file this one under f.

for massive fail as well as fuckery deluxe.

no.

nkotb & new edition? i quit. just cuz they’re from boston and maurice starr managed them, it doesn’t mean this shit needed to happen. it’s painful. noooooooo, lawd, WHY?

i would complain about it

but it’s what i asked for.
i wanted to communicate with you only in dreams. clearly, & with no punches pulled. last night/ this morning, you asked for the chance to talk to me. i said i needed to think about it. a mutual friend was the one i told this to in the dream — i presume that this person was the conduit of that energy, he represented the path. if you’d come to me any other way, i wouldn’t have accepted it. it was a lot for me — you know i have some serious anxiety about dealing with you. but i’ve been touched by the dream; i understand. i know. i wonder if your dream was the flip side of what i just experienced. even if it wasn’t, i’m good. for now, i’m okay w/ dreams. you have to have my permission to reach me, anyway. this is just another way for me to let go. it’s really easy to say that past hurts shouldn’t be able to reach you, but fuck that. we’re human. we’re super sensitive to traumatic and hurtful things no matter how we allow them to manifest. i respect your humility. you don’t have to try to reach me in the waking world. i already know. it’s okay. say peace, and let’s leave it at that. whatever happens next is up to our ori and the universe at large.

*an end note:

i know you show up every time i dream of you. i can’t stop you. but if we engage w/ each other in the waking world i want you to act right, okay? don’t make an ass of yourself or make me wanna wish you harm. thanks.

old flames: a colored girl retrospective.

i’m not gonna go in order, or even name (government) names. i was reading omi’s post of a similar ilk & i was struck by how easily i’ve been imprinted by the relationships i’ve had. i suppose that’s because i was open, to begin with. there was never a moment when i regretted any of it. . . but i have definitely found myself questioning whether i’d ever find myself undone by the same conditions, if i would be stubborn enough to ignore lessons and major indicators that the shit just might not be a good idea. after all that, i’m glad i can say no. i’ve learned a lot in those relationships and in between them. enough to know that i don’t care to be bothered with the bullshit, enough to know that reciprocity isn’t a dream . . . enough to know that i’m never gonna be that woman again.

so, bit by bit i’m gonna be writing my memories. i don’t know if i’ll be able to find songs to adequately describe the walking disaster that was the rapper, or the overwhelming love i felt when dealing with the runner. i just know that the sooner i put it all out, the better equipped i am to take the hand of the next one and lead him into my apartment . . . to sit on my sofa . . . and watch the 2nd season of america’s best dance crew while we eat coconut rice and compare tattoos.

i did it because it felt good.

i ate that whole container of hummus
devoured that bottle of cheap ass white wine
walked around my apartment in just a pair of heels — by myself
watched some porn
flirted endlessly with no desire to take it further
bought that pair of lace panties
cut all my hair off
slathered myself in coconut oil
stayed in bed an extra three hours
packed a bowl & smoked myself silly
enjoyed a sandwich with two kinds of meat and a cheese on it
wore a skirt w/ no panties underneath
copped a pair of sexy shoes for no apparent reason
fucked around w/ your homeboy
got some extensions put in my head
drank a whole pitcher of lager & three shots
danced w/ a girl
gave out a fake name @ the club
went bonkers on the clearance rack
got my nails done
kissed a baby
smiled at strangers & said ‘good morning’
started a blog
spent 30 minutes in the dressing room & didn’t buy shit
ignored that phone call
had a glass of wine w/ lunch on a monday
wore jewelry that didn’t match my outfit
left work early to go on a weekend trip
pretended to be younger than i am
lied & said i was older
downloaded an album
wore some crazy looking outfit
called someone a dirty name
got nasty on the mic
played dumb
snickered when someone got fired
called out sick just so i could have sex all day . . .

oh, jill.

jill, jill, jill. i feel this song fully.

