Disappointed

Just when I thought that I would just stop doing my thing and enjoy life from the front porch...


People start to listen and respond. Years later.


I don't know if you've noticed, but I really took the personality away from this joint. I stopped getting personal with my posts with the exception of speaking about my general health and I hear all of my virtual play-cousins (I invented that) when they give me gems for optimal living. I have taken your advice and am doing all that I can to get back to regular.

Someone close to me pretty much told me to just relax because I seemed to be stressing too much, that maybe the move to Houston and my current situation versus what I want to do is possibly raising my blood pressure. Yes my pressure is somewhere in stage II hypertensionville but it ain't that. Someone stated that I am angry all the damn time, but one thing... I never get mad. I may show displeasure with things through my outwardly appearance, but it ain't that I'm angry.

It's because I am in a constant state of disappointment.

I see myself and I see the education, the talent and the options and I am disappointed that I am where I am right now. I will do more to get to where I feel I need to be, and that means being more outspoken for my family, cause y'all are all I got.

I see my peers in the Hip Hop generation and I am disappointed in how we are handling ourselves at this moment. There is no problem with Hip Hop or specifically rap music. I'm disappointed in how the entire Hip Hop nation is once again grouped into whatever is killing the nation at this moment. The overall ignorance that we are showing about a genre of music that we created disappoints me to the core. Example:

Movies: Filmed entertainment, full of stereotypes and degrading images of people, places and things. Also full of fun, comedy and heartwarming moments that we grow to love in the billions of dollars- The Fly, The Matrix, Birth Of A Nation, The Terminator, Do The Right Thing, Van Wilder, Austin Powers, Night At The Museum, Blood Diamond, Major League, Monkey Hustle, Shaft, I, Robot, Pretty Woman, Cotton Comes To Harlem, The Ten Commandments, Enter The Dragon, Apocalypse Now, Spider-Man, Earth Girls Are Easy, Love And Basketball, Alien, Close Encounters of a Third Kind, Star Wars, Brokeback Mountain, Shaft, Chocolate', Mulan Rouge, Happy Feet, Honey, I Shrunk The Kids... Did I jump around enough for you?

Television: Shorter versions of movies, same stereotypes and degrading images as well as heartwarming fun and comedy made for shorter attention spans and bundled in series (for the most part) for those that want to follow a character or set of characters in various plots and subplots. Also where sporting events and made for TV events (award shows and such) take place for the world to view- The Sopranos, General Hospital, Wide World of Sports, Grey's Anatomy, 24, Weeds, My Name Is Earl, Survivor, The King of Queens, Girlfriends, Sleeper Cell, Lost, Heroes, How I Met Your Mother, Chappelle's Show, South Park, Aqua Teenage Hunger Force, Reno 911, Flavor of Love: Charm School, The Springer Hustle, Arena Football, One Tree Hill, The Game, Law And Order, Monk, WWE Raw and Smackdown, Tuesday Night Fights, Arena Football, The Office, 30 Rock, Everybody Hates Chris, Anderson Cooper 360, The View, Friday Night Lights, The Young and the Restless and so on.

Music: Unadulterated, uncensored form of singing, instrumental isms and spoken art in which artists (or those that try to be) attempt to wax poetic on whatever they see fit. Full of stereotypes and violence as well as heartfelt ballads of love and admiration. Long and short forms of musical expression are marketed to any audience that cares to listen- grunge, speed metal, hard rock, zydeco, hardcore rap, smooth jazz, gospel, blues, jazz, gangster rap, thrash metal, guitar ballads, folk, country and western, zydeco, New Orleans jazz, chamber music, orchestra composed, madrigals, chant, Christian rap, Harlem jazz, industrial, power ballads, new wave, punk, ska, world music, soca, meringue, dance hall, roots reggae, Kentucky bluegrass, old school rap, fusion, funk, rhythm and blues, doo wop, 60's soul, St Louis blues, Chicago blues, rockabilly, new school rap, house music, dance pop, adult contemporary, 50's rock and roll, underground rap, jazz fusion, neo soul, urban contemporary, old, guitar driven rock, hair metal, spoken word, scat, top 40 pop.

I'm disappointed that folks don't know the difference but spend money like we do. Or do we and just refuse to acknowledge that there are categories of entertainment? Genres if you will. What makes rap music any different than other forms of entertainment? Are we going after the porn industry? Think not. If we really want to censor our artists (can't call em' so-called, cause' people even buy stuff from the bullshit ones - that means artist support) under the 'urban music' banner, that means both rappers and R&B artists would get the hook. And so should rock artists, grunge cats, metal dudes, jazz artists, even Christian artists.

There has to be a Muslim or Jew that just can't stand DC Talk... Right?

Hip Hop is in the mainstream right now and it faces the same scrutiny as Rock and Roll, Jazz and Rhythm And Blues (originating from gospel music) before it, so let the chips fall where it may. I as a child of, current supporter of and peer of Hip Hop refuse to be painted with a broad brush stroke and be labeled as poison when it comes to influencing our youth. Whether white kid or brown, Hip Hop culture is a multi-trillion dollar, infrastructure building positive influence on society as a whole. To let a rapper (Rap music, once again is a sub-culture of Hip Hop) or twelve's lyrical content be the basis of unwarranted finger-pointing, blame laying and the reasoning behind the downfall of America's so-called utopia and also the cause of racist rhetoric is downright insulting. And I bet you Bob Dylan's acoustic guitar that I'm not the only member of this generation ready to fight for the respect and the fair market share we in the Hip Hop community deserve.

This ain't over. It's just getting started. I'm just disappointed that my voice wasn't heard a few years ago when I was saying the same damn thing I'm saying now. Check the archives. As a matter of fact, check out this very same fight when you google up what was going on in the 80's... Or What C. Delores Tucker was doing in the 90's... Or the self check we were getting into via allhiphop.com, okayplayer.com and such have been doing in the 2000's.

I know who I am, and I'm a little disappointed in myself to let this get this far.
Some of you guys have me a little disappointed in as well.

An Open Letter To Oprah Winfrey

by Saul Williams

Dear Ms. Winfrey,

It is with the greatest respect and adoration of your loving spirit that I write you. As a young child, I would sit beside my mother everyday and watch your program. As a young adult, with children of my own, I spend much less time in front of the television, but I am ever thankful for the positive effect that you continue to have on our nation, history and culture. The example that you have set as someone unafraid to answer their calling, even when the reality of that calling insists that one self-actualize beyond the point of any given example, is humbling, and serves as the cornerstone of the greatest faith. You, love, are a pioneer.

I am a poet.

Growing up in Newburgh, NY, with a father as a minister and a mother as a school teacher, at a time when we fought for our heroes to be nationally recognized, I certainly was exposed to the great names and voices of our past. I took great pride in competing in my churches Black History Quiz Bowl and the countless events my mother organized in hopes of fostering a generation of youth well versed in the greatness as well as the horrors of our history. Yet, even in a household where I had the privilege of personally interacting with some of the most outspoken and courageous luminaries of our times, I must admit that the voices that resonated the most within me and made me want to speak up were those of my peers, and these peers were emcees. Rappers.
.
Yes, Ms. Winfrey, I am what my generation would call "a Hip Hop head." Hip Hop has served as one of the greatest aspects of my self-definition. Lucky for me, I grew up in the 80's when groups like Public Enemy, Rakim, The jungle Brothers, Queen Latifah, and many more realized the power of their voices within the artform and chose to create music aimed at the upliftment of our generation.

