Post # 338: En Route... Final Destination?

Sunday morning I'm headed to Chicago.

I'll be there for a week and a day.

I'm not excited as I was yesterday because I know that I'm not going home. I know that I'm going to visit the city I was born and raised and that's a good thing. I know that I probably need to unwind and de-stress. I also know that there are family and friends that I'll see that'll probably satisfy the urge to have more than a few friendly faces, spaces and places that'll put me more at ease than I am here...

But Chicago is not my home.

Never has been.

I still know that there are a few places and circles where I won't be welcome and that comes with the territory, but that ain't it either.

The reason I'm not excited any more is because I realized that I don't have a home and I'll probably never have one.

I think it has something to do with me moving around a lot as a kid. I joined the military and moved around some more. When I got out, I kept on jumping around and still am right now. So here I sit prospecting on where I lay my head next, using my Chi-Town visit as a springboard feeling kind of guilty that I endeared myself to a few kind and wonderful folks here in Texas...

It ain't their fault.

I'll go to the Chi, take a bunch of pictures, record a few verses, drum up some new business, see some sites and sit with old friends and make a determination on where to next. Wish me luck and use a prayer bead on me, someone had the mitigated gall to sell me plane tickets and allowed me to have a rental car. They don't know how dangerous that really is with me at the helm.

So... Be well, play nice and thanks for stopping by my spot on the internet, I've enjoyed the company. Hopefully I'll get the opportunity and the urge to want to continue to do my thing. Until then, I'll hit the pause button and try to recharge my batteries.

And gain a little hope.

And inspiration.

I'm really not feeling it...

I'm coming off my so-called weekend and am dreading that moment when I hit the door at work.

I really haven't felt like dealing with the blog for a minute, so I haven't. That piece I wrote the other day really isn't a poem. Well to me it isn't. It is a literal interpretation of how I feel right now. Not that I'm depressed or angry at myself or anything, it's just... I feel burnt out right now. My energy levels aren't where they're supposed to be so I really need next week to happen right now. I leave for Chicago then, and I think I just need to be still somewhere and just let the city I was born and raised drown me with its offerings.

I do miss that.

So much to do and so little time in a place that barely sleeps. 

All I wanna do is have a few drinks, sit in a few outdoor cafes until 3am and see people that I recognize and not be in an environment that stymies my creativity. I believe a week or more in Chicago can do that. I also need to sit with my father and kick it with my lil bruh.

That'll be nice.

Then maybe I won't feel like I'm wasting my time because I'm not really feeling like I'm doing anything worth anything here in Houston. I done messed up for real.

Y'all be easy and remember:

Lock it on PBS at 8pm tonight to see 4 Black journalists poll the presidential candidates for the first time ever. I just wish a few republicans could have made the trip... I mean, I ain't no democrat but I thank Tavis anyway.

Reach

I done messed up...
I done messed up badly

It doesn't come to me any more

I'm stuck

It's all my fault

I've fallen behind and now I'm sinking.
It's not a bad thing yet
and I'm not angry about it
I just have to do something

I have to reach

By doing this things have to be destroyed,
reconfigured
It will be rebuilt
I must reach out and grab it before I
permanently lose it because it's going

I don't know what I'll do if I become
lost, it got so dark so quickly and now I
have to find my way.
I feel my way through but I seem to have
lost the hand that was guiding me
If I lose that there is no saving grace
But all is not lost.

I have a contingency

In my mind is the indelible image of
where I am to become
In the depths of my racing thoughts is the one
slow moving and stable process that will
save my soul
Embedded in my heart are the orders and
constructs that direct to rebuild the I
that is me thus saving my soul from an
eternity of fraud, waste and abuse

All I have to do is reach for it
All I have to do is capture it

All I must do is refocus all of my
energies and not be afraid to hold it in
my hand, it will edify my soul

Just the thought of it has given me hope,
but I know I must destroy

somethings
some places
dependency on

some people

But I done messed up
I messed up badly

I became stuck
Motionless

I became muddled in the mundane, stifled
in the stickiness of a frozen mind state.
I became what I tried to avoid in this, the
second act of my life

