. you loving me thus makes it easy for me to not love you.

everything i do has a noble purpose to you

i'm not selfish...i'm merely taking care of myself
i'm not deceitful...i'm lying to prevent someone else from being hurt
i'm not petulant...i'm angry because someone, somewhere, is being treated unjustly

when i fart, you think it's the best smelling fart ever created, probably even think the gas should be bottled up and sold as perfume

when i speak, every word is a diamond in your mind, excavated for the sake of feeding the people in impoverished african countries

this is why i can never love you...

because what i need is the truth. what i need is someone who will see me when i'm being ugly and check me on that shit, not tell me i must have had a good reason for being that way, cuz sometimes nikki is being ugly just cuz...

what i need is someone who can look at me and not see perfection.

he'll see my frizzy locs and think "those mothafuckas are frizzy"
he'll see my breasts and know they're not as perky as a girl at age 21
he'll see my body rife with life's deposits in various areas and know i look nothing like the girls in the videos
he'll see my soul and know sometimes it craves the darkness, sometimes it stays in the shadows cuz it wants to be alone
he'll see me through the fat and muscle, right down to the bone, and know my body won't be this firm in ten years
he'll hear my arguments and know when i'm feeding him bullshit
he'll see my actions and know when i'm being a bitch

and he won't make it all better in his mind. he won't envision me as anything but who i am...

he won't be enamored of everything good about me to the point of ignoring the other facets of me.

THAT'S the kind of love that lasts.

THAT'S why a guy like you finishes last.

lesson learned

the words are lost, probably hiding beneath my denial. this weekend is a retina detached from my mind's eye and i'm blinded to the reality of the situation. if i remain positive, she'll be around a little longer, right?

i'm not looking forward to the holidays. thanksgiving and christmas and new years have become burdened with more significance than they usually hold. thanksgiving is no longer just the day i eat til i'm stuffed and watch football all day. thanksgiving this year is now the first of the last holidays spent with her.

christmas isn't just the day i celebrate christ's birth. now it's the day i stave off granny's death for one more day.

new years will be the time to remember past years when she was healthy and i didn't spend the time with her as i should have cuz really, what's death without regret?

i KNOW i could have been a better granddaughter. no matter how close we are, no matter how much we talk, i could have talked more. i could have paid more attention. i could have better recognized the time with her for how precious it was before she got sick.

such a fucking selfish wish i have, to keep her around so i'm not as regretful at the end. as long as she remains here, i can shower her with all of the attention, the calls, the letters, the visits, everything she should have had from me when she was well. cuz really, i can cram all of those missed moments, all of the gathered memories, all of the conversations and tidbits of wisdom she emparts, into the remaining days, weeks, months i've got with her. yeah, cuz it's like a test i'm studying for at the last minute. when the funeral comes and the minister asks us if we really knew her, if we really appreciated her, i can raise my hand and answer yes and give examples of my superior knowledge of my granny, have the other folk around me nodding in agreement or looking on in surprise cuz i shared something about her they knew nothing about.

they'll think i'm such a good fucking granddaughter cuz i knew her, cuz i loved her and appreciated her.

what a fucking fraud i am.

i didn't even know about her childhood until i read about it in one of the family newletters.

i didn't know her exact age until my uncle died last year and that's after mom and i sat there and added and subtracted the years between my uncle's age and granny's.

i didn't bother asking indepth questions about her life before i was born until the last six years or so...right around the time when i realized she was getting older and wouldn't be around much longer.

yeah, in the end i wasn't nearly the granddaughter i could have been. that's just fact. i'm not feeling sorry for myself. frankly, i'm checking my shit cuz this ain't the time to be magnamous. there is a lesson here and i'd be a fool not to learn it.