Good afternoon world! Usually I would hope this blog finds you in good health and even better spirits, but I’m pretty sure you can tell by the title that I’m looking to upset somebody. So why waste the time and energy hoping you’re happy if I plan on trying my hardest to change that? But enough about the introduction, let’s get right into why we’re here today…
This all started as a innocuous Facebook post, as most things do nowadays. The conversation was originally about Donald Sterling’s ignorant ass comments regarding Magic Johnson. If you aren’t familiar with the dumb shit that ignorant bastard let come out his mouth, check out the link..
As the conversation on Facebook continued, one individual blamed Magic and other celebrities for not doing more to uplift and rebuild the black community. His stance was that they owed it to us as their adoring public to lead us back to the right path, as black leaders had done in the past. Anybody that knows me knows this did nothing but incite me. I hate, no wait DESPISE, the idea that the black race needs a single leader out front to show us the way. Other races don’t have an appointed or assumed leader, why do we need one? Admittedly, there was a period in time when we needed someone to speak for us as a whole. But that time has since come to an end. And frankly, we’ll never see two gentlemen come along like those in the picture below.
Now, I’m not here to try and make it sound like there aren’t problems in the black community. I would be as naive as the previously mentioned gentleman if I believed that. But we can’t look to one person or a group of people to fix the problems that we face. It’s up to us to do that. And until each and every black person in this country realizes that it is their responsibility, no it’s their duty, to make sure they do their part to improve their surrounding conditions, we’ll never see any progress.
I think the problem is that we want to see grand scale changes made in our neighborhoods. There’s nothing wrong with that, but even the smallest contribution helps. We have to start somewhere. And the best place to start is at home. We have to teach our children how to be respectable members of society. We have to teach our sons how to be gentlemen. We have to teach our daughters how to be ladies. I understand that’s not going to automatically undo all the crap that our elders endured in this country over the last 400+ years, but its a place to start.
I’m not saying we don’t have to affect wholesale changes in our communities in order to get them to where they should be. We need businesses (especially black-owned businesses) to invest in our neighborhoods to revitalize them. But we can’t expect any business owner to honestly open up a location in our neighborhoods if they look like war zones. That’s where the residents come in. We have to take pride in where we live if we want entrepreneurs and CEOs to see our communities as being viable options for their businesses.
But the change has to start from within. We can’t affect or expect change if we’re doing the same things. I’m gonna get off of my soapbox for now. So until next time, peace and love…
Good afternoon world. As I sit here and stare out the window at a beautiful early spring day in Atlanta, I can’t help but feel… horrible. I feel absolutely, positively, unequivocally like shit. And this isn’t the first day I’ve felt like this. Hell, I’m still trying to remember the last time I actually felt good. Or was genuinely happy. I know one thing, its been a long damn time. I also know something else, some shit has got to change. The reason I’ve decided to talk about it is because I think I’m more comfortable about what’s going on in my head now than I have been in the past. That’s not to say I’m comfortable with the way I feel, but it doesn’t make me feel as uneasy as it has previously. So let’s get right into it, shall we?
For as long as I can honestly remember (which is a lot longer than I’m willing to admit), I have had a very hard time controlling my mood. Let me clarify. That doesn’t mean that I’m prone to unexpected mood swings. But if I wake up and feel bad, I feel BAD. And that dark cloud is liable to stay over me for the day. Sometimes, multiple days. Or weeks. Or months. When I was younger, I dealt with this by drinking. Heavily. And bedding pretty much any female that came my way. As I entered my twenties, the prevailing thought by those that were closest to me was that I suffered from depression. I never sought a professional opinion about this because the thought of being on medication to control my mood just completely bothered the fuck out of me. So instead of seeking help, I continued with what had worked for me in the past.
Now here I am, 33 years old and facing those old demons once again. Except this time, the vices and crutches that were effective in the past no longer work. I wake up every morning and almost have to convince myself that life is still worth living. There are some days that are not as bad as others, but that’s like trying to differentiate between dying by lethal injection or the electric chair. Neither offers a very promising future. Unlike before, I did go about seeking a professional’s opinion. I went to go see a psychiatrist (instead of a psychologist, as I was advised to do). After talking with her for a couple of hours and telling her about all the dark places in my head, she said that what I described sounded like Bipolar Disorder and suggested that after a few more sessions, I begin taking medication. No offense to anyone that suffers from Bipolar Disorder, but that ain’t the kid. My emotional pendulum doesn’t swing wildly, it tends to stay stuck in one position and it feels like it almost takes an act of God for it move ever so slightly. So once again, I’m staring the D word right in the face. And while I’m still a bit apprehensive about taking medication, my stance on it has softened considerably. I mean if it helps me get back to being me, it’s worth a try. Right?
