I've been out the loop for a few days. I've had a couple of bad ones. First, I didn't get the job I was fawning over. And then somehow, yesterday, I lost a $10 bill. I had $13 in cash and lost ten. I guess I should thank the ignorance of the unlucky number 13.
Anyway, I think I'm going to re-institute Vic Damone's "Random Thoughts" on Fridays to add some sense of continuity to the blog (this time i'm going to be good about adding links and pictures). The Random Thoughts are up to 10 things going thru my mind at a particular moment on Friday. They usually come back-to-back-to-back, so it can be pretty random.
I'm also gonna add a Vibin Video on Thursdays to do a little some thing different.
The video has to be something I can groove to in the midst of the worst day or week, much like this week. To start things off on this front, we're taking it back to middle school for me. Heavy D and The Boyz "Got Me Waiting" ...
To me it's a classic. Enjoy.
Damn it. As I tried to embed the link, I realized embedding is disabled off of Youtube. Anyway, here' the video link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BxfRlA2t7kU . See what kind of week I'm having.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Got Me Waiting
Sunday, February 24, 2008
My Hope For Joan
... is not what you think.
I've waited about a week or so. But I finally feel inclined to weigh in on the abrupt ending of Girlfriends, the sitcom that many blacks (especially black women) hold dear to their hearts.
I didn't just want to dump on the CW for dropping the show or question the aims the last season (it seemed to be going in about 527 directions all at once). But I wanted to give the show's ending an undeniable credence. So, I've taken my time, and I've come up with how I wish the show would end.
Finally, last night it came to me. Joan Clayton, the main character of the show, is meant to be alone for life. I mean, she's spent the better part of seven seasons searching for the perfect relationship under the constraining rules (like her three-month rule for sex), overthinking and overreacting.
When Joan found "the one" her dude was shipped off to fight in Iraq. Now the show has been canceled with her relationship in limbo because Aaron is still at war. Crazy, right? Maybe that's a fitting "end" of sorts, that this hopeless romantic actually end up by herself, hopeless.
It may sound crass. But I think it's not a bad way to leave the show, you know, Joan without the experience of another relationship (this time marriage) that she seemed destined to mess up. If they do have a proper finale, I think it would be best for the show if Aaron, Joan's husband is killed off at war in an accident of sorts ...
... and his funeral, Toni Childs, Joan's best friend since childhood returns to reconcile their relationship.
All at once, it makes several statements. It questions the war. It displays the importance of true friendship. It gives us the understanding that some of us just aren't meant to be in relationships no matter how hard we try to find that perfect person, a real but harsh reality.
It would be interesting to see William and Monica in their first days as parents in contrast to the death of Aaron. You know, the life and death ying and yang. On Lynn, it would be great to see her find yet another random person to sleep with, maybe a virgin. And Maya and Darnell. I've never be able to make much of this relationship. She just seems so spastic. Maybe she ends up pregnant again, or they finally adopt a child.
But most important, the show needs reconciliation between Toni and Joan, maybe the premier relationship during the show's run. Of course, I also want to see Jill Marie Jones in character again (I've been in love with Toni Childs for almost five years now).
The show lost traction when Jill Marie jumped ship, and it would be impossible to tie together the loose ends without her in the finale. It's Joan's most best relationship. The one she needs the most.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Turtle Power!
While watching that Wayne Brady show, the one where people sing lines to pop songs for money, I realized something last night.
Wanya Morris from Boyz II Men looks like a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle. BIIM was on the show a celebrity contestants (their $500,000 song was "I'll Make Love To You. I think I'd go into $500,000 in debt to see them screw up their own song. Wait. No I wouldn't).
But this got me to thinking. Wanya isn't the only black celeb that fits the TMNT look. There's Mike Jones. Coming to this conclusion has me on a quest, a pursuit to find two other black celebs to play TMN Turtles.
I've already figured that Wanya would have to be Michaelangelo because of how loud and annoying he can be. Mike Jones is Raphael because, well because he's a rapper, and he's supposed to be "hard."
I need a Leonardo and a Donatello. Thus, I need a leader-type turtle-looking black celeb and one who is forever in deep thought and inventive. Any suggestions?
Oh, Katt Williams will play Splinter.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Chipping Away
From Duffle Bag Boy: "I'm am on my shit, need a pamper on me." Friday night's experience has me on my game.
When God said “find yourself in a reflection”
Chipping away at your nose isn’t exactly what He meant.