I became one of them and now I am ashamed of what I've become

I transformed into the trivial, morphed
into non-matter and became aloof in my
selfishness

I almost missed my call

I was moments away from ignoring the
voices... Those who have guided me and
kept me honest with self and the universe.
I nearly missed the jolt that jump started
my comrades into cultural jihad by simply
standing

in the wrong place

I'm not supposed to be here
I'm not supposed to be here
I'm not supposed to be here in this place right now

I have not received a single transmission
because my latitude and longitude does
not register on the wavelength of the
rebel transmission

I done messed up and now I must gather my
items, pack my tent and stuff my knapsack

and travel towards the sound


All is not lost, for I have a contingency
I just need to


reach

recapture

refocus


And be where I am of most use to the
omnipotent and serve out my days as
his
hers
their


Apostle


By fixing this mess and putting myself in the right place.

2007 Hassan Olumoroti Ntimbanjayo, ya dig?

Post #335 - Life Gettin' In The Way...

I started the week pretty good.

I planned on blogging every day this week. I even gave myself a homework assignment in watching the Spike Lee 2000 joint 'Bamboozled'. I needed to see the flick again seeing as the last time I watched it was on network TV and all of the goodness was sucked out of it due to network editing. I wish I would have mentioned it in advance and made it a suggestion because I encountered more than a few folks that haven't seen this gem.

By the time I got to Thursday I had forgotten what day of the week it was. I seriously got confused dealing with my kidney stones, going back to work after working 7 straight days and dealing with some workplace drama that I had to put to bed and drama from a close friend that required me to step in and actually do something.

I hate when that happens.

Real life kicks in and the fate of someones life is in your and a few other's hands and I get scared when decisions have to be made because shit can backfire...

Let's hope that does not happen.

To my surprise I got name dropped by a former homey... Lover... Friend's blog this week. I am glad things are well in the old neighborhood and I wish her and hers very well, and many more birthdays. Happy and successful is a good look.

I got new toys to play with in making music. For all of those concerned, I live in a Pro Tools environment. Thank the lord. Eight new tracks done and a few more to go before I hit the road in August.

Damn, I'm busy. I started this at 2 O'clock this afternoon and I don't have anything left right now and I got 4 more hours to go over here at Big Oil.

My week will end in a busy maze of work and worrying about my dear friend. I'm sending out a general prayer memo for my close friend, my ex and her continued success and my sanity. It ain't the workplace drama, it ain't my friend and any drama related to them, it's these damn kidney stones. I might just reach in there and rip the whole damn thing out so I can have a day without trying to concentrate with pain.

And plus, I'm running out of herbs.

I heard Dr. Sebi (and his people) will represent at the African-Caribbean Festival Of Life in Chicago July 1-8th. I plan on consulting with the good doctor on my conversion, detox and my future naked... In the forest... Talking to the animals.

Thursday

Busy, busy, busy.

Hell, I just got access to the internet. I'll blog about something tomorrow.

Be easy.

My Work Rant

You know I was going to put it down one day about the
gig, right? Well here it is:

From the moment I got to the section in the building
where I was to work, I knew I was going to have to
watch my step so I wouldn't slip on the banana
peels...

I hate calling names, but there are a few 400 pound
gorillas and a whole bunch of monkey business going on
over here at Big Oil.

Now my approach getting settled into the new gig was
modest and relaxed, all I wanted to do after sitting
through one PowerPoint presentation and film after
another in a classroom setting for a few weeks was to
get in the middle of doing what I was being paid to
do. I didn't know much about the methods taken to make
things work in my department with proprietary software
and procedures but I understood what we do as a
department and why. I just had to get my hands dirty
and use the tools like everyone else. I needed my
hands on experience and I was excited to get my hands
dirty.

Now as most of you know, I am a truck driver. Did my
thing over the road for a minute in my last
incarnation. Our department's responsibility here at
Big Oil is to make sure out customers never run out of
fuel. We are the ones that coordinate the movement of
things from refinement to you pumping it into your
automobile, and that's all you need to know. We are
good at what we do and that's why we're about to shed
#2 status and be big folks on campus.