Enough with the dark and sad shit, let’s get to the good part…
After quite a bit of contemplation, I’ve come to the decision that my time in Atlanta needs to come to an end. Again. For the third time, right? So what makes this time different than the others? This time, I think it might be permanent. It feels like it needs to be. Or at least, for the foreseeable future. Now I know what you’re thinking: where we will he go? I’ve decided (at least for right now) to go back to St. Louis. Being there puts me in a good location to be able to jump up and go see the faces that I think can make me smile just about whenever I want to. I would be a few hours away from my family, which I love dearly even though I ignore them most of the time. I would be in the same city as a woman that has meant a great deal to me for a very long time. And before you start trying to figure out which female from sorted past I could be referring to, I’m talking about the woman I affectionately refer to as my mom. Get your minds out of the gutter and those trashy romance novels. This decision was not reached frivolously. I really had to take some time and do some soul searching.
The one conundrum in all of this grandiose planning of mine is a certain young lady that has made off with my heart like thief in the night. As much as I would LOVE to move to be closer to her, I think doing so now would cause more damage to our relationship than any good it would do. Right now, I really need to get myself back to being the person that everybody knows and loves me being. Or at the very least, as close to him as I can get. I know this news might come to the chagrin of a few people (I’m sorry) and the delight of some others (Yay), but I had to make this call. It’s what I feel is best for me at this point in my life. And right now, that has to be my priority. Hell, I have to be my priority.
I haven’t really worked out the details for how I’m going to make this all happen. Those will hopefully unveil themselves over the coming weeks and months. But I do have a timetable. I plan to be back in Missouri by this time, next year. By any means necessary, to steal a line from Malcolm X.
I understand there might be a few of you that could give a flying fuck about where I am geographically, you wanna know where I stand creatively. Rest assured that my book will get completed. Hopefully, by the end of the summer. With that being said, the second and third books in the series will follow shortly. I think I’m just going to keep writing once I’m done with the first one, instead of taking a break between manuscripts. So, there’s no need to worry. And I’m also brainstorming about another book idea. And I’m still working on that book of poetry that I’ve been talking about for some years now.
One more thing and I’ll let you guys go. If you know me, I mean really know me, I need your help. If at any time you’re free, please come spend time with me. Drag me, kicking and screaming, out of my funk if you have to. I don’t care what we do, I just need that interaction with people to bring me out of the darkness. That’s the one thing that’s different now as opposed to the past. My social circle was always within reach. Being around my friends, family and loved ones has a way of dispelling the clouds and allowing the sun to shine upon me.
Can’t you tell that I’m totally in love with the English language, as most writers are?
That’s all I got for you good people today. Like always, peace and love until the next time we meet…
A tall, Blonde, hazel eyed Arian Beauty walked into my Black-owned, professionally-hood barber shop today, greeted by a cascade of compliments, as each patron’s brown eyes followed her from the very moment she got out of her car.
She had successfully made it pass the dozen Brown Skinned Beauties standing outside of the barbershop, staring daggers at her.
There are always at least a dozen Black Women standing outside my barbershop, dressed in club attire, hair freshly done, make-up on point, high heel game vicious, wearing their best body suit or mini skirt.
These Women have careers, own businesses & are in grad school, pre law, & pre med, yet they commute at least once a week to stand in front of a barbershop, like it is a night club line, for at most an hour…
Yo. We’re gonna bypass all the clever greetings and snarky introductions for the day. I just, I just don’t feel it right now. I know its been a while since I wrote in my blog, you know its been a while since I wrote in my blog. There’s no need to beat the dead horse. For the few of you that read this and are my friend on Facebook, you know I haven’t been in the best of moods today. For those of you that missed it, let me recap.
I woke up this morning and was unequivocably, undeniably, unabashedly pissed smooth the fuck off. Now I know what you’re thinking, plenty of people wake up in a bad mood. This is true. But most of them, I’d say somewhere around 85% or more, know why they are in said bad mood. That was not the case for me this morning. Like most people that are feeling like sour grapes, I tried to pass the blame off on someone/something else. Once I realized that wouldn’t work, I lashed out at somebody. And for that, I am truly sorry. But once all of that was out of the way and I was still standing there fuming, I didn’t know what to do. I tried to meditate to no avail. I tried prayer and got the same result. I even tried to be passive aggressive about the whole thing and post a status on Facebook. No dice, the kid was still steaming mad.