As a student at Morehouse College where I studied Philosophy and Drama I was forced to venture across the street to Spelman College for all of my Drama classes, since Morehouse had no theater department of its own. I had few complaints. The performing arts scholarship awarded me by Michael Jackson had promised me a practically free ride to my dream school, which now had opened the doors to another campus that could make even the most focused of young boys dreamy, Spelman. One of my first theater professors, Pearle Cleage, shook me from my adolescent dream state. It was the year that Dr. Dre's "The Chronic" was released and our introduction to Snoop Dogg as he sang catchy hooks like "Bitches ain't shit but hoes and tricks..." Although, it was a playwriting class, what seemed to take precedence was Ms. Cleages political ideology, which had recently been pressed and bound in her 1st book, Mad at Miles. As, you know, in this book she spoke of how she could not listen to the music of Miles Davis and his muted trumpet without hearing the muted screams of the women that he was outspoken about "man-handling". It was my first exposure to the idea of an artist being held accountable for their actions outside of their art. It was the first time I had ever heard the word, "misogyny". And as Ms. Cleage would walk into the classroom fuming over the women she would pass on campus, blasting those Snoop lyrics from their cars and jeeps, we, her students, would be privy to many freestyle rants and raves on the dangers of nodding our heads to a music that could serve as our own demise.

Her words, coupled with the words of the young women I found myself interacting with forever changed how I listened to Hip Hop and quite frankly ruined what would have been a number of good songs for me. I had now been burdened with a level of awareness that made it impossible for me to enjoy what the growing masses were ushering into the mainstream. I was now becoming what many Hip Hop heads would call "a Backpacker", a person who chooses to associate themselves with the more "conscious" or politically astute artists of the Hip Hop community. What we termed as "conscious" Hip Hop became our preference for dance and booming systems. Groups like X-Clan, A Tribe Called Quest, Brand Nubian, Arrested Development, Gangstarr and others became the prevailing music of our circle. We also enjoyed the more playful Hip Hop of De La Soul, Heiroglyphics, Das FX, Organized Konfusion. Digable Planets, The Fugees, and more. We had more than enough positivity to fixate on. Hip Hop was diverse.

I had not yet begun writing poetry. Most of my friends hardly knew that I had been an emcee in high school. I no longer cared to identify myself as an emcee and my love of oratory seemed misplaced at Morehouse where most orators were actually preachers in training, speaking with the Southern drawl of Dr. King although they were 19 and from the North. I spent my time doing countless plays and school performances. I was in line to become what I thought would be the next Robeson, Sidney, Ossie, Denzel, Snipes... It wasn't until I was in graduate school for acting at NYU that I was invited to a poetry reading in Manhattan where I heard Asha Bandele, Sapphire, Carl Hancock Rux, Reggie Gaines, Jessica Care Moore, and many others read poems that sometimes felt like monologues that my newly acquired journal started taking the form of a young poets'. Yet, I still noticed that I was a bit different from these poets who listed names like: Audrey Lourde, June Jordan, Sekou Sundiata etc, when asked why they began to write poetry. I knew that I had been inspired to write because of emcees like Rakim, Chuck D, LL, Run DMC... Hip Hop had informed my love of poetry as much or even more than my theater background which had exposed me to Shakespeare, Baraka, Fugard, Genet, Hansberry and countless others. In those days, just a mere decade ago, I started writing to fill the void between what I was hearing and what I wished I was hearing. It was not enough for me to critique the voices I heard blasting through the walls of my Brooklyn brownstone. I needed to create examples of where Hip Hop, particularly its lyricism, could go. I ventured to poetry readings with my friends and neighbors, Dante Smith (now Mos Def), Talib Kwele, Erycka Badu, Jessica Care Moore, Mums the Schemer, Beau Sia, Suheir Hammad...all poets that frequented the open mics and poetry slams that we commonly saw as "the other direction" when Hip hop reached that fork in the road as you discussed on your show this past week. On your show you asked the question, "Are all rappers poets?" Nice. I wanted to take the opportunity to answer this question for you.

The genius, as far as the marketability, of Hip Hop is in its competitiveness. Its roots are as much in the dignified aspects of our oral tradition as it is in the tradition of "the dozens" or "signifying". In Hip Hop, every emcee is automatically pitted against every other emcee, sort of like characters with super powers in comic books. No one wants to listen to a rapper unless they claim to be the best or the greatest. This sort of braggadocio leads to all sorts of tirades, showdowns, battles, and sometimes even deaths. In all cases, confidence is the ruling card. Because of the competitive stance that all emcees are prone to take, they, like soldiers begin to believe that they can show no sign of vulnerability. Thus, the most popular emcees of our age are often those that claim to be heartless or show no feelings or signs of emotion. The poet, on the other hand, is the one who realizes that their vulnerability is their power. Like you, unafraid to shed tears on countless shows, the poet finds strength in exposing their humanity, their vulnerability, thus making it possible for us to find connection and strength through their work. Many emcees have been poets. But, no, Ms. Winfrey, not all emcees are poets. Many choose gangsterism and business over the emotional terrain through which true artistry will lead. But they are not to blame. I would now like to address your question of leadership.

You may recall that in immediate response to the attacks of September 11th, our president took the national stage to say to the American public and the world that we would "...show no sign of vulnerability". Here is the same word that distinguishes poets from rappers, but in its history, more accurately, women from men. To make such a statement is to align oneself with the ideology that instills in us a sense of vulnerability meaning "weakness". And these meanings all take their place under the heading of what we consciously or subconsciously characterize as traits of the feminine. The weapon of mass destruction is the one that asserts that a holy trinity would be a father, a male child, and a ghost when common sense tells us that the holiest of trinities would be a mother, a father, and a child: Family. The vulnerability that we see as weakness is the saving grace of the drunken driver who because of their drunken/vulnerable state survives the fatal accident that kills the passengers in the approaching vehicle who tighten their grip and show no physical vulnerability in the face of their fear. Vulnerability is also the saving grace of the skate boarder who attempts a trick and remembers to stay loose and not tense during their fall. Likewise, vulnerability has been the saving grace of the African American struggle as we have been whipped, jailed, spat upon, called names, and killed, yet continue to strive forward mostly non-violently towards our highest goals. But today we are at a crossroads, because the institutions that have sold us the crosses we wear around our necks are the most overt in the denigration of women and thus humanity. That is why I write you today, Ms. Winfrey. We cannot address the root of what plagues Hip Hop without addressing the root of what plagues today's society and the world.

You see, Ms. Winfrey, at it's worse; Hip Hop is simply a reflection of the society that birthed it. Our love affair with gangsterism and the denigration of women is not rooted in Hip Hop; rather it is rooted in the very core of our personal faith and religions. The gangsters that rule Hip Hop are the same gangsters that rule our nation. 50 Cent and George Bush have the same birthday (July 6th). For a Hip Hop artist to say "I do what I wanna do/Don't care if I get caught/The DA could play this mothaf@kin tape in court/I'll kill you/ I ain't playin'" epitomizes the confidence and braggadocio we expect an admire from a rapper who claims to represent the lowest denominator. When a world leader with the spirit of a cowboy (the true original gangster of the West: raping, stealing land, and pillaging, as we clapped and cheered.) takes the position of doing what he wants to do, regardless of whether the UN or American public would take him to court, then we have witnessed true gangsterism and violent negligence. Yet, there is nothing more negligent than attempting to address a problem one finds on a branch by censoring the leaves.