i’ve been there. with more than one paramour, quite honestly. it seems like they all end up the same way, too.
we split up for whatever reason(s), you get somebody new, i get somebody new . . . we both live our lives, & may even still be really good friends. but i know deep down inside that i feel like i’m not finished, that you’re not finished. not so much a regret that we split — when something isn’t working, it’s just plain not working — but something like a deep want to try again. i’ll ignore it, because you’ve got someone else you’re kicking it with (you’re not wasting any kind of time, since you don’t want the chance to miss me) & i’m doing whatever i’m doing . . . i won’t let myself regret you. i won’t convince myself that i should apologize profusely & call you up trying to see if there might be a way back in. this is primarily because i can’t handle the idea of being rebuffed when i want to be desired & refuse to try too hard at anything i’m prone to suck at. i’m prideful that way. i’m trouble that way. & she isn’t. that’s why you like her so much — she doesn’t challenge you to be a better person, quite honestly. she’d never encourage you to reach for everything you’ve ever wanted — because you’re all she’s ever wanted. a daddy, financier & lover all in one. you have the bankroll for her to hit target without flinching — note, i said her, because she’s never considerate of your money situation. it only matters when she has to pay. you don’t think i know she sees you as an open wallet/ bank account/ whatever, even though you essentially make the same amount of money she does? you don’t think i’ve noticed all these things when you talk about her to me the way you would one of your homeboys?
but you’ll allow it, because it’s easier than being alone. because it’s easier than trying to get back to what you know was harder to keep, but more worth your time.
& maybe that’s why i let go, too. because i’m too comfortable running shit & it’s not even about control issues — the only issue i have is that i wanna be in control. period. when i’m not at the helm, it’s only because i let you be. i think that you enjoyed that as much as i am accustomed to it.
so now here i am, after the fact, wondering why the fuck i even care.
because i love you. & in the back of my head, i imagine where we’d be had we stuck it out or reloaded the whole thing. if we’d said “let’s try one more time,” & said yes to a do-over. i wonder if you would have taken my hand, had i extended it.
i don’t live w/ regrets or guilt, but the what-ifs surely can be a beast.

hey.

i heard that you’ve finally gotten the opportunity to do some of the work you’ve wanted to for a long while. congratulations. i hope it takes off & does everything you ever wanted it to do. i wish you great success, for real. i had always hoped that you would go ahead & follow whatever path you wished to — independent of me & everyone else on this entire earth. i don’t know if you ever realized it, but all the energy you poured into worrying about wtf i did with myself was ideal for your shit. maybe you did, or perhaps because we’re not in touch at all, it’s easier for you to do that. either way, good for you. keep it up. the forward movement is soooooo important. i do wonder if we’ll cross paths again sometime, but that’s nothing i can really consume myself with. if we do, we do. & if we don’t, then we don’t. i haven’t forgotten you though. i still remember the slick, slightly crooked smile. the smirk that came across your lips when i’d see you & you said my name . . . the playful way in which you’d greet me on the telephone, as if we were best friends & could always pick up where we left off. & we could sometimes. other days, it seemed like the estrangement was inevitable so i wouldn’t even try to make it pleasant between us. formalities. & you tried to play like there was nothing brewing under the surface, as if the elephant in the room weren’t sitting on both our laps.
oh, well. i noticed early on that for all the mouth you had, you never wanted to go toe to toe with me. that’s fine. it always made me wonder wtf you were so afraid of. i’m reasonable. i can be sweet when i want to, but my tongue does cut like a machete. words were always my forté, you said. you knew i was as dangerous with a pen as you were. only you drew. you painted. your images accomplished the same things my phrases did. i felt that you were jealous somewhat. let’s face it: in everyday dealings we do not create visual art to express what we want. in situations. when your dinner is cold at a restaurant, you do not sketch dissatisfaction. i peeped that. & that’s okay, too.
i just wonder wtf you’d say to me now if we saw each other.
would it be another greasy smile, with you asking me a grip of questions when it’s not your damn business to begin with? would you really be tired enough to try to pick up where you dropped the ball?
i wonder.
but at the same time, i don’t have the patience to even sweat you. you know how to get a hold of me.
this is a belated father’s day letter.
hope you had a dope one.