As I sat, stewing, the overwhelming urge to be mindlessly violent kept coming to the surface. Thank God, cooler heads (or at least inclement weather) prevailed. So I turned to the next best thing, alcohol. Now, I’m not drunk or even buzzed while writing this but I felt like I needed a little bit of liquor in my system to help me find my way out of the haunted forest that is my own mind. But in the end, all that did was help me realize that I needed to take a shower.
But in the shower, that’s where things got kinda interesting. As the warm water ran over me, I had an epiphany. I need help. And not just any kind of help. I think I might need professionally licensed help. And that kinda scares me.
In my opinion visual self expression, is the most creative way to convey a message without using verbal communication. Once upon of time, visible tattoos, abnormal piercings, and non-traditional hair styles, were shunned upon in corporate America. Realistically, that mindset still holds true today, especially in regards to tattoos. Should we allow that mentality make us succumb to the pressures of conforming to society’s view of an appropriate image?
According to Meredith Haberfield, of Meredith Haberfield Coaching, 37 percent of HR managers cite tattoos as the third physical attribute most likely to limit career potential.
No matter how you spin it, judging one’s appearance based on their looks can be considered a form of discrimination disqualifying you from a job unknowingly.
Professional athletes, musicians, and actors may have the luxury of displaying their art freely, but for the rest of us, it is suggested to do so in moderation. Here…
I am happy to join with you today in what will go down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.
Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.
But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.
In a sense we’ve come to our nation’s capital to cash a check. When the architects of our republic wrote the magnificent words of the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, they were signing a promissory note to which every American was to fall heir. This note was a promise that all men, yes, black men as well as white men, would be guaranteed the “unalienable Rights” of “Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.” It is obvious today that America has defaulted on this promissory note, insofar as her citizens of color are concerned. Instead of honoring this sacred obligation, America has given the Negro people a bad check, a check which has come back marked “insufficient funds.”
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation. And so, we’ve come to cash this check, a check that will give us upon demand the riches of freedom and the security of justice.
We have also come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now. This is no time to engage in the luxury of cooling off or to take the tranquilizing drug of gradualism. Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God’s children.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. Nineteen sixty-three is not an end, but a beginning. And those who hope that the Negro needed to blow off steam and will now be content will have a rude awakening if the nation returns to business as usual. And there will be neither rest nor tranquility in America until the Negro is granted his citizenship rights. The whirlwinds of revolt will continue to shake the foundations of our nation until the bright day of justice emerges.
But there is something that I must say to my people, who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice: In the process of gaining our rightful place, we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again, we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force.
The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom.
We cannot walk alone.
And as we walk, we must make the pledge that we shall always march ahead.
We cannot turn back.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their self-hood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating: “For Whites Only.” We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until “justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.”
I am not unmindful that some of you have come here out of great trials and tribulations. Some of you have come fresh from narrow jail cells. And some of you have come from areas where your quest — quest for freedom left you battered by the storms of persecution and staggered by the winds of police brutality. You have been the veterans of creative suffering. Continue to work with the faith that unearned suffering is redemptive. Go back to Mississippi, go back to Alabama, go back to South Carolina, go back to Georgia, go back to Louisiana, go back to the slums and ghettos of our northern cities, knowing that somehow this situation can and will be changed.
Let us not wallow in the valley of despair, I say to you today, my friends.
And so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.
I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.”
I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood.
I have a dream that one day even the state of Mississippi, a state sweltering with the heat of injustice, sweltering with the heat of oppression, will be transformed into an oasis of freedom and justice.
I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day, down in Alabama, with its vicious racists, with its governor having his lips dripping with the words of “interposition” and “nullification” — one day right there in Alabama little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers.
I have a dream today!
I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; “and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.”
This is our hope, and this is the faith that I go back to the South with.
With this faith, we will be able to hew out of the mountain of despair a stone of hope. With this faith, we will be able to transform the jangling discords of our nation into a beautiful symphony of brotherhood. With this faith, we will be able to work together, to pray together, to struggle together, to go to jail together, to stand up for freedom together, knowing that we will be free one day.
And this will be the day — this will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with new meaning:
My country ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing.
Land where my fathers died, land of the Pilgrim’s pride,
From every mountainside, let freedom ring!
And if America is to be a great nation, this must become true.