Name calling, racist generalizations, sexist perceptions, are all rooted in something much deeper than an uncensored music. Like the rest of the world, I watched footage on AOL of you dancing mindlessly to 50 Cent on your fiftieth birthday as he proclaimed, "I got the ex/if you're into taking drugs/ I'm into having sex/ I ain't into making love" and you looked like you were having a great time. No judgment. I like that song too. Just as I do, James Brown's Sex Machine or Grand Master Flashes "White Lines". Sex, drugs, and rock and roll is how the story goes. Censorship will never solve our problems. It will only foster the sub-cultures of the underground, which inevitably inhabit the mainstream. There is nothing more mainstream than the denigration of women as projected through religious doctrine. Please understand, I am by no means opposing the teachings of Jesus, by example (he wasn't Christian), but rather the men that have used his teachings to control and manipulate the masses. Hip Hop, like Rock and Roll, like the media, and the government, all reflect an idea of power that labels vulnerability as weakness. I can only imagine the non-emotive hardness that you have had to show in order to secure your empire from the grips of those that once stood in your way: the old guard. You reflect our changing times. As time progresses we sometimes outgrow what may have served us along the way. This time, what we have outgrown, is not hip hop, rather it is the festering remnants of a God depicted as an angry and jealous male, by men who were angry and jealous over the minute role that they played in the everyday story of creation. I am sure that you have covered ideas such as these on your show, but we must make a connection before our disconnect proves fatal.

We are a nation at war. What we fail to see is that we are fighting ourselves. There is no true hatred of women in Hip Hop. At the root of our nature we inherently worship the feminine. Our overall attention to the nurturing guidance of our mothers and grandmothers as well as our ideas of what is sexy and beautiful all support this. But when the idea of the feminine is taken out of the idea of what is divine or sacred then that worship becomes objectification. When our governed morality asserts that a woman is either a virgin or a whore, then our understanding of sexuality becomes warped. Note the dangling platinum crosses over the bare asses being smacked in the videos. The emcees of my generation are the ministers of my father's generation. They too had a warped perspective of the feminine. Censoring songs, sermons, or the tirades of radio personalities will change nothing except the format of our discussion. If we are to sincerely address the change we are praying for then we must first address to whom we are praying.

Thank you, Ms. Winfrey, for your forum, your heart, and your vision. May you find the strength and support to bring about the changes you wish to see in ways that do more than perpetuate the myth of enmity.

In loving kindness,

Saul Williams

Please Stand By

I damn near deleted my blog today and didn't think anything of it. So now I'm contemplating just doing the blog reading and commenting thing on other people's joints and not contributing to the brown blogosphere like a lot of people do. I'm learning that you can talk til' you're blue in the face but folks will only choose to hear you instead of listening.

Try typing that shit. See how difficult it gets?

If I choose not to speak, then I get comments asking me to stick around or stay (like Frank's comment in this very post. I guess he stopped by during my recovery of the post/blog), so I ask you is it's even worth it to spend time doing this?

I'm starting to think not.

I thank all of those that take time out of their valuable schedule to come and check me out, that is major and I really appreciate that. That's real. I do take the time to get on my blogroll and read you guys' views and opinions on life and all things in general. I love the diverse reasonings, rants and raves. It makes me feel like I'm not the only one out there trying to find the Qwan, but it's tiresome in some aspects cause the Qwan ain't laying in the middle of the street waiting to be picked up and dusted off.

So until suitable programming can be found on this channel I ask you to stand by. I'm still building brownbloggers.org and moderating a few forums over there before I hand it over. And I'll still visit all my neighbor friends, so don't trip.

Hip Hop Is Alive & Well And At A Venue Near You!

I never lost faith in my people, our sense of who we are and of course, hip hop. I still love it to the point where I never married or gave half on a baby. I thought I'd share a little Lord Quas (Quasimoto) and a few pics I snapped last night/this morning:


It's called 'Rappcats Pt 3'. I know you dug that. I wish it were longer though. I was feeling good about myself and and my love for the game, so I got out the house and did what any right-minded, brown blogging, socio-political ranting and raving hip hop head from the hood would do when real hip hop needs celebration. I got front row with De La Soul. For free.

Thanks A hot ass DJ (DJ Hier from Los Angeles) and a hot to def band backing the Long Island trio (The Rhythm and Roots All-Stars) rocked Houston for a little over three hours. Other than my aching knees from all the dancing, the hoarse voice from all the yelling and song singing and the ringing sensation in my ears, there were wishes of a never ending, peace loving night but alas, folks got things to do in the morning...

ON TO THE PHOTOS DAMMIT!!!

De La Soul @ Warehouse Live April 17/18, 2007

Pos got up close and personal a few times

This crowd was hype! And yes, it was a sea of hip hoppers, peaceful and stuffed full of memories

Maseo came from behind the tables and rocked it

The presentation was tight and the flow was non-stop

Dave kept giving us cues to chime in if we knew it... And we did, making his job easy

Pos was amazing with his delivery... One of the best emcees to hold a mic

There was the usual 'throwing our hands in the air'. We complied and gave mad energy

All in all, we had a ball and the funny thing is... Even with Willie D of the Geto Boys opening up for De La doing some of his greatest works, never was there a negative moment or violent episode. All I've heard in the past few weeks since the Imus thing is how destructive a force Hip Hop is. Although we all know how beautiful a thing this art form and subcultures are, some will try to place blame on anything to keep the status quo a few degrees below.

I dug this up and re-posted to prove what the pictures said if you didn't get it:

"Yet Imus and hip-hop really don't have much in common. Imus was host of a radio show that focused on the real news of the day, while hip-hop is a fictionalized form of cultural expression. Imus is real, featuring real guests and humor based on real topics. However loudly hip-hop might claim to be real, it is not real; it is a form of representation. This is why so few rappers use the names on their birth certificates when performing. Rappers are in essence characters performing a fictional life. Though the culture is rooted in the notion and style of authenticity, it is decidedly fictional. If not, the cops could arrest every rapper who talks about selling drugs or killing someone in his or her lyrics. So we should be judging hip-hop the same way we judge a novel, a movie, or a television show, and to do so means we have to afford hip-hop the same latitude we afford any other form of artistic expression."


Dr. Todd Boyd, a columnist for ESPN's Page 2, is an author, media commentator and a professor of critical studies at the USC School of Cinematic Arts. His next book "The Notorious Ph.D.'s Guide to the Super Fly '70s" will be published in June.


Nuff Said... It's 3:30 and my ears are still ringing...

Get The Hell Out Of Here With That Nonsense!

Don't ever let em' take you off your square. That's what's up right now, the okee doke is being ran on your ass.

I am the living embodiment of Hip Hop and the terms, phrases, and narrative descriptive used in modern day were not invented in the last thirty five years so act like you know.

Don't act like there wasn't black folk on the defensive because an R&B or rap cat was on the offensive back in the day. We've always made strides to police self, we are not defenseless! C. Delores Tucker is rolling over in her grave over this ish.

Bandwagon jumping, house negroes... You just got your ghetto pass revoked. You know regulation and revolution starts at home. You've had your chance but were too busy getting your escalade detailed. Overtime called that ass in, huh?

How dare you say that Hip Hop is the major influence in what's going down right now. Oh, all of a sudden Music, Turntablism, Graffiti, and Breaking is soooooo destructive. How dare you comapre sexist, racist slander against my beloved to what some kid from the hood penned as his or her own truth! It may not be politiaclly correct, but just as I ask for us to divest from those that damage us in the ENTERTAINMENT industry, think about the divestment made after the close of the slave trade. Think of the lack of funding the school system and the systematic training of self hatred placed in the hood... You get a lot of BITCHES, NIGGAS, HOES AND MUTHAFUCKAS. You get what you pay for.