addendum: this is a continuation of this post, but is primarily addressed to my father. i googled him today. i find it bizarre that he’s worked on a parenting initiative that deals w/ child support . . . when there’s at least one errant sibling i have. when he’s gonna be in arrears until i’m 30+. this shit is crazy. but the parallels between him & the other person i’m thinking of are real scary.

real quick

sometimes, i still wanna ignore
how hurt i was, & probably still am.
it’s like a miles-deep wound, a scar across my belly
like i’m a leftover from somebody’s massacre
if i try to think about it
i immediately begin to shake my head, “no,”
because it sometimes feels like i traded my sanity to have something else
& i don’t even know what that something else is.

other days i’m thankful
full of joy & hopeful
looking fwd to trying it again some other time
when i have more to offer,
less to carry
& more love of self.

this year will make it five.

it’s so surreal, because my brain still travels that path sometimes:
she would be five in december
i might be living in the projects or renting a shithole where i’m afraid to come home after dark
i know he’d be gone already, possibly a suicide, maybe another part of the murder rate
and there’s no telling how i would be
because i wasn’t fully myself back then,
i didn’t know i that i was magic
i had no idea it was incumbent upon me to be the goddess
or to even respect myself enough not to let that be the case. ever again.

here’s to the lost ones,
whom we tried to save from ourselves
for whatever reasons;
for my girls who’ve been through it, i love you & can guarantee that god loves us anyway, no matter what, all of the time.
look at the grace in your life. give thanks for where you are now.
you are a whole, beautiful, divine, capable, magical being.
you have the power to choose where your life goes. you are not bad. you are not ugly, you are neither a waste of woman nor are you scarred.
you are NOT used goods.
you are blessed.
you are not a coward.
remember that on the days it hurts the most. be glad that you’re here.
somos luchadores, hermanas. somos supervivientes. somos guerreras fuertes.
please, i implore you, do not give up on yourselves. love you for all you are. you need to.

so that if you choose to go down that road again, you can hold your head high & be thankful that you’re better prepared.
& that if you choose not to, you’re at peace w/ that and can STILL hold your head high
because you’re a child of the creator.

don’t let anyone or anything take from you who you are.
every hair on your coochie, you have earned. through everything, you are your own. you are god’s. we only do this stream of consciousness once. no do-overs, no take-backs.

so through the mourning, find that laughter & smile
get to the point of bliss
& be thankful

because you most certainly coulda curled up and died a long, long time ago.

(inspired by omi, who every day reminds me of who i wanna be when i grow up; for oyin, who is the most beautiful geechee woman i know; for melissa, who first held the mirror up to my face; for la flaca, who’s stronger than she knows, & for sg whom i want to know that it’s okay to let go of all of that bullshit.)

i feel like writing again today.

after a really good, short wknd in new york i’ve had time to reflect on some things. thankfully, it’s all come out (relatively) coherently.

redemption means the act, process, or an instance of redeeming. to redeem, by definition, is to release from blame or debt, to change for the better, to free from the consequences of sin, to repair or restore (those are just a few of the numerous definitions). in general terms, to redeem is to right a wrong, to restore balance & order. i used to struggle almost incessantly w/ the concept of redeeming myself. i was nearly obsessed with changing folks’ perceptions of me, or at least making myself very clear about certain things. the last thing i wanted was to be misunderstood, or have folks decide for me who i was. it was a constant thing w/ me. always, always, always trying to slay every dragon & lay misconceptions to rest. if i didn’t leave a big tip at a restaurant, i was freaking out because i didn’t want my server to think i was a rude or cheap person. it was getting out of hand.

