Monday, November 28, 2011

Watercolor and Out of Focus:Morning Reflection on Grief

It's been two years since I lost my partner,my son's father  and there is no road- map or rule book on how to do this. How to live, grieve,move-on, remember, reflect, and raise your child. And rarely is there anyone you can really talk to about it. Let's keep it all the way real, in these austere times, therapy is definitely a luxury. Most of us are doing it on sheer willpower alone.

Being a mere plebe its crazy how alone you can  feel in this experience. Alone, despite the fact, there are plenty young mothers raising the children of  deceased fathers in my city.

But such is the nature of the beast called grief, it can swallow reason sometimes. So despite the fact that my mind tells me not to relive the events of this season, two years  ago, I do anyway.

I've been thinking a lot about intentions lately. Color me self-righteous but its a gospel I want to preach to a lot of Christians.This lady that works at a Walgreens near me, recently made a comment she thought I didn't hear. One wondering where my child's father is, sad, you don't ever see him. It wasn't what she said, really, it was how she said it that made all the difference. It was her intention that made all the difference.

Later that same day, I thought about my own misguided intentions, and how easy it is to get my feelings hurt. I threw myself a pity party and wallowed in muck of the mistakes grief can cause us to make. I am my harshest critic and sometimes I can uncharitably rip myself a new one. I guess it is that stubborn Catholic part of me that won't go away.

Original sin,guilt, call it one or the other, it's all the same.

I am a Crab, a Cancer to the bone, this is the way I operate. I retreat, hibernate, go underground when I need to. But the wonderful thing is we can definitely have fun in our caves. I am emerging with a positive vibe and good intentions. A little hibernation can be cathartic.

 I haven't been writing much,but I been stewing and I'm ready to share. Last year, I was afraid to be alone. This year I know I am not.

A little bit sacred a lot profane...

what's a life with no fun?




Friday, November 18, 2011

Mighty Aphrodite: A MODEST Proposal

It's Friday, so why not blow off a little steam and kick the weekend off with a bang? I'm feeling RiRi right now and am very much in the mood to let the Jameson sink in. But before the whiskey knocking can begin, I shall digress....

Recently, an eighty-four year old woman got pepper-sprayed at the Occupy Wallstreet protests. Her response resurrected one of the best slogans of the women's movement.

"Screw us and we'll Multiply!"

Damn, right.

A Modest Proposal

If you don't notice the way the boys politic with their enemies these days, you have got to be blind. Men parse their words with one another out here,cause they know it ain't about stature, when it comes to that equalizer. Those that play in that world, know exactly what I mean. You ain't about to come up short or just say you're about something that you're not  because men know there are consequences to reckless speech and action with other men. With us...not so much...

I think it would be different if girls toted choppers the same way the boys did. Call me a radical, if you will, but seriously, think how different the world would be. Broken dates, lies, unpaid child support, all around slick talk would be cut dramatically in the first quarter...guaranteed.

A lot of men get their rocks off from dealing with women, who they know they are not good enough for. They then proceed to "conquer" her  with their insults and move on...pumped up and feeling better about themselves.  Call it the ego-boost for the bitch-made. Now ladies, I don't know how to stop that. All  I do know is....

 I'm upping on the next dude that tells me that I use too many big words, and then I'm deleting his number!

No questions, just the Answer,

She mean and she never ever take back talk!



a.k.a. Nina Ross

Love this jam by Kardinall Offishall....

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Feelin Good,Livin Better (Mini-Take Care Review)

Take Care. I been listening since the leak. Feeling it...

feeling that is the radical act Drizzy asks us hip-hoppers to do when listening to his music. A big task for us,the "generation of not being in love", of getting what we can and getting up, of getting before getting got--at all costs.

Still, we have feelings and sometimes human beings get hurt in the game. None of us are immune. I certainly haven't been. Drake's music seems always aware of imperfection. That none of us is really wearing a suit of armor around our hearts, some of us are just fake and some of us are real.

There is nothing wrong with a tender heart as long as you keep it all in perspective. On Take Care, Drake still maintains more than a healthy ego during all his pitfalls in life an love. That's how it should be. Don't ever forget who you are or everyone else will too.

People will debate the merits of Take Care, sure, but whether you call it a classic or not...Drake ain't fell off with this one...The album is layered, musically sound and something Maybach music ain't...intimate.

Take Care reflects on lost love and what you do with all that rage in your heart.

You create. You make it.

Do it on 'em. There is always one better than the last asshole you've encountered. Sometimes killing the muse  is what you gotta do to conjure better inspiration..

A broken heart pumps battlejuice,
Back with a vengeance,



Thursday, November 10, 2011

I Get So Emotional :Kisses and Thoughts from a Real Girl

I have had some experiences lately. Conversations, interactions and observations that really have me shaking my damn head.

I mean, what is really good?

 From Herman Cain calling Nancy Pelosi, the former Speaker of the House, third in line to the Presidency,'Princess Nancy', to the games average men play....It seems respect for women has hit an all-time low.

Growing up in New Orleans, I have been no stranger to outright disrespect. I'm from the "fuck a hoe" generation in the city, so I know how the game goes. However,as I've gotten older, I've been noticing a curious trend.