And so let freedom ring from the prodigious hilltops of New Hampshire.
Let freedom ring from the mighty mountains of New York.
Let freedom ring from the heightening Alleghenies of Pennsylvania.
Let freedom ring from the snow-capped Rockies of Colorado.
Let freedom ring from the curvaceous slopes of California.
But not only that:
Let freedom ring from Stone Mountain of Georgia.
Let freedom ring from Lookout Mountain of Tennessee.
Let freedom ring from every hill and molehill of Mississippi.
From every mountainside, let freedom ring.
And when this happens, when we allow freedom ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual:
Free at last! Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
So I’ve been sitting at my laptop for a few hours, staring at a blank screen on WordPress while thinking about what I wanted to write about today. In that time, I realized that not only do I have a toothache, but I also really don’t have anything to rant about at this time (hopefully, that’ll change sometime soon). Since I couldn’t come up with a topic to write about, I decided to share another poem. Hope you enjoy…
They say love is a many splendor thing
I think pain and heartache are what love brings
Love is supposed to be the best emotion of all
I believe love is like taking a long fall
Why are so many people falling victim to this shit
Like love is the only reason that we exist
I tend to agree with the L.O.X. on this
Money, power and respect are at the top of my list
I’m thinking love falls in the middle, around 5 or 6
And if you see Cupid, tell him I said, “Flip bricks!”
I know you’re wondering what could’ve happened to me
The romantic trauma I suffered must’ve been devastating
It’s nothing like that; I’ve just come to my senses
And the mere mention of love sets off all my defenses
I’ve been in love a time or two
And I believe that love makes men into fools
We end up in stores holding purses and shit
And answering questions like, “Do I look good in this?”
Maybe it’s not love I have a problem with
Just the senseless rigmarole that comes with it
Who really has the patience to date nowadays
It seems like everyone’s just out to get laid
I’m looking for that deep down, butterfly giving, soul stirring love
The kind that makes you think that person was sent from the heavens above
I want a soul mate, not a fucking booty call
I want somebody who’s down to be there through it all
A partner in all that life brings, whether it’s good or bad
Someone who’s an instant pick-me-up whenever I’m sad
But since no one else in the world is looking for that
I guess me will love I because I’ll always love me back
Good afternoon world! I hope this blog finds you in good health and even better spirits. I know its been a while since I’ve shown my face and let the voices in my head have their way with my fingers and keyboard. Normally, I would issue a half-hearted apology and some thin ass excuse as to why I’ve been absent. I’m not gonna do that this time. In all honesty, there’s been quite a few things going on in my life that needed my attention and I didn’t just put my blog on the back burner, I took it off the stove. For that, I sincerely and wholeheartedly apologize. Not so much because I think the world needs to hear what I have to say or that my massive following couldn’t live without me (let me make it clear, I truly love and appreciate anybody that takes the time to read my craziness). This blog is where I come to decompress and I’ve been denying myself that release. I’ve got to do better. But enough about that, let’s get to what brings us together today.
The other day (don’t ask me exactly when because I don’t remember), I was reading a post on my new favorite website, Single Black Male entitled: I’m A Black Woman – Unmarried Without Kids. And as I read, I realized that everything that everything the author was describing, has happened or happens to me so I decided to write about those experiences.
As I’ve said before on numerous occasions, I’m a 32 year old black man that has never been married and has no children. Before we go on, let me dispel some of the assumptions that are automatically cast in my direction when people learn about my marital status and lack of dependents. I am not just getting home from a long prison stretch. I am not “emotionally damaged and unable to love and fully devote myself to a woman”. I don’t “hate kids”. I have not resigned myself to a life as a confirmed bachelor. I am neither gay nor on the “Down Low”. And while there is absolutely nothing wrong with being homosexual, everything and its mama is wrong with a man being on the DL but that’s a conversation to be saved for another day.
The main reason that I am both single and childless to this day is because I have yet to find the right situation. That’s not to say I’ve never had a serious relationship or been in love, quite the contrary. What I’m trying to say is that I haven’t had the right combination of a woman I want to spend my life with and my own readiness to settle down. Hell, over the years, I’ve had more than my fair share of chances to procreate. But that’s not really what I want from my life. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: I’m not really built to just be somebody’s baby daddy.
I find it both completely hilarious and absolutely depressing that more men can’t make the claims as me. What the fuck has happened to our society? I think that’s all I’ve got for today, but I’ll probably revisit this topic at a later day and time. So until we see each other again, peace and love…
In My Own Words... 