Gone Now

But in reality, he was the one that left me.

What I felt was so real. So real that it was surreal. Like I was breathing some of heaven's fresh air. Undeniably, I was invested. A wise woman once told me that you keep the man that wants you, not the man you want.
I waited, debated, anticipated, nursed, prayed, pushed, and shoved and I came out worse than I went in...yet, in some ways, much better. I gave second and third chances when in reality, neither was deserved. We ran our course, and thats that. Thanks for the memories. No need for anything more to be said. Lets not rehash what I already know. I was tired.
A tired woman, she don't have much patience after so long. Every little thing is crucial. Every interaction is a chance for things to go uphill, or sour. Nobody wants to deal with a stream of sour. Like some wrenching suction draining my enthusiasm and energy.
But what happens next is simply a move forward - regardless of the who, the why, and the what for. I don't owe anyone an explanation, and although circumstances are not perfection, this energy is ridiculous. I need that energy.
I am not the one who left; he was gone long ago. I just had the courage to abandon the empty seat beside me.

Jay Illa

Jay Illa is probably my favorite DJ in Chicago...not that others aren't great, its just that, quite frankly, Jay actually plays shit I wanna hear. Consecutively. He never has an "off" night, or a "blah" set. The best thing about Jay is that he never sells out to the crowd. He plays whatever he wants, which alot of DJs cannot attest to. Never, never, never in my experience have I ever seen Jay not rock a venue. And I'm not just saying that cause I know him. Jay is most definitely "Illa Than Most".

One Year Later

One.

Year.

Later.

Part of me still doesn't believe that Brittnii is gone, and least of all, I feel like its impossible that an entire year went by without her. I woke up at six something this morning, around the time of her passing last year, and I cried. She may have been here, I don't know. Under normal circumstances, I don't wake up at 6am.
We fought like aggravated pitbulls on a bad day, but on a good day, that was my roadie. No matter how much she pinched my nerve, I never left her without. I knew that she relied on me to deliver, and I always did.
Its funny now because, before, she used to try and make us proud. Make us feel good about her and her accomplishments. I now wonder if she looks on me and feel that I did her proud. One thing about Brittnii...she did her. Lived her life to the fullest. I know that I haven't, but I know that I should.
I realized this morning, that I can talk to her. And although she can't talk back, I can talk to her. Sometimes I don't have alot to say, but I know she is listening.
I promise I will do better.

A.D.I.D.A.S.

I don't know what happened. Its like the universe just decided that I should never get any....ever again in life. Maybe I am wearing a chastity belt that only others can see.

I have been going without for a very long time...longer than anyone would ever guess. But since I'm not thirsty, I dont go bending over backwards for every Tom, Dick, and Harry. So, I remain untampered with.

But what do I do when I want to be tampered with??? I just feel like sex is not in my reach. I'm not in a situation where I can just decide I want some, and then get it. Clearly, I have an issue on my hands.
And speaking of hands, thats the advice that my girlfriends give - when you aint got a man, you got a hand. Well, ladies...I dont go injecting my fingers into orifices other than my mouth when its feeding time, so that solution is a dead one. And of course, the rubber, jelly-filled robotic penis is not my forte'. A vibrator does not have hands, lips, and legs, and all that other stuff, like, you know, blood running through its veins, so it cannot satisfy me.
I'm just left feeling wanton for something that I cannot have. I feel like I'm turning into a man, because literally, all day, I am thinking about sex. I wake up thinking about it, and I go to sleep thinking about it. Not a single day passes when I dont think about doing the nasty. I'm not an intensely sexual person, so I dont know where this comes from...but the flames need to be put out, and not simply fanned.

Downbottom

eyes wide shut
living life loose
with
no shield, but several veils
upon her focals
unable to focus
unable to see
without blinders
damned blinders and clipped wings
she dims her own light
something happened to her
self-worth so low
so low
so downlow
inevitably stooped
to this
remnants of what was a woman

of solidarity
now a woman of disparity
a woman with no clarity
a reduction
of
self-love
lost

Porn Can Get You Merked

Not to make light of a serious situation, but this is why people really shouldn't hide stuff from their mate...this is really a message for you downlow dudes...
----------------------------
Porn led to slaying, prosecutors say
By Jason Meisner Tribune staff reporter
1:29 PM CDT, October 3, 2007 ....

A Chicago woman who became enraged after discovering her longtime boyfriend's stash of pornography shot and killed him in their South Side home over the weekend, prosecutors said.Jeanette Strowder, 58, is facing a first-degree murder charge in the Sunday shooting of Jesse Martin, 54, her boyfriend of about 15 years, police said.Strowder and Martin lived together in the 5300 block of South Shields Avenue for the last two years, prosecutors said during a Tuesday hearing where Strowder was ordered held on $600,000 bail. On Sunday night, she found CDs inside the home containing images of nude women and lost control, authorities said.