See, so many are caught up in physical perception.
True perfection we’ve chosen to reject.
Found themselves in the in shelves
And aisles of the cosmetic surgery to beguile
A soul that lacks real depth.
Accept, their reality they will not.
So instead they trot into the surgeon’s chair.
Some, like I, prefer to call it the entrance to Pharoah’s lair.
Better known as the Sphinx.
You don’t want to make the connection
Well let me send you the link.
www.yournosedefinesyourface.com
Tells a story of your history, your race, a place
From whence some of your ancestors came
And see the Greeks chipped away at the memories of Giza
So you wouldn’t know your true name.
Trying to displace Egypt from Africa in our history books
But all you’ve gotta do is give Egyptians a single look.
Crazy, what you appear to be doing seems to be the same.
Carving out of your history book this unique piece of you,
To please the callings of a people of a different hue.
Makes me wonder when it was that we all went off cue.
The white man desiring full lips,
and the black woman wanting to chip …
maybe it was when we started to mix seeds,
Can’t say that totally bothers me.
Because real love knows only one face,
It lacks race in case you didn’t know,
It stares back you, no matter how wide or thin your nose.
So I’m left to wonder why some chose to go
The route of reworking the clay that God made … for you,
No, I can’t judge you for the things you chose to do.
But I will pray that you find the will to hold on to that not-so-distant memory.
Instead of sanding away your ancestors’ DNA
As if it were a nail filed down by a board of emery.
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
On Women
I love women. As you know, I have more female than male friends. But that still doesn't mean that women don't do things that annoy (the hell outta) me at times. I have lived with three different women (four if you included the exorbitant hours I spent with Triple B back in the day).
Through my experiences, I have a compiled a list of the things that I absolutely loathe about women. For the woman whom I marry, this might be a great guideline for things not to do to piss me off.
This list is not complete. But as I think of something new, I will post it and add it. This list may help you in some small way with your man or in your pursuit of him. Bros., if you have something to gripe about, please comment.
1. Women don't ask questions. They imply things, and want you to do it without having to ask. Problem is, we mean aren't that aloof, and this game gets annoying. Don't say "I want (blah, blah, blah)" and expect me to get "blah, blah, blah" or do "blah, blah, blah," then get upset because I don't. If there is something you want from or of me, ASK please.
2. Toilet paper usage. Women use toilet paper as though there is an endless supply No woman should ever complain to a man about buying toilet paper. My wife, whoever she maybe will be responsible for toilet paper like I am to cutting the grass.
3. The trash. I don't mind taking it out. But if that shit stinks, and it stinks because of you, do not, and I repeat, do not leave that funk there for more than 15 minutes just for me to take it out. I will be pissed. Repeat. I will be pissed. If you fill the trash can up an hour after I have just emptied it, best believe you will also need to take it out.
4. Lifetime/Golden Girls. Do not expect me to watch either of these with you, the network or this show. I refuse. I would rather play in traffic sans clothing and see how long it is before I'm arrested than watch a Lifetime movie. Golden Girls was a good show. Operative word: was.
5. Attacking below the belt. In arguments, do not bring up things you shouldn't or use tactics that are hurtful and irrational in concerns with what we are arguing about. Most men do not think like this. We're rational creatures who, while we may do some irrational things, know when we're wrong even when we won't admit it. We don't need you to take cheap shots at us.
6. Weave. Nails and pedicures are fine. Weave? It will not grow on me. I mean never. Question? Have you ever engaged in a sexual act with a woman with a weave and tried to grasp her head or pull her hair only to feel as though there are abnormal growths on her head? Yeah, been there, done that. Never again (I hope). I understand some black women want their hair to grow, and wearing a weave can help that process. But just rocking one just cause? Dude, be you. Nothing against you if that's what you choose to do. Just a personal belief of my own.
7. Plastic surgery. I hold this one dear, especially for a black woman (and man) who wants to reconstruct her face by altering her nose. It's the same nose that the was knocked off of the Sphinx outside of the Pyramid of Giza, and we've devalued it in search of something universal. Be unique. I could go on for days about this one (and I have before). I'm even working on a piece about this issue. I might post it within the next week or so.
Don't worry, like I said, this list will grow with time. Women, I still love you.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Strength in Numbers
There used to be strength in strength
Which meant it was strength in power
The man would take the animal,
And with his arms and intellect he devoured her
Command dominion over all the seas
Pluck most birds from every tree.
Cage them and clip their wings.