Our jobs are important. We must work collectively in
order for us to do our thang which means we must work
in close quarters and constantly communicate with our
peers to keep the big wheel a turnin'. In environments
such as this you have to get to know everybody because
we all work to keep that big wheel from squeaking by
adding our own grease. Active participation from
everyone is a must, but what happens when folks get
all exclusive with their shit? How does work get done
when folks get a little too personal with co-workers
and/or knows all the business?

What if you're the new cat and there is one important
greaser that doesn't even care if you got your bucket
of oil?

I am the new guy. There are 2 other new folks and the
other two are natives of the area and have small degrees
of seperation to a few that have already embedded
themselves here at big oil. No relation, but this is a
smaller place and most of these folks worked together
in some form in the past. There are no favors here.
Everyone that is here has earned a spot, but that
ain't my point.

I am the odd man out. I look like a yankee, act like
one and definitely speak like one. The one thing that
I have that others don't quite have is an advanced
education of how things work here due to the fact that
I have driven a few fuel loads in my day, worked in a
distributions depot for damn near a decade and have
dibbled in the hardware/software package we're
migrating to in the future. I got recruited based on
those factors and I ain't mad at that.

Imagine how it feels to have everyone already know
your background before you get a chance to introduce
yourself. Imagine how it feels to have a chosen few
purposely ignore you based on what they think they
know. I haven't endeared myself to anyone here but I
have gotten to know literally a few folks around
here and I was told of the exclusivity and cliques
that exist here at Big Oil. I needed that info.

There are two people in particular that are on my team
that have refused to introduce themselves to me, less
look me in the eye. I have gone above and beyond the
call to speak, acknowledge and even ask for assistance
from these individuals to no avail. I could give less
than a damn personally, but because we are on the same
team (what about work productivity, lost revenue and
overall cohesion?) and I am not yet proficient with
how things go down, the company stands to lose
hundreds of thousands of dollars daily as long as the
clique-ish behavior continues.

If I'm responsible for the transfer of product with
limited training, I am bound to get in a few jams. If
I cannot get the help I need, we lose money ultimately
based on my judgement. I will be forgiven for some
lapses in judgement until I reach a certain threshold,
but what happens after that? One day I'm not going to
be the rookie and it will be on me to determine major
decisions when it comes to a customer, client or employee
in the 4 regions my teammates and I oversee.

That's the thing about this job. Sometimes
you have to make the call. That's how much trust Big
Oil has in it's employees. We train you, help you grow
and then depend on you to continue the trend of
generating revenue by maintaining the high standard
set by those that have proceeded you.

So the day I walk into the bullpen and hear the
cackling of the office hens going on about a
co-worker's private affairs in the most negative
manner ever established in office gossip history and
later that day I see and hear you as you creep around
the corner and whisper to these same hens with ridicule
and negative criticisms about a 2 minute conversation I
had with with a co-worker about a movie trailer as if
my tastes and behavior is unsanitary, how am I supposed
to act?

You would know if you took the time to get to know me.
Even if it was on the surface, at least you would know
how I would respond.

But because you never took the time even in distrust
to get a peek at personality quarks you don't know if
I'm some uncoof negro hellbent on bringing you down
with a gossip campaign of my own.

I could not give a damn and get gangster enough to
have a crackhead or a homeless person assault you in
the parking lots they magically appear in after 6pm.

I could be a war veteran readjusting to society with
this being my first taste of interaction with the
general public. The most constructive criticisms
placed on a frazzled person could be the straw that
mentally breaks the camel's back.

I could just be plain ghetto and pop you in the mouth
repeatedly until the two big security guards come and
haul me off to the underground brig.

I could take it in stride and make a pass at you
thinking it's a cute invitation to break you off sexually
and pass the sordid details on to my lunch buddies.