Now imagine all the folks that rose up from that and graduated high school. College. Grad school. Got their doctorate or PhD. Imagine a bunch of working class, church going, mosque attending, temple filling, tax paying, no jail record having, child raising, PTA meeting brown skinned people that make up 12% of the populous here and have over 900 billion to spend and have the power to make change in Washington DC... So now we're all bitches and hoes? Now because that's 'the primary way of communication' between us makes us all targets for reprogramming?

My momma never purchased a rap album in her life. My little brother has three children and doesn't buy that garbge. What kind of influence do they have on society?

What percentage of Hip Hop Music (it's called Rap Music) is actually vulgar? What ratio of folk in or outside of the hood actually buy these sexually and/or violent themed products? What do they look like? Where do they live? What's the demographic again?



You act like Planet Asia, Bahamadia, Tribe, PE, Lauryn, Del, Black Milk, Heiro, Common, Jurassic 5, Guru, Lupe Fiasco, Madlib, Rakim, Mr. Lif, Talib Kweli, Aseop Rock, dead prez, Little Brother, KJ 52, Blackalicious, Gospel Gangstaz, Brand Nubian, K-Os, Kardinal Offishall, The Coup, I Self Devine, The Roots, Saul Williams, Pharoahe Monch, Madlib, Freedom Of Soul, Baatin, KRS One, De La Soul, Dialated Peoples, Nas, Supernatural, Strange Fruit, The Spooks, Underground Movement, The Cross Movement, Slum Village, Jeru, Arrested Development, Outkast, P.I.D., Goodie Mob, Murs, Nappy Roots, Mos Def, Immortal Technique, Afu Ra, Werewolf, Last Poets, Jessica Care Moore, Rage Against The Machine, Spearhead, Poor Righteous Teachers, Sage Francis, Mr Del and countless others do not exist.

Keep letting the large, faceless corporations tell you what to do. The same conglomerates that own CNN, Fox and MSNBC and the same producers of unnecessary product that's peddled to you fund these bullshit artists and the negative images that's the focus right now. Don't stop at firing a morning drive DJ, cut the head off if you dare.

What good parent does not know what their child is listening to? What about other forms of entertainment have the same vulgar themes and aren't targeted? Movies? Video games? Television?

Uh huh, what I thought.

I ain't defending Tipper Gore, but wasn't she a catalyst for change to add labels to recordings that have explicit language?

Any why were those Richard Pryor and Redd Foxx records hidden back in the day?

What ever happen to home training? Restrictions? Ass whoopings and such? Not that you gotta beat your kid...

I ain't defending Uncle Luke but hasn't Hugh Hefner been doing the same ish for damn near 50 years? You mean to tell me there's no abuse or explotation going on over at the grotto?

I refuse to let the talking heads in the idiot box put words in my mouth to say that some 25 year old kid signed to a recording contract has me disrespecting my mother and sister.

Excuses, excuses...

I've never seen so many that have been wanting to say it, say it. Blog reading and newspaper articles have listed the N-word so many times, and to my knowledge that wasn't said two weeks ago. Is it because you want to say it just to get away with it?

Not all of y'all, just that chosen few. You know.

Imus didn't piss me off, all of the self-serving, closet racist ass individuals that decided to come out. I'm glad you did.

At least back in the day, my daddy and grand daddy knew who the foe was... I'm mad that it took this for you to rear your stankin' asses. Now I know where to aim.

The streets have never stopped watching. If you won't police it, we will.

Lil Brother's Bornday

I can't believe this cat turns 27 today.

My brother Alonzo...

• I remember when I used to change his diaper
• chase his nekkid ass around the house to make him take a bath
• Play fighting and wrestling all the damn time
• us hanging out, thus keeping him off the corner
• moving into him and my sis' apartment in when they were in undergrad
• watching the crew cry at his high school graduation
• dropping his ass off at Northern Illinois University
• seeing the Sox clinch the pennant in 1993
• doing the super bowl thing each year (that's us cheering the Bears on in the SB above)
• seeing him fall in love
• standing at his side at his wedding
• being in the room when his first born was born
• witnessing him as a father on the daily - and do it right
• staring at him and Pops - marvelling at the resemblance
• just being his friend

I am proud to even know you man. Even prouder to know that you are the college grad, husband, father, brother, son, youngest supervisor on the job and grandson in the greatest definition. I am proud that you call me brother. It has been a surreal, but blessed experience to see you grow, I hope to live to see you pass all that you are to your great-grandkids.

I love you bruh...

Happy Birthday

.

.

.

.

Don't Forget

It's All On You

I'm not going to delve into that situation. So many have eloquently given opinion and I refuse to touch it. Let's not beat a dead horse. Let it do what it do.

But you didn't think I wasn't going to chastise your ass.

Yeah, you.

Not you baby, I know we're here *points*, they know who they are.

900 billion dollars a year and you haven't realized our power? All the complaining about what other folks say and you haven't divested your own dollar from the bullshit collectives that support and promote that lifestyle, culture and language, which means you cannot complain.

It's bigger than Hip Hop.

Don't blame this on Hip Hop culture because Moms Mabley, Redd Foxx and Pigmeat Markham was doing it way before Snoop didn't love them hos. We had a place for it back in the day because I'm old enough to remember which makes me responsible for the current climate because folks my age have children that it influences which means if I'm talking about you it starts in your home.

We cannot police society as a whole but you can explain the difference between entertainment and reality. Folks are going to say and do what they want but understand that there is a difference between rap artists and radio talk show hosts. If you want the new Three 6 Mafia joint you can choose to buy it. If they don't sell enough copies, them or any artist for that matter will get dropped. See, support comes from the masses. If you speak on public airwaves then you have a responsibility to be as fair and impartial as you can because the public and other interests pay the host to speak and when one goes off on a tangent, he or she can and will be corrected.

It is what you tolerate and are not teaching your children. Forget the fact that the track is hot for one moment and think of the influence some cats have over your kids.

Exactly.

If you don't think that way about your own children, then why would you support someone that insults your intelligence and calls you a nigger or bitch while taking your money at the same time? And why would you let your kids think that was cool or respectful?

See, it all starts with you. You have that power. If you don't like how it's going down then let em know.

Keep your money in your pocket. And educate your children accordingly. Time to kick it old school cause this new stuff ain't working. Until you have control of your wallet or pocketbook and until your children have knowledge of self understand that you are not in control of anything, which means that folks can and will say or do anything...

Anything.

And when things like what happens happen and it keeps on happening, what does that make you?

300th Post

Wassup my virtual play cousins!

This one right here is my 300th post on Blogger. I don't know what to feel or say, I just hope that I have 300 more... I'm sure I do. This has become a part of who I am. Funny, because I'm working on placing the right words and phrases together in the form of a few grant proposals to make the blogging thing my job and my life thru the BrownBloggers Initiative. I'm working on making the site less corny and more about... Ahem... Brown bloggers.

shameless self promotion, huh?

My back hurts. It is actually a burning sensation in the lower left of the small of the thingee. I didn't sleep at all last night, I just laid there motionless. When I got up to make that midnight water run I changed underwear and lo and behold...

The pain subsided somewhat.

I guess the moral is that the body likes what it likes and for me, the Hanes boxer-brief joints are not the way to go.


Been in Houston for a month now and it's been rough for me health wise. I've not been sharing how difficult it has been for me to function since getting here. My body seems to be breaking down due to overuse and lack of sleep. My diet has been shit as well. I actually came down here on a whim, a wing and a prayer seeing as I only know one person here. A month ago I had pneumonia and failed a work physical and Chicago was kicking my ass (it was below zero and not letting up), so I just came. Glad I did. The warm weather from the gulf has righted my ship internally, but physically I am still in need of repair. I can barely walk without pain. I cannot sleep and things seem to be getting worse. In actuality I've been non active since getting here trying to rest up and recoup before getting back on the road.