As the bad boys of my youth, have started to chill on the cursing bitches out in public shit, a lot of the  so -called "good -guys" have become condescending jerks.

I blame really, but sort of.

In the same way that rappers make a lot of guys believe their own average joe-blow hype [see the dudes poppin bottles in the club like they on camera], Barack made any black man with a job and a suit in his closet feel like he has something to say. Like he, alone, and rightly only he, has the solution to all that ills "us".

Like he is The Great Black Hope.

So...oh please... Mr.Hope please save me from myself and all this living I have done, books I have read, an the education I busted my own ass for,from which I draw the audacity to form my own conclusions.

Oh please Mr. Hope, save me from my own feminist thoughts that supports marriage as a circumstance (a happy one for some) but as an institution (not the solution for the many.) 

I can't lay the entire burden at Mr.Hope's doorstep, a lot of women play this game as well. Whether they play dumb, or unopinionated for favor in Mr.Hope's eyes or they just really are dumb and really believe the hype. They are big part of the problem too.

I wonder if it is possible for some men to contemplate a brain or being that happens to be female.  And I wonder if it is possible for some women to conceive of themselves outside of what is pleasing to Mr. Hope's eye.

So, oh please Mr. Hope teach me what a Lady me where she lives...

all the real bitches want her offed, so that the rest of us may live.

*puts dick back in and zips up pants*



Monday, November 7, 2011

Big Enough to Take These Broken Hearts...Frank Ocean @ the House of Blues

I had a great time this weekend. I broke out my bat cave, took a break from writing these short- stories and went to see Frank Ocean at the House of Blues.

To say he has a great voice is an understatement. Its the kind of voice that recording really does no justice. Booming and powerful and rich, and with a bit of tremor--that is what makes it linger in your memory.That's what makes his voice special in a sea of good ones.

Frank Ocean is not a big guy but he fills up a room. Still a bit shy he didn't talk much to, but I can't say he didn't engage the crowd. Most were hanging onto his every word, as old movies and celestial scenes played on the projection screen behind him, singing along to songs not officially released to the public.

New Orleans definitely supports its own when it comes to our artistic talent.

The audience for the show proved to be every bit as entertaining as the performer. We  were cool, weird, & black and then there were those that only wished they were as far as the eye could see.

One of the best moments of the show was when Frank Ocean sang an unreleased track, which features as the hook, the bounce classic, Primetime's ,"She Givin Me Love". The audience loved it and it made me feel nostalgic for the time when I was a strange  little girl in a beret that also liked 'that beat' like everybody else. And then there was the Sade cover....By Your Side...otherworldly.

I definitely left  Frank Ocean's concert a bigger fan than I came, which should be the goal of every artist's performances, I think.  It's great to see a black man get to be eccentric, talented, play it his own way and be loved for it. It gives me hope that all that teasing for beret, leather jacket, and boot wearing that I endured in 1990s New Orleans will be worth it, as long as I keep plucking these keys.

It's Monday y'all,
And Being blue ain't bad

Kick off your shoes and Swim Good...



He sang this about tenminutes into his set...a pretty gutsy move. He was like, here it is, but get into the rest of me, you'll love it.

Friday, November 4, 2011

We Found Love in a Hopeless Place

"We Found Love" might be my favorite Rihanna video. Its dark and dangerous but can be beautiful on the other side.When I watch this video, I remember beating the pavement, running the streets of New Orleans, fuckin, fightin, rolling, loving, and surviving a whole host of things we shouldn't have. There were kisses and scraped elbows, smoke sessions on the river, and a few bumped heads from when we lost our balance.

It was the time of my life.....

The True Story of the YoungGypsyChild in the Wild and her best comrade, Slim Streets, also known as Mac, Ghost, Atlas, Iceberg Slim, Tat2 Tim or our Timmy.

One Love
Now. Forever and Always....
RIP 12-4-81 to 11-4-09...

Thursday, November 3, 2011

They Spittin/Am Writing: Mid Morning Session

I'm all about punchlines and hastag rap. But I love when a rapper tells me a story. You know those songs that don't just give you bars but also a mood, vibe, and a backdrop. Those kinds of songs take you places. They transport you. Maybe they take you back to a time past or somewhere you've never been. Either way, being that I have taken a detour into the land of fiction writing again, a journey is what I'm looking for.

I've been writing these crazy ass stories, letting my hair get wild and having fun.

Here is a little of who or what has put me in the mood....

Like Wayne said,

"So 504 you got to kill me here ."

But always California dreamin',


Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The Feast of All Saints

Tim drew this on a scrap of paper. It was like the very last sheet of paper in this cheap ass notepad I used to write poems in.

It was the kind of peice of paper most people would have thrown in the trash.

But nothing and no one was to be discarded in his eyes.

The total acceptance of things as they are... the joy and freedom that lies there... is the greatest lesson I learned from this greatest partner and comrade.

It was such a brief time-- it turns out. But I'm not mad.

We were rich, beautiful, broke,bummy and wild together. And we had a baby together.

What could have been better than that?

Maybe, just a little more time.

Rest in Peace Love---

Original artwork by:
Timothy McGary Jr. December 4th,1981- Novemeber 4th, 2009