See, since you never made the effort to even know my
name but knew all about what degrees I have and where
I supposedly came from you really don't know me, and
that's the scary part. I now have you wondering if
your actions will come back and bite you in your ass,
especially after I confronted you, confusing you
because you thought I didn't hear or didn't know you
are a crab.

In a barrel.

If you knew me, you would know and understand that I
was recruited to come here and excel beyond where you
are. That I have already been assigned a corporate
mentor where as in your vested tenure you never
applied for an interdepartmental transfer. That even
though I indicated to my superiors that I may go back
into the trucking industry I was still invited to come
and let Big Oil win me over with great pay, nice
benefits and the opportunity to move up and on due to
my education and background.

If you knew me, you would have know that I have damn
near photographic memory when it comes to code and
software maintenance and that I memorized things so I
wouldn't have to ask you a damn thing and cover my
assets and the teams in the same breath.

If you knew, you would already know that I could quit
today, walk away from this semi-lucrative job and not
get foreclosed on in a matter of weeks. Because I chose
to educate myself I could go elsewhere and be all right
financially. That this was plan C by accident and
plans A and B are on serious standby meaning I have
options which leads me back to you wondering what I
might do.

I think because you and your cohorts are so wrapped up
in that colored shit, you will never rise above where
you are now in your career and as a person, and that I
will never stoop to your level and dignify your
remarks with lewd behavior. The fact that I feel sorry
for your children because they have you as a parent
and that limits them as human beings as you have been
limited, and all that is you will fall and burn while
the rest of the world moves forward not even knowing
your name.

Continue swinging from the trees little monkey while
the rest of us laugh at you as you sling shit and
dance. I'll continue to frown upon me working in a
corporate environment and yearn the time when I was my
own boss, traveling the interstate.

I think I just made a career decision!

Wrong Place, Wrong Time In Speech And Actions

I haven't had the opportunity to blog due to my unrealistic schedule and travel but there have been things on my mind that I wanted to share, so I do this from my desk at work. I need to be learning about what it is that makes my job so important, but when it's just you and a handful on a Sunday, time is all you got.

Something I noticed.

In life, some people regardless who they are or the extent of their nature have no clue on how to accommodate someone in transition without announcing or acknowledging what it is that makes transition uncomfortable or difficult. If it wasn't for some of those announcements most of us wouldn't know that such difficulties exist. There is indeed a struggle in adjusting to new surroundings. Most times it's just a part of progression in digging in.

We try, I believe we do but sometimes the fact that we make a big thing out of a small thing that becomes a big thing is the wrong thing to do. especially when that someone is you, regardless which side you're on. Sometimes just diligently working things into your daily routine or learning the language, or acting more like Romans in Rome without making a Broadway production out of things is what is needed to digest and understand all things new in transition. Slow, easy and silent is the best way sometimes.

Take me for example.

In my coming to Houston to recover physically I've encountered more difficulty in finding ease in the actual act of transition than I have in actually transitioning. I'm not complaining because I have the support and the love I need to get by and beyond. I just noticed that when people's hearts allow them to give themselves, sometimes its followed or proceeded with an announcement when in my personal opinion sometimes that verbal memo should have been kept to themselves.

You don't have to explain to me how difficult things are with adapting to the culture, the climate or the environment and how you will do and how you've done to have helped someone before me. I already know that. Let me take my steps without indicating that I made what could be considered wrong steps in your eyes.

You don't have to go above and beyond the call of duty to accommodate someone that has working hands, feet and a very functional mind. The best thing in allowing someone into your realm when its new to them is letting them experience the experience. Self-discovery is life changing for most, especially when one is allowed to revel in the moment after the newness sinks in.

You damn sure don't have to ostracize someone in order to motivate them to get deeper into the experience. Just because you know about all that is your neck of the woods, that is not going to stop someone from making gentle comparisons to where they're from because maybe that's all they know. Anything else added to someones adjustment makes it extremely damn uncomfortable and adds the permanent stain that will be embedded into memory, that moment being related to an unhappy experience.