Don't cry for me Argentina, I found a Bikram college of yoga here and a gym membership. A little hot yoga and some extreme cardio and weight training will help me get right.


Also got offered positions with the Fed and the Metropolitan Transportation Authority. There are other offers on the table, but with the non-profit thing going full swing it's getting to be a little too much. I have to make a decision in the week and this will determine if I make Houston my home for a minute. I wanna make a decision but that means that I have to commit to something jobwise I might not be ready for, even if the money and security is damn good.


I could be in dire straights in my 300th post, but...

The Plural Thing

cop that joint by clicking on the book or here

The Plural Thing: Spiritually Preparing for Your Soul Mate is the latest from Linda Dominique Grosvenor. The book delves into how to best prepare yourself to receive your mate, how to be equally yolked and how to be right by yourself.

Now I haven't read the joint yet but I'm buying it and I hope you do TODAY. Not only is this a good thing, it's supporting your own. Princess Dominique is not only a best selling author but a regular contributor to the brown blogosphere. Get over to her spot and, get lifted and don't forget to circulate the green dollar by doing brown business.

Ya dig?

Recognize.

39 years ago today a 39 year old man was killed on the balcony of the Lorraine Motel in Memphis.

This wasn't just any 39 year old man. I know that you know this.

You do know this, or have you forgotten? You probably forgot. It's cool though, I know you got work and the kids and traffic and classes and thangs. Plus right now you're probably trying to score tickets to that new family flick that opens tonight starring 'Amerikkka's Most Wanted', Don Mega.

Or you were probably mourning the loss of Coach Rob... Didn't get that news either, huh?

On my way down to Texas I spent a day in Memphis. This was mere weeks ago and I just didn't have the time to get over there to the motel. Funny thing, when I got to Houston the first program I watched on TV was a documentary of Memphis and it covered the significance of that place and what happened in detail.

I'm glad I didn't go that day. My heart was too heavy.

In a day and age where we get too important for the good of everyone else by way of duty, responsibility and vanity we tend to forget to respect the architects. In this day and age where policing of ourselves is at an all time low, we seem to forget the events that shaped the way things are now and how good we actually have it.

Because we have it good and we need to let the world know by not removing the tag...

Maybe Aaron McGruder was correct in his assessment of our levels of what is important to us and how we respect the past. Maybe we do belittle other folks' fortunes to make our shit smell that much sweeter.

Maybe.

I come from Chicago where there are still vacant lots and abandoned buildings that once stood proud over the streets of the city of wind until, dare I call it an 'event' happened 39 years ago that destroyed them all and ran away even the red liners, land stealers and slum brokers.

They still haven't come back and those areas are still broken. Maybe some of those places are beyond repair. I was riding through Houston yesterday all air conditioned when I happened on a few of the wards here. I imagine that there are a few spots in that vast space of a shanty town where our people stay that was destroyed in the riots that haven't been rebuilt as well.

Almost made me cry until I thought:

Forget this. I know. Some of us know. Hell, we all should know. What makes anything else more important that rebuilding this?

Then I remembered that it starts at home.

Most of you will read this from your CRT at work. Some will get this feed via your wi-fi connection. Some of you will continue duties and responsibilities and then read this in the dead of night, the day will pass that ass up and you still probably won't realize that just 39 years ago we tore some shit up in an attempt to blow off steam, vent hundreds of years of frustration, mourn the loss of a point of light and try to find a way to get free while the so-called authority dug through the rubble. On the other side of those buildings and vacant lots we fail to rebuild. How far have we really come seeing as most of us either have really truly forgotten, haven't been taught or plum just don't care?

You better recognize.

Whatchu Know About It?

Hustling bus transfers
smoking shorted squares

ordering deli meat by the dollar, not by the pound
food stamp cards with PIN's that don't work right
coupon hustling

leaving expensive, hard to carry ish at the bottom of the shopping cart
stretching that kool aid... with more water and sugar
pushing pop bottles
letting go of your favorite CDs to cover that pawn ticket

in the lobby of the courthouse praying that the arresting officer no-shows

getting thru the line at county hospital in less than 4 hours
getting that extra chicken wing in your order
irregular sized joints... special priced to move
display models

the cable not being cut off
finding the right customer service rep that'll extend your due date

not getting that scrilla in the mail when you promised everybody...
traffic moving too damn slow on the way to that sure bet interview
seeing your old classmates at your worst...

not being able to get popcorn at the movies
spending your kicking it money to keep the lights on because...
getting sick and not getting the rest you need because the kids need you
missing the last slot in that pre req you need next fall
financial aid check short

not enough gas the day before payday
going to church just to get a hot meal at someone's house
hog head cheese
potted meat
hot dogs on sale for 99 cents... you know, breakfast, lunch and dinner?

hitting the back door at the back of the bus
hustling dubbed mix tapes
boosting for resale to make rent
getting a payday loan to pay off that other payday loan

celly getting cut off the week you're waiting for that call
merching your vicodin ($10 a pop... sheeeyit!)
moving all of your DVDs

giving plasma
your futon/bed/couch/table/bookcase

calling that spot to get in on that medical research ish
scalping your cousin's tickets to the game
coming home in the stealth of night to avoid the landlord

sitting with the lights off so no one knows you're home
using your overdraft protection

Bor.ders being your library
free internet at the public library... that lasts 45 minutes

or just bouncing that check because you have to

spending your last dollar on that lotto ticket

standing in the free cheese line
and actually using that powdered milk
and that cheese

the 99 cent menu
foam rollers masquerading as a mattress

scooping all of the free coupons BK and KFC outta the building vestibule
dark meat - 3 pieces for $1.99
the 10 cent sale
Buy one get one...

getting over on them cee-lo and craps cats on the corner
messing with the blackjack table with your last $100
copping wears from the goodwill and salvation army spots

not being able to express your frustration properly
crying because it hurts to be isolated and alone in partial poverty

being able to afford bullshit off the dollar menu but not the healthy shit
younger cats with ice, rims and fat pockets vs you and your degree(s) and being broke

washing the same 3 shirts over by hand, rotating them in the same workweek
stealing from the school cafeteria
getting drunk to forget your troubles
window shopping at the dollar store

getting your cousin to 'flip' your tax return
selling Sam's Club candy bars to get car fare...


no AC in July, sweating it out at 2am... on the floor
loosing the joints you put in lay away
that old-ass radio that can't get the station

sleeping thru the gunshots


not calling your mama when you know you need to, but just can't

Today Is My Sister's Birthday

That's my sister Heather from last year's birthday bash. There is no bash this year seeing that she's either on her way or already in Dallas, I'm in Houston (gotta be close enough to look out for that ass, or is it the other way around?) and Little Brother is in Chicago. Whatever, we still call each other and acknowledge how much sand is filling our hourglasses, even if I don't celebrate mine.


I'll spend most of my time today aside from bugging her working on the new project. She's 28. I'm getting old because at one time I was resident babysitter and diaper changer, keeping me away from many a school dance...

Whatever That Purpose May Be...

"I love the connections I've made through blogging, but at the same time I want to be respectful of this collective's purpose, whatever that may be. "

Zesty - In response to my post: "The Idea Is Still Maturing... Slowly"



I tell you what the purpose behind BrownBloggers is:

As a brown skinned man in America I gravitate to a lot of things. Because of my African heritage, I'm attracted to the kick of the drum and all that it has to offer. I love hip hop, even in it's current state. I love black literature and I consume it because it and things like African American art are pretty much ignored anyway and I feel like I get to have certain things to myself based on that. But as an artist, I feel for those that put great literary pieces of work together can can't get credit, accolades and compensation because either their work is 'too black' or is largely ignored. That hurts me.