"The defendant confronted the victim, got a gun and shot him multiple times, including two to the head," said Andy Conklin, a spokesman for the Cook County state's attorney's office.Strowder also went to the garage and smashed the headlights of her boyfriend's motorcycle, smashed out the windows of his car, and scratched the nickname of one of the porn models in the photographs into the side of his car, prosecutors said.Strowder then called the victim's daughter and told her "something had happened to her father," Conklin said. The daughter called police.Officers found Strowder sitting in a chair in the front yard holding a .357-caliber revolver. As they approached, she put the gun to her head, pointed it at police and put it back to her head before dropping it to the ground, prosecutors said. The gun was recovered with six spent cartridges, authorities said.Strowder gave a videotaped confession, according to prosecutors. She has no prior criminal history. Criminal Court Judge Raymond Myles set an Oct. 22 court date for Strowder, Conklin said.
Copyright © 2007, Chicago Tribune

Represent

All this about whats real hip hop, and who is real hip hop is a snoozer. I guess you could say, Im a little on the pharcyde of things. Aint really none of this music thats out hip hop. Nas is right - hip hop is dead. Sorry, it is. And I know Mik can understand this, per her blog from awhile back (which I tried to respond to, but for whatever reason it didnt post, sorry Mik).

Instead of trying to beat the dead horse, we need to just embrace it and say, okay, the hip hop era is dead, as is the jazz era, the swing era, and the other eras that have passed. It was a time and place where 'being hip hop' was where it was at (about '91 til I would say about '99). There are some that try to keep the tempo going, but to me, thats more like hip hope - they hope that someone (probably me) will still feel what their doing. I miss hip hop, because when I first discovered it, I was truly enthralled. I was in sixth grade and my homegirl's brother used to play that 106.3 when it was ONLY basement music like Common, Pharcyde, Aceyalone, and Roots and shit. I was like, man, I love this music...it was different. I knew that I liked De La and all that, but something about when you put them all together...it was just different. It wasn't until eighth grade that, at my high school visitation, that I realized, wow, these people are like me. It was a whole school of them. At my grade school, my main buddy and I were kinda outcasted because of the way we dress, and the kinds of music and shit we were into. If it wasn't Tupac, they werent having it.
At any rate, I was madly, truly, deeply hip hop 'til the casket drops...
But what blows me is people who claim they are die hard, yet know nothing. I started crushing in '92, and fell head-first in '94. Those who are premies in the game have the nerve to step up with non-credible, new age bullshit. Well call me, To Sir, With Love because I'mma school the masses (and teach them some manners). Firstly, hip hop is a culture. Its not just music; its a way of life. I once heard someone compare it to being a Rastafarian, in the sense that, its a whole implementation of a subculture. The four major elements of hip hop are: the art of dance and/or expression through dance (i.e breaking, capoeira), emceeing (i.e. rhyming, poetry), art/visual expression (i.e. graphing, tagging), and deejaying. I could go a little deeper, but this is just for surface purposes.
Now, there were alot of naysayers that would (some still will) try to petition my authenticity, and question my devotion to this culture and everything that it consists of for various reasons: permed hair (at the time), makeup (which I dont really wear, just lip gloss and maybe, maybe, currently, mascara), and probably because I didnt break or really rhyme. I guess because I didnt change my name to Shakeelah Sunflower, I wasnt really 'down' for the cause. But the irony of it all is that, the main chicks (or dudes in some cases) that would try to label us 'toys' are the same people today who you never see or hear actually supporting hip hop. And some of the ones that 'represent hard', are straight up fake. I had a girl write me recently, "Oh I didn't know you were a 'b-gyrl'. That used to be my steelo back in high school..." Now this blew me because, even though she is cool, its people like her, that would've tried to test me way back when. If its something that is truly representative of you, then wouldn't be a passing phase. And if its a passing phase, then its really not representative of you. You are not hip hop. Young Jeezy is not hip hop. Nelly is not hip hop. D4L is not hip hop. These artists, and I use that term loosely, may make you want to shake a tailfeather in the club, but the reality is that, they do not represent hip hop.

I'm not saying that I epitomize the culture, but I feel that I still represent hip hop; just more refined. As an adult, I know that I dont have to 'prove' myself by saying peace to the gods and the earth after every sentence, and wearing clothes that are twice my size - compared to high school, where, you made it point to show dedication at any given expense. I am still the same person that will rock the Adidas track suit, or play "Itsoweezee" in the car. Im not embarassed to share my musical tastes and day that yes, I do listen to Tribe, but I also listen to Brandy. And I can see this same characteristic in my peers that rolled in the same circles as I did (all you people that I see at D'Vine that used to frequent the Point, this includes you too) - yeah it was cool back then, but now, we're grown, so we do us, like grown folk do. What blows me the most is the people that will wear their garbs and locks, and go on stage in the smoky, boho club and speak some words off their lips that 'flow like water', and still, to this day, claim they are realer than me because I dont represent in the same way they do - but when, no, really, WHEN did they fall in love with hip hop? Probably yesterday.