Thing is, I've been blessed to travel a lot and see places my mother used to excite me about in her bedtime stories and fairy tales. When I've unboarded a plane or stepped off of a train or somethingortheother, all I had to depend on is my wit, charm and personality if previous study of the lay of the land and my pocketbook didn't suffice.

I had a conversation with my brother this evening and he knew the discomfort in my voice. The convo was all about him and Pops and the Father's Day festivities and the voice mail message I left that made him cry. I didn't mean to, but I logged into my Gmail account and saw someone online in Google Chat who only had memories. Her father passed a few years back and when we used to kick it back in the day I never felt a vibe like I felt the night she told me about her father, her love for him and how much a void there was since he passed away. I have my dad, my stepfather and a new stepfather along with uncles and other family and friends that were more than a rock for me throughout my entire life. I could never imagine a day without them there and as I saw the little green button indicating her online I felt her void again.

We don't speak anymore, but I still love her love for her dad and I said a little prayer. I hope her day went well.

I had to tell my brother how uncomfortable I feel here in Houston and how that feeling I had months ago hasn't gone away. It ain't the place, it's my place in life. I know that each day I spend here feels more and more like that feeling I got from that sister when she shared her feelings about her father. I spent my day at work getting nothing accomplished in my spiritual growth and development. That time would usually be spent with my father and brothers.

I am in the wrong place, and the fact that I had to leave Pops a voicemail message tells me that my timing is off as well.

I am supposed to be closer to those I have been put here to be closer to. I hope in going back to Chicago in a few weeks that I can release what I have held in order to keep my sanity, get some fresh vibes and move forward.

I'm a little miffed at the fact that I recorded two podcasts that I could not load onto Blogger Wednesday and Friday. I took the time and effort to put a couple of pieces together and Blogger just couldn't work with me. I guess the technology was too advanced.

I will not re-post them, I will re-record and try again next week or something.

My schedule is brutal right now. I'm working 2 to 10:30pm and it takes me 2 hours to get to work and 2 getting home which totally takes my spare time away from me. This is why there was only one post this week. I do have a week scheduled in Chicago the first week in July and I will be blogging from the road and taking pics while there, I'm just not sure about next week. I have some vocals to lay down and a few tracks to make, and I'm trying to get that together as well as track laying and vocals to record with DJ MorninMan while in the Chi, so time is tight.

My health is aiight, I'm still passing kidney stones. No worries bout' that, this herbal stack I'm taking is working very well so pain and discomfort is low.

I gotta get back to work, y'all. Later.

Feeling Myself, And Not In That Manner...

When was the last time you really 'felt' yourself?


What I'm asking is, when was the last time you really felt good about everything? Like all your circuitry was functioning at optimal capacity and there wasn't some sort of spiritual breach or mental sag in your daily ya dig, you know... When was the last time you felt like you were on point?

Hell, it's been so long for me that I really cannot remember.

Now that's not a bad thing, but I look at what I have left and see that although my window is shorter in doing things that are impactful, the appreciation of accomplishment is that much more pertinent to my overall basket of happy. What I'm saying is that it would be a large favor from the universe to have me live more years than I have already, so time for me is short if I wanna get some real stuff (well, to me at least) done.

Now I'm satisfied with what has happened so far, and my laundry list of complaints are probably like everyone else's, but I know that I have more inside that I can pass on and I know that there is more for me out there somewhere all wrapped in a bow, just waiting for me to stumble across and claim.

I don't know if that is a person, a place or a thing.

Damn... I just realized that I just described a noun when I typed it. I hope it's that simple.

Oh! I remember the last time in my life where everything clicked and seemed perfect:

It was a few days before Thanksgiving back in 1991. I was in the Army living stationed at Camp Casey which is in Tondecheon, South Korea. I had just gotten a promotion and I was living in a double room in the barracks with no roommate. I was an Intelligence Analyst working in battalion headquarters processing security clearances and dispensing communications security to the soldiers in the Signal Unit I served in. It was a cushy job. I had my own office and workspace and was left alone with my paperwork and radio.

Let me set things up...