As a multi-cultural kid of Latin heritage. I also recognize and respect the richness of my dual cultures. I also respect the fact that my ancestors came to this place from many places via Mother Africa. I may not believe in or have the faith based system that my African American mother or Puerto Rican father has but I have been raised to have an open mind, the willingness to learn and respect for what was taught to me. I attended Catholic school and was baptized as such at an early age. I also converted to Protestantism as a teenager and then Islam as an adult while serving in the military. After all that I have seen, I never felt the need to trash another person's culture or belief system because it is different or unfamiliar. Instead I choose to embrace all of it as my own. It made me... Me.

I've dated out of my race and out of my country. No, I never dated a white girl, but I have dated women of Japanese, Korean, Chilean and Indian heritage. I also courted a Nigerian woman and tried to marry a sister from that island just off the coast of Florida.

What I'm saying is, I got a chance to travel and live abroad and meet people, and I'm nowhere finished from doing and experiencing that. As much as I travel and experience stuff, no one group of people has is as bad as my family here in the states. It seems that society has everything for everyone, but access to my people's thang is damn near impossible. Yes, there are some that have the loot to market and advertise and some of us that have done good in and out of the hood, but it is not enough. So when I'm seeing folks on the internet coming together from all over the place in the attempt to share something good and having commonality, that gets me excited.

So I wanna do my part to organize and continue in that tradition.

There is no intention of excluding anyone from BrownBloggers. Just like BlackPlanet, Black Voices, Black America Web and other sites of the ilk, whomever wants to participate regardless of background or color can and will and I hope the same for BrownBloggers. There is a focus, to bring together brown-skinned bloggers of many backgrounds and use that commonality, the love of art, history, family, the spirit, education, health and such to enhance the online experience of the user whatever their culture may be. There ain't no crime in that, well at least I hope not.

I also recognize that in cyberspace there is a digital divide. The balance between the sensational and sensible needs to be rescaled. Emphasis on the superficial when it comes to brown-skinned people America seems to outweigh that of what some consider sensible, and I want to do what I can to get my weight up on the other side of the scale. There is unevenness, so if I can create anything to bring folk together to have uplifting conversation geared towards building my community I will do so. This is what BrownBloggers is to be. A place for folks that look like me to come and congregate and fellowship with each other to reach a common goal, enhancing each other's cyber experience thru infoshare... And I plan on monthly blogger meet and greets so we can put faces to the words typed and get to the bottom of the myriad of problems that seem to keep us apart and hold us back, whatever that may be.

Fortunately, I am 3 brown skinned cultures deep in heritage. I am American of African heritage, I am an islander from the Caribbean and I am also from a small country in South America. There are many more of my kinfolk with brown or brownish type skin that need a forum, a meeting place, an ujima.

I feel it's time for me to get off my ass and do something about it. I'll take the ridicule and the questioning, but I'll also sleep better at night knowing that I can finally go someplace on the world wide web where folks who look like me and can fellowship without the bullshit.

The Idea Is Still Maturing... Slowly

http://www.brownbloggers.org/ is up... It needs legs to run and I am only one person performing surgery.

Scalpel?



Anyone?



Buehler? Buehler? Buehler?


It's early Monday morning and I still haven't decided on a decent and proper header page. I did a little work on the forums (well, I built the damn thing) and I realize that I need help doing this. So far, I have one other person helping out and another that registered.

Amen.

I need artwork, ideas other than mine and folks willing to moderate (it's not even a part time thing doing that, I just need you to look check in every now and then) a forum or two, Suggestions are necessary.

What I'm attempting to do here is establish a portal, blogger directory and forum that a bunch of brown skinned bloggers can come to, get the news, pass on some knowledge and discover a few new folks out there doing the damn thing. This is a non-profit venture. I wanna also get both a virtual meet and greet going as well as physical meetings with participants and registered users of the site.

Can you help? Wanna contribute? Can you help a brother build this thing? Holla back.

hassan@brownbloggers.org

Let me know what you can do to contribute. Let me know what you wanna see and experience. Criticize the hell out of what's being built. Drop a few ideas my way. Right now, the door to building and organizing from the ground up is wide open.

Until then, feel free to hit the forums, register and add to the template. That might be fun. If you wanna administer/moderate, send me a PM. I just might letcha' do that. Let's do something.

I double dog dare you.

The Idea Matures...

As I start this, it's damn near 3am. I'm sipping on a glass of Crown and 'I Like It Like That' is playing in the background on TV. I have about 10 additional windows open with about 8 tabs cracked open, reading replies to past entries I put out there some time ago.

It's time for some action, and I'm thinking of a master plan.

But ain't nuthin but sweat inside my hand...



sorry, I had that in my head

It's now a litle past 10 in the morning as I erase what was this post. I'll be brief. I said that before, but... I think there needs to be a place to go first. Where ideas are shared and conversations can be had. A directory and one stop shopping for forums and politics. A spot where contributions can be made by many. Some sort of portal. A place where the real 'Cross Country Ya-Dig Tour' can begin. First in cyberspace, next up... Town hall meetings.

So I give you:

www.brownbloggers.org

I need a little help with this... Who's game? If so, get at me: hassan@brownbloggers.org and we can discuss how you can be down.

More seroius than that Steady B record...

Bullet Statements

" I tried to find people like me – professionals, spouses, folks who are into the support of their race and the upliftment of it. Some were listed in the directory, but I couldn’t find them. When I teleported to their location, a few other people were there, looking around, appearing disoriented like me, asking questions like, “What can I do here?” "

A portion of Frank's response to my 3/20/2007 post: 'Do You Understand The Words Coming Out Of My Mouth?'




I won't get long winded... I hope you guys read Frank's entire entry from yesterday. It was everything I wanted to say. What exactly is a blog order you ask? How do we bring this thing together? Well:

• Respect the OGs in cyberspace - There are a handful of folks that have been here for a while dropping knowledge and kicking science. Those folks should be recognized as such. One should also take plenty of notes because them old schoolers reserve the right to stop blogging at any time.

• Come together, right now - We already think alike in some manner. This is why we keep meeting here in cyberspace. I know you realize that we communicate with each other more than we do with some siblings, parents, friends and such. How come we spend so much time together without one of us covering for drinks?

• Organize, somehow - I say somehow because some of us want to remain anonymous, and that's fine, but realize that if you spend this much time with someone the bond is already there. Back in the day, our parents and grandparents met in the shadows and darkness working to get us free. Technology has brought us together to do what... Get membership cards? Have town hall type meetings? Have cyber-meetings via online chat? Hmmm.

• Realize our power, there are strength in numbers - Next year is an election year. Not all of us have the same views but have the same interests: Solidifying family/self/community. Imagine if we came together and 501 (3) (c)'d ourselves into a Political Action Committee or special interest group. How much of a fire can we light under certain folks asses, being that we live everywhere and have organized like a cyber Voltron?

• Let's meet and greet! - It has to start somewhere. I'm not saying that we rent a space and get articles of incorporation. I'm not asking that we rally around a candidate and spam folks to hell in a rabid email campaign. What I am saying is like some of the east coast and southern members of the family that we find a place to come together and just kick it.