Prevent her from chirping the song she’d sing
Now, though, there’s strength in numbers
Which means there’s strength in money
And you have very little control,
If you’re a bee who happens to lack honey,
Funny, that’s not how it was meant to be,
But one day currency fell from a tree.
In the form of forbidden fruit,
You could take a bite, not even to the root
And it became your yearning,
In place of simply learning,
Life’s most relevant truths,
Most people just chase green leave...
Their families at a moment’s notice
Overwork themselves,
Just to fill a company’s quota.
Sellout their souls for dead presidents.
Losing control of what was forever meant.
It’s hard to find a mind in mint condition.
When we’ve reconditioned them to not matter.
Capitalism has splattered matters of conviction
As though it were cake batter.
And few seem to care so long as
As their pockets are getting fatter.
Wu Tang said it best, Cash rules,
but everyone around me seems like fools, gold,
because they forgotten the golden rule:
You can’t take it with you.
Your soul is the only thing that goes,
The rest just folds,
As though it were an offsuit 7-deuce.
Play that hand and you’re guaranteed to lose
More often than not.
So why is it that most don’t care
To read into that plot?
They play every hand
Because it gives them a chance
But they don’t understand
The real currency is whittling away
With little chance of another advance
On mental strength, our truth is beginning to decay
In the same way,
The Ice Age came
And froze some of our roots.
Except this time it’s our minds,
That seem to be missing the cue.
Saturday, February 16, 2008
If You Are What They Say
The MC inquisitively released the word as if he were curious to see who would step to the stage with no moniker, just a name.
"Damone," he said? "Is here a Damone in the house?"
And with that, I thrust myself into a spotlight. I almost didn't make it. As I got up from my seat, I almost tripped and busted my grill because I couldn't see a step in front of me.
But I made it to the stage intact. And the MC handed me the mic. I looked up into the stage lights and realized that I couldn't really see the crowd that well. There was about 150 or so people there. I warned them that I hadn't dropped any knowledge on a stage in what amounted to three-plus years, and to "bare with me."
Then I went into These Words: "I want these words to dutifully pirouette while encompassed about by a chorus of doubters which has only but a seed a hope within in it."
I finished that line and the co-host fell out of her on-stage chair, flabbergast. Her moment made me lose my train of thought, and I had to start over. It got the nerves out of me because I knew somebody would feel me.
It gave me a confidence, and I got through the entire poem. At the end, I got a standing ovation. The MC, he took the mic I had, and promptly told the crowd that "no one is to touch this mic for the rest of the night."
I was just relieved to finish it without and major screw ups. I told him I had another one for him (Buildings), and he let me bring down the house at the end of the open mic set.
This time, I went to the stage with confidence. I took the mic and just ripped it (it's easier to recite something that rhymes). I got another standing ovation. The MC jokingly told me he disliked me.
DMilly, who had been trying to get me out to this open-mic event for months, and I left after that poem. She gave me a big hug for doing it, and said "I told you," because she knew that I would be able to move the crowd.
I thanked her for forcing me out. We talked outside in the cold for a few minutes, and I couldn't feel it because of how good I felt.
I mean, once I got comfortable, I felt at home on the stage. All of my worries, my fears they escaped me, and I just vibed. It's honestly one of the best feelings I've ever experienced. I felt like the dude Lupe rhymes about in "Superstar."
And I can only say thank you to DMilly for forcing me my star to shine.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
Happy Day After Hump Day
If you remember last year's Valentine's Day post, I played the role of the typical male. you know, the one who totally forgot it was Valentine's Day, and had one of my good female friends telling me Happy Wednesday instead of Happy Valentine's Day.
Well, this year I made sure I didn't disappoint that friend, DMilly. I sent her an e-card from Hallmark with a special greeting from Tyler Perry (note: She loathes Tyler Perry). In the personal message I emphasized how it would be best if he told her "Happy Valentine's Day considering how much she loves him."
Then I said, I "Happy Day After Hump Day!" to continue th joke from a year ago. It's a good one, I think. I hope. I'll let you know what her response is - earlier in the day she couldn't open it because of work.
Anyway, I'm not doing anything special. Just another day. I might go out with a couple of friends late. If I do, I've told them all to expect to see me in my "middle finger you" t-shirt.
Oh yeah, if you're the praying type, send one up for your boy tonight. I'm expecting some big news tomorrow one way or the other (kinda like an American Idol contestant in front of the trio), AND I will be performing a few pieces of poetry at night.