I was in impeccable shape mentally, especially physically. I'm talking bodyfat at 12 percent and hitting my two mile run right at 14 minutes. I was putting down 3 to 5 books a week and reading damn near every magazine at the PX because I was so homesick. Das Efx was the rap kids on the block and Gerald LeVert was telling us about his private line. On weekends I would go down to Seoul and get on the trains and busses. I would just lose myself in Korean culture and get lost in their life and customs.

I was writing my whole family and calling my girl weekly, who was doing her thing at Bradley U. I paid every bill on time and had no outstanding debt. I was buying 20 to 30 records a week and practicing my cuts on these cheap-ass belt driven turntables, practicing my on-air radio skills because I knew I was going to be a radio and club DJ when I got out. I had also took enough classes and Central Texas College (conveniently located on EVERY Army post) to have earned my associates and enough Army correspondence courses to gain another promotion in 90 days after getting my most recent one. I was a machine, y'all.

Sensible diet, 5 miles every morning, chill-ass job, hobbies, the excitement of living overseas, active social life with the cats in the barracks and this cute-ass Korean chick named Song and her American infatuated sorors. Something about them fit ass military brothers... My Jeans West slacks fresh from the US were hot to def and I was rocking them thick soled shoes with the metal on the toes, accesorizing it with the floral print shirts that was rocking 2 for $22 and the fold over belts with the metal tips that made the early 90's hot. I could've been a dancer on Nia Peeples' Party Machine.

I was that fly.

I was on top of my game, and things couldn't be better. I had the support of my family, being in the military was a good thing and I had healthy, stress-free relationships with everyone I called friend. Even my adversaries were in the pocket. I knew where they stood and they I. I believe athletes call it being in the zone. You know, when the ball looks to be the size of a head of lettuce for a baseball player , or the hoop seems eight feet wide to a basketball player. Nothing was out of place, all of my parts worked perfectly and nothing could possibly go wrong for my young, gifted, upwardly mobile military ass twenty-six thousand miles from home.

Until I got a phone call.

Like I said, it was right before turkey day and I was ready to celebrate with the cats in my unit seeing as I couldn't get home to do it. I remember it was cool out side and not yet winter. No coats or anything, the temperature was in the 60's, perfect for heading into December. I had a great day at the office and worked out that evening. I bought a mink blanket at this market not far from the base and I had taken a liking to sleeping under it with my windows open. My ritual at that time was to just chill and think out my day in the dark right before sleeping and I did that usually listening to Anita or Sade. This night was Anita. I was in my bed, lights out under the blanket feeling this beautiful breeze on my face when the phone jolted me out of my meditative state. It was about 12:30 and I was reviewing my state of being. I was at my calmest and I was thinking at that moment how blessed I am to be in this place at this time. It was no deal to get up and answer the phone, everything was perfect and although no one ever called me after 11pm or so, this had to be something extra special waiting for me on the other end of that line. What more could the universe give me? I was already at my happiest. Any more blessings would be blessed overkill.

So I hear the voice of my first seargent (a Boricua cat, instant bond... tanto como mi parte posteriora de la familia casera) and he had tears in his cracked voice. My grandfather had died. He spoke with my mother and it was already arranged for me to hit a 6am plane to Chicago to make it there. From what he didn't tell me I knew that things were falling apart in Chicago. Although the military doesn't let folks go home for funerals of family outside of immediate, my grand parents were my legal guardians because moms was a career student when I was a kid. She had given birth to three before she was able to vote, and the success of my entire family depended on her getting an education because she was the oldest. Since my granny grands were legally my parents, I got a chance to go home.

It wasn't my grandfather's death that changed my life. It wasn't the fact that my grandmother, aunt and I got into horrible car accident the night of the funeral. It wasn't the fact that now my grandfather's wife, who was now in the hospital with a broken neck wearing a halo would die six months to the day (she healed from the neck injury, but died of a broken heart. Forty years is a long time) and that visit was the last time I would see her alive, It was the two visits I made from Korea, one to bury Pops, the other to bury Mamma that actually changed up my flow.