of course, as i’ve lived more life i’ve come to realize something. regardless of my intention, ppl will think what they want to. they will take offense or think i’m noble regardless of what ithink of what i’m doing. simple enough, right? i can only ever be myself & do me. if that changes how someone thinks/ feels about me or anything else, so be it. also, my motto is “it’s not that serious.” think what you wanna, we both have shit to do & lives to lead. it’s not that serious. ever. i can’t stop dead in my tracks because someone doesn’t like me. i can try to hash out differences w/ folks & sometimes you gotta agree to disagree. but that’s okay. i don’t have to redeem myself because someone thinks the sky is green when i say it’s blue. i’m not gonna put all that energy into making someone understand me when it’s clear they aren’t able to or just don’t wanna. that doesn’t cause me to care any less about maintaining my own standards. but, i suppose that since human beings are social there’ll always be part of me desires connection w/ others . . . & an extension of that would be the reflection of my values by others, or a validation by others. it ultimately doesn’t matter as much as being at peace w/ my life, i do know that much.

i think that maybe redemption was so important to me because the feelings i’d get from being misunderstood were so greatly & deeply troubling for me. maybe i’ve watched the last scene of the color purple one time too damn many & thought i’d have a touching moment in the sunset, playing hand games w/ my long lost redemption as justice, fairness, honesty, righteousness, & peace watched us from the porch of a big old farm house. i never got it, though. i’d battle w/ ppl, raise the most miniscule points, & badger them w/ what i thought they should believe about me. it was wasteful of my time & energy. i spent so much time trying to correct folk, i missed some crucial things.

i’m better now. over it, for the most part.

& i guess that’s because i know my peace of mind comes from the part of god that is in me. all the balance is in me, just mine to create outwardly. my peace of mind cannot be tied to another human being.

do you remember?

it was btwn christmas & new year’s 2001, or maybe just after new year’s. filo’s. tasty treats. it was so small down there, so tight. i was w/ my girl sarah, & i think you were w/ some random friend of yours. a girl. skinny, tall. i wasn’t drunk. just tipsy, enjoying the freedom of not having my boyfriend around. he was a wet blanket sometimes & never wanted to go out. but sarah was home from oberlin, & always looking to cut a rug since we were finally 21.
she & i had found our way towards the stairs, cuz we’d been thinking about leaving . . . or maybe because it was so hot by the ?uestlove’s table we were tryna find air.
everyone in that place was tryna find air, i think.

de la soul. baby phat. i loved that song. i still do. i kinda went crazy when it came on, dancing like nobody was around.
but i wanted someone to come get close; even in a place like filo’s, where it feels like a crowded church revival. & you did. right behind me, moving in perfect time. sarah whispered in my ear, “he’s cute.” i made the “giiiirrrrrrrrrrrrllll, i know” face & kept dancing.
you asked if we were leaving
i said “we were gonna, but we’ll stay until it closes down.”

i don’t remember much else. you offered me some of your vanilla stoli + tonic (or was that your homegirl?). i loved it. i thought you were beautiful. & i never like dudes lighter than i am. never.
i wanted to ask you if maybe we could hook up some time. i wanted to know you. i wanted to know if your hands were as soft as they looked, what your hair smelled like (other than sudanese frankincense, dulled by the stench of cigarette-heavy air) . . . i wanted to know you.
& when i said we were leaving, we exchanged names
& i said, “maybe i’ll see you here again? i come here rather often.”
you were like, “nah, i’m leaving for england.” like, that next day.
i felt a little stab in my heart. i let the whole “we should exchange e-mail addresses” thing fall by the wayside.
i wasn’t gonna see you
you’d have a fabulous time in england & i wouldn’t even be more than a faint reminder of home
i was sad about that, & couldn’t figure out why
until one day maybe 3 months ago
it all came flooding back to me.

i met you at filo’s, met you again through a mutual friend about 4 years later & couldn’t place your familiarity. we started hanging out, & i never could quite figure you out. why were you so familiar? i’m sure you asked yourself the same questions about me. we’d talk about places we’d both been around the city & agreed that we’d probably crossed paths a few hundred times. i dated your close friend’s cousin. we had several mutual associates/ friends. i kept asking myself why i hadn’t met you sooner.
only i had
& so i was wondering if maybe you’d pop up again in 4 years or so,
a slightly different man
w/ a new cache of stories
back to stoli + tonic, maybe still on leffe

either way,
i know it was you.

do you remember?

the universe is so big, yet the way it rearranges itself can be deceptive.