• Structure is necessary - There needs to be some sort of protocol or precedent set as far as us dealing with each other here in cyberspace. I'm not calling for a bunch or rules to be set in stone, we know that the joy of the internet is that it is unregulated and we can come and go as we please. I recognize that blogging does make us equal in some sorts, but recognize the fact that a sister like Rose has achieved business success, charitable status, held it down and probably pioneered modern day marriage and has been thru the jungle of raising a daughter. She deserves respect and is just one person out of thousands that choose to blog doing her thing. She volunteers this info and doesn't have to be anything to anyone but her family, business associates and friends, but she fellowships with us. This is why an order should be brought forth. Respect.

There is an order in all things. There is structure in everything. I'm not asking for a bunch of strangers to come together, create alter egos, fight crime and establish a hall of justice. I am asking a few thousand folks to take baby steps in communicating more effectively. Emails, phone calls and sitting around a few tables in the upcoming months can actually help put faces, respect and credibility to folks that are, get this: A part of our lives. Maybe if we can organize in some aspect we'll be able to learn, grow and be more successful in this thing called life.

Maybe

Do You Understand The Words Coming Out Of My Mouth?

I've noticed that my kinfolk are getting caught up in the age thing now more than ever. Even if one's issue has to do with something totally off the charts, it seems that age and position in life has a lot to do with it. Reason I bring that up is because it seems that for the most part we're all blogging, most of us are hitting the reply button as well but after all that reading and typing there still seems to be a bit of distance between us and no lesson learned at the end of the day.

I understand that we all wanna use this forum to vent our frustrations, share the new news and explain to the listening universe why we have the need to make it do what it do and not pay a therapist in doing so. In the years that this blogging thing has been moving for some, why haven't we moved a bit in making right what we vent about?

We need a blog order.

A couple of years ago there was a blogger that I had plenty of interest in. The sister used a portion of Nikki Giovanni's quote in the title of her blog. The entire quote is this:



"If you don't understand yourself you don't understand anybody else."



Can you smell me this morning? Do you underdig? Is you hyperblelating with me in your bowl of cheerios and/or bacon sammitch with cheese? I hope so. There is an order in all things. There is a reason we blurb our business to the world and there is a reason we scrape the underbelly of the galaxy to find folks much like ourselves and a reason we subscribe to the rss feed.

We want to understand ourselves.

I admit that it took a moment for me to get my ass in order with the universe. I am not perfect and I still don't have a smidgen of my shit together but I can testify to one thing: I am aware of my situation and all of my actions are geared towards making right what I can with the time I got. Stick with me as I lay this down, please.

There are certain bloggers on my blogroll that break down to me what it will be like to have grand master status. There are others that are my peers and we move in the same direction, we just do different ish. There are a handful that are much younger, but I admire how they do what they do because in some phrases and statements I can already see the greatness in who they are. There are a few sisters that need explanation where there are others that have all the answers but cannot see it as it laid right in front of them. There are daddies and husbands that lay the laws down even if they don't know they're writing new legislature. There is a family that blogs that totally gets it and it is amazing that more folk don't stop by and see what a strong, black family can be. There are rebels and revolutionaries, sisters doing it for themselves...

I respect the order of things by reading and understanding but I also notice that some of us stop by and see a lesson plan in action thru words and never apply the knowledge given. Based on their own blogposts as time goes by for some, there seems to be no lesson learned. We can no longer ignore life's lessons thru this medium. We all blog for a reason, we can no longer as a community and blogfam continue to ignore each other while typing at the same time. How much longer can we all be in the same room speaking with no one taking notes? How much longer can we not tell our co-workers, spouses, family and friends about some the phenomenal lessons we see on our screens in cubicle city? We read each other every day, some of this must stick and be applied for our own sake.

In saying this, I suggest that we have a blog order. Like a few bloggers have done, we must categorize and show respect for those that have old school status, acknowledge peers and lead the young ones out of the forest. We need to come together and have blogger think tanks, gatherings (like a few of my east coast homies) and blog mentors. This is not entertainment and it should be respected as such. What we have is a community, and I do know that we are all not geographically close, we still need to come together and learn from each other. Otherwise all that typing we do will go for nothing.

Y'all my cousins anyway. Can we get some virtual love and then gather together any way we can so we can understand each other? Then maybe we can understand ourselves.

You know what I'm asking. I'm also questioning if this can be done. If it can't, then we're all blogging for nothing. Please tell me that ain't true.

Monday Conversation

Get that ass over to Sister Toldja's spot and read her words, nuff said.



http://thebeautifulstruggler.blogspot.com/






You still here?

Texas Tornado Thursday

Thank the lord for Mega Doppler.

We can now see the flash floods at street level, helps me navigate the streets. Talk about after the rain, it got all 80-ish and thangs out today so I had to get out... And have chicken.

I think the chicken has me sleepy... It's been a while.

Lone Star Slumber

I can't sleep.

Not that I have trouble slipping into a slumber, I cannot sleep due to my body.

It hurts to lay in a bed.

My muscles ache, my back is tight and I have pain shooting thru my shoulders, preventing me from laying on my sides, back and belly. This sucks. But I can damn sure get to sleep sitting on a barstool.

Funky, huh?

When I fly, I can sleep in that seat. When I ride on a coach, I can pass the eff out with the quickness. When at the rest, I can rest only in a sitting position. I have a big ass bed and I am no longer used to laying in one. It seems that I need to be in perpetual travel mode in order to get some decent sleep. Now that doesn't mean I'm not getting proper rest, quite the contrary...

I just can't sleep in a bed.

I guess I'm accustomed to being in motion when trying to get some shut eye. That's a damn shame, ain't it. Oh, and I'm debating between New Orleans and Las Vegas on the next stop on the 'Hassan cross country ya dig tour'... Whatchu think?

Texas Toast Tuesday

So I woke up this morning and I was still in Texas.

Damn. I actually moved here. What the hell just happened? This time last week I was in Chicago freezing my ass off, contemplating my next move. Boy that happened quickly.

I still have the desire to be other places. I know in my heart that Texas is where I need to be now. You know, plant a seed or two and see if any other place'll take me. I still desire to be in Georgia, but there is a lot going on right here... In my mind. That whole editing phase looks like it'll take place right here in the lone star state. For a second I was tired of writing and searching for the right copy edit service, and then I pulled all of my stuff out to give it a once over.

Damn. I like writing.

Funny, I haven't been inspired to write new stuff as of late (meaning December thru February) and the new stuff that's been on my mind has a new slant, a new twist to it. I'm not ready to expose any of that stuff right now but I do have a piece I can share:

I now see you from the corners of my eyes

You exist in the shadows, lurking out of sight

I know you're there

You affect my thought on many occasions

your influence invokes change from within

I want to hate you for that but I cannot

Instead I amplify my abstract thought

embellish emotional senses of well being

or lack thereof

I admonish the blah and embrace my ultra creative

Releasing additional epithets of empathy for the boring

Tweaking more twists in my mind

I play with snippets of brainwaves to tease you

Hoping you would come out to rejoin the cognitive

and once again you'll be my muse

But you hide from me and I cannot accept that

Quit playing and bring that ass out...

Daddy needs to write more checks

2007 HassanOlumorotiNtimbanjayo

I just made that up... Whatever. I hope this thing still works.

How Hassan Got To Houston

That's right, I live here.

Lock, stock and all smoking barrels.

So how in the blue hell did I end up here? I knew something was wrong when I clocked a fever over 100 last Monday during the physical for the new job. Everything else was off too. I had what I thought was just a chest cold until that point. Although I had difficulty breathing and felt a little woozy, I never would have thought at all the climate change from Chicago to Atlanta to Houston would do me in.

It did.