It was the energy of the survivors that changed me.

Although I went back to Korea to finish my tour, I went back the first time a little twisted from the experience, the second even more effed up and it wasn't because my beloved passed away. I learned that I became a product of my environment. The energy in Chicago hasn't been right since that time, and I exited the military at the end of 1992 and came back to even more dysfunction. I sopped it up like a sponge and applied all of the effed up methods, ways and means of my family and others. I didn't realize I was replaying all of the alcoholism, verbal abuse and uncaring ways I learned from my environment until I had broken up with my third long-time girlfriend broke, unmarried and childless with nothing tangible spiritually to take away from any of my situations. My people aren't bad people, some of em' just aren't good examples to follow. Some other's blueprints are askew for you, ya' dig?

When I left home for the military, I had to figure things out for myself and although my methods were questionable, they were effective for me. I gave all of that up when I got out because I thought I should learn and emulate from folks that had been in the game longer than I. I shoulda' stuck to my own game plan.

And you wonder why I'm living in Houston right now?

I'm trying to feel myself again. Remember what that felt like?

On the show next week:

Blackfist sits with Hassan and breaks down what it is...


Stay tuned

that's not what I meant...

I really didn't want to just put myself out there like I did Monday, but I realize that in order to answer the larger questions someone has to ask them.

So I take back my statement from yesterday.

To answer a question posed from Monday's post:
Question - How does one detach emotions from sex?
Answer - Exposure to those that have perfected it will give you all the detail in the world.

There was a lot of womanizing and belittling of expressions of love in my upbringing. From Father figures to Father Whatshisname from the parochial school my entire family attended, pimp-ism in the form of 'we don't love them hoes' was the standard and the goal for most men. I am a product of that. Partner that with the blackploitation joints, the dis-assemblage of my community and the infestation of drug culture from fill in the blank, I picked this method of life up and ran with it until I hit what I like to call my heathen wall.

I want to be free to move about and do what a free man does, and that is love and be loved. I cannot die without having that.

and property
and revisiting Africa
and having the possibility of making babies... I said I want the possibility.

My cold shoulder has been turned from unlove for a long time. I just wish it would reciprocate.

I'm sorry I ever put myself out there like that yesterday.

Wearing It Out

I've always been able to extend thangs before I had my happy moment.






You know what the hell I mean.





I've always been able to perform and last, you know... Put a good show on and hold out and extend that thang before reaching the climactic ending of yet another sexual episode. It was almost like there was an old school media announcer narrating my escapades like I was shagging on 'Texaco's Majestic Master Of Mystery Radio Hour'.

"How long will Hassan last this time?"
"Is this his greatest fourth quarter performance yet?"
"Will she cry mercy again under his heavy humping?"
"Is he impressed - will there be a return date?"
"Did she reach climax, or was he just out to get one for himself?"

"We'll know the answer to these questions and many more at the end of another episode of...

"The Phantom Climax!!!" (cue dramatic/cheesy radio thrill music)


I used to be able to separate sex from making love. It was no thing to have sex and put on an academy-award winning, in the bed, floor shaking performance for a sister. Problem is, now in my late 30's I can't seem to find the motivation to let one go all willy nilly without great reason. I have lost the ability to separate my emotions from sex because I believe in soul ties.

I think it has something to do with me getting grown, but in 2007 it's all about actually feeling this incredible bond and having mutual respect for a sister so deep seeded that if I ain't feeling the universe... It ain't working.

You got that
That it's too good I don't deserve it kinda love
That girl I'm calling in sick to work kinda love
That sweaty funky dope kinda love
That's what you got
That call it a night kinda love

That girl slow down I'm about to bust kinda love
That don't stop girl, get it get it kinda love
That back it up, break it off head boards knockin' kinda love
That's what you got
Call it a night kinda love

Wear It Out - Gerald Levert

Remember that shit?

I feel kind of guilty because I think that over time it's led up to this. I've been so wrapped up into getting my thang together on so many levels that it's like any lust or desire I have, even a little it is suppressed or totally has dried up to the point where I don't want to do it at all. It's like I'm hating sex based on all of the bad, meaningless sex I've had over the years. I think my shit is broke y'all. I would love to get back to enjoying the act, but spiritually I just don't feel like it's my time to release that monster onto the world.

I don't understand.

I really want to, but when I just can't right now. How in the hell is she supposed to understand that shit because I can't. I've never been at a point where I don't wanna do it but I seem to have reached that point right now, and it flusters me badly.

And yes, thinking about my performance makes me (and every other brother) so aware of their performance to a fault.

So I'm stuck.

I'm confused.

And I want to let one go so badly right now. But whatever it is...

Whatever it is...
Whatever it is...

It won't let me.

What in the hell is wrong with me? This isn't normal behavior, is it?

Daydreaming About Home

I really haven't had the time I wanted to blog or get into reading others due to the time I dedicate to big oil these days. I've been coming home and sleeping immediately after leaving work, and now I have a schedule that has me leaving the house at 4:15 in the AM...

Just takes a little time getting used to, that's all.

I'm feeling better and am off the anti-biotic. Thanks for the well wishes. I hope I never go thru anything like that again. Ailing innards takes pain tolerance (for me) to a whole other level.

I just realized that I haven't had a daydream or REM induced dream since late last summer. Probably has something to do with my lack of effective writing. I've been dragging my feet with the poetry, so things like a release date for my works is damn near non-existent.

I got my plans to get back to Chicago on lock... A whole week back in the Chi. Home! Damn, so much to do and so many people to get at in seven whole days. I don't want to leave already. I'll have to find a way to convince myself to get on the plane back to Houston. I'm a big-city kid and I needs my concrete, steel and glass. And my people. And the things that make Chicago my home. I'm sure there are things that make your spot... Yours. I miss my family gathering every weekend

And my White Sox
Griot Baba Biko
And Washington Park
And the Negro League Cafe
And the El
Grant Park
The Swift Mansion
Navy Pier
Harold's Chicken
Al's basement
and mild sauce
The Tribesmen
and the lakefront
and stepper's sets
Kingston Mines
House Music
Hyde Park
Still Black See

I miss my city badly. I guess you can't shake where home is, and why should you?

I took that photo back in the summer of 05 when things were nice and calm in my life. Since I pulled a pic, might as well repost a piece I enjoyed writing and reciting. Here goes nothing:

Motion, Time

We move within silence not
knowing if that motion is directed
towards completion.

To me silence replaces distance,
so I make noise as to keep unspoken
feelings audible.

If I can hear, then I know that you're close.
It comforts me knowing that your emotions
are within arms reach.

I hope that actions mean completion
of us. I pray that distance only means
that we'll be together in the meantime
and that we can grow out of individual
space.

In time.

The clicking that interrupts white noise is
me eagerly responding to you. At times I'm
afraid to pick up the phone, during others I
become a coward, withdraw and anticipate
you typing.

I get short of breath.

Silence broken ushers curious gladness.
Reconnected via wrists and fingertips helps
smooth quiet loneliness out. It replaces
conversation, but only in a season.

I write in silence only to break it with a
yearning thought. I read aloud to exercise
the power of the written word into spoken.

Words have the power of life and death.

I view pictures with hopes of recall
enhancing our face to face. Every
now and then I check my pocket
to make sure I have enough to
bring that thing together.

I can't swallow. That thought so tense.

That thing is time. Things happen in
due time. Timing is everything, it's special
that I might want to dedicate said
time for a long time.

We move within silence not knowing if that
motion is directed towards completion,
but we want it to.

We want it to, right?

2005 Hassan Ntimbanjayo, ya dig?

Yeah, you inspired me to write that and it's still effective ma'am

Sometimes I gotta inspire myself. This moment for me is critical in receiving the proper energies I need in moving forward and making things work. For my work, my job and my state of being. I need to motivate myself to maintain focus. I really want to go home and just be, but I cannot right now, so I'll just live in the moment and enjoy what's in front of me because that's good too.

Get your weekend popping and be well.