So I sat there, my new coordinator pouting at the fact that I couldn't get on the road until I got clearance from a doctor, and me pouting, now knowing that within all of this movement, the packing and travelling, the flying and the wearing of the clothes (or lack thereof) damn near killed me. Funny, as a diabetic I have enhanced knowledge of some sorts of sick. This episode went right over my head. I mean, I didn't feel like I had pneumonia but I knew something was wrong.

I'm too good to wash out of the program, and the health thing was a setback only in the area of finance. I had planned on buying some new Apple branded products in the next month and without a salary, that's impossible to do. I was told to go home and recoup, to get well, bring a doctor's note and then I can have my assignment of alone. Once I healed up, I could run all over this country like a chicken with his head cut off. I agreed, then I reneged.

I have no home to go to.

I had made for damn sure that when I got back to Chicago that I would not plant roots. I broke so-called friendships and blew up bridges in an effort to not be home in that place. All I wanted when I returned back in October was to make Chicago temporary sanctuary until I got my shoulder fixed. I got medicated, rehabbed and took a small, non-impact position back in cubicle hell to keep the drinks coming. I did that, made a come-up on this new independent contractor assignment, threw away more stuff with plans on living out of bags full of portable hard drives and memory cards. I pulled the plug on being anywhere in Chicago, and for a moment in time Monday afternoon, I had to think about where I needed to go to lay my head.

Some of you may have a friend in Jesus, I have a friend in Houston.

I didn't even know if the company would pay my way here but they did, and I'm here now getting plenty of rest, breaking fevers and looking to getting back on the road. Thing is, I never expected to be here beyond a visit or eight. I never expected to like this place as far as living is concerned. I never expected to be kissed by the sun like this...

I like this place, and I can get used to being here if need be. That depends on my friend. I still have the hunger and the urge to set up shop in Atlanta, and at this point I'm sticking to my original plan. I'm just glad that I had Houston to come to. I'll get to the ATL, I might just need a moving truck when I make those plans to get there. As for the now, I'm better, most of the congestion is gone from my lungs and I actually had enough energy this weekend to go see 300. Even though I have a friend here, that friend has a life and other commitments, so a lot of stuff done so far in Houston has been done dolo. Alone. It's cool though. I need to explore things for myself anyway.

Coming Up For Air

Happy March campers!

Okay, so I took Black History Month off in order to get some things done. I had a bunch of things to do to properly secure my future as an artist and a writer. Let's see...

I quit my job
I slept and ate both in Texas and Georgia
I went back into the trucking industry
I got rid of even more stuff and now my possessions can fit into one bag

and a knapsack.

I got one step closer to getting to Africa by securing the new gig
I let a few so-called friends go and made a few new ones
I even got a 'Dear John' letter from someone I considered a friend


So February was busy as hell and I really didn't feel like blogging worth a damn. I did read and try to keep up and I see that I wasn't the only cat that decided to enhance my calm. A few folks even decided to call it quits, I can't do that.

Well not just yet.

Cool thing about the new gig, I travel and live on the road throughout the week and have weekends off, and I'm already working on making a few stops in NYC and ATL my surrogate home on those weekends. I made a hell of a lot of calls and sent a whole lot of emails as well as using standard postage getting promo materials out so I can do my thing and sell a few CDs and books. I'm almost done.

I have no clue when I'll get back to blogging on a regular basis, I'm back on the 'Hassan Cross-Country Ya Dig Tour' starting Wednesday. I'm headed out west this week and then the road back east gets travelled the week after that. I'm back in Chicago the last week of March/first week of April, so I'll try to keep up, take a lot of pics and update as much as I can.

I love busy.
Unless it's chilling with my brother
Or struggling thru that Chicago cold

Or chilling with my niece, even if it means a cleaning billOr just lamping in Houston

Oh Snap!

That's right dammit.

I blogged.

Haven't had the motivation in the past week and some change. Sometimes silence is golden.

Don't worry, everything still works.

Hell, my phone broke and I just decided to get it fixed. I'm blogging using the store display laptop. The speed is fine, I night just buy this broadband card.

I'm out for now.

I miss you guys


Later gator.

doo the Humpty Hump, doo the Humpty Hump

So...

It's the middle of the week and I'm bored out of my mind. I signed on to roll out with a new transport company which means this little dance I do at my current, but short lived gig is just that. A dance. More like me getting 30 seconds on Soul Train as I boogie oogie oogie on down the line hamming it up doing that shoulder thing, thus maximizing my camera time. Trying to get thru the day knowing that I won't be there in a few short weeks makes a brother want to hit that snooze button.

Okay, wait. I have no snooze button.

I'm one of those cats that just gets up and it happens to be the right time to do so. Some nights I'm on the phone until... It's time to get up. Other times I'm watching this extensive collection of DVDs I've collected the last time I was roaming the US via its interstate system. I'm loving my Nigerian titles. African novellas are the ish!

How does one stay focused on working for the man when in mere days they'll be working for themselves? The new gig with the transportation people is a independent contractor job. I visualized, made my actions positive towards it and claimed it with my spirit, then I made a phone call... Oh snap, in March I start paying myself. It's just like what the big O said... Write your own checks, son! Pay yourself, kid!

Wait, that was Funkmaster Flex.

I'm slippin.

Hey, guess what? It's not hard anymore to just turn off the TV and get an hour or two of writing in for the book. It ain't hard (now that I have some new help) to put that chorus in my head onto an unfinished track. Lot's of emailing though fer sure, but I seem to have the concept down with this new cat that's beatmaking for me. He's downstate and we barely talk to each other offline. I tell him something, leave it on his voicemail or he'll email me a track and I find something stupid to jot down and we go from there. I wonder why that ish didn't work in the past.

I'm looking to get into a condo here in the Chicago area that I can sublet on short notice. Thank the lord for craigs.list (to find folks to sublet to) and thank the lord for redevelopment in my old neighborhood. Two bedrooms and a possible two baths wrapped up somewhere around 2500 square feet is a reality for my stank ass. It took all of this time, a few break-ups and me wandering away from Chicago to have finally found some semblance of home (upon lender preapproval).

I wanna teach, so there are classes that I gotta take right here in the Chi, so I can't leave just yet. There are also so many ends (I had to take away the loose moniker) that need tying here that I might as well base myself out of here. Plus that opportunity with the transport folks allows me to be here often (weekends) and have control of my schedule. And the pay is tight too. I just hope I don't get distracted away from what I gotta do now that I was able to put the clamps down on the job situation. A single man with no kids and his nights and weekends free with some loose change in his pocket can cause a lot of trouble.

I just wanna finish my book.
And take these classes that I can finally afford.
And get this CD on dem skreets.

Now, I gotta focus and get back to getting up early enough to get to work. For now. I totally blew Monday off and called in and was late both Tuesday and today. On purpose. I need two more paychecks from their asses, so I better hem it up.

Like a 0ne inch cuff on a pleated pant leg.

"Ain't nothing like a fresh pair of baggies"
- Morris Day

Monday Night Rah

Damn...

It's almost been a week. I know, I know. I've been a little incognegro in the past week. Just adjusting and thangs. New job, a lot of travel and adjusting to my living arrangement. It is supposed to be 35 degrees below zero here, and it feels of it. From zooming from the spot to a favorite cafe I can't get my feet to get warm enough. All conditions gear my ass!

I got a chance to hang out with my brother and catch the big game yesterday. We had... Wait, I had fun. My brother was five the last time the home team made it this far, so he was hellbent on rooting for the home team. I embarrassingly admitted to being in high school and that made my brother freak a little and break the tension of him and others a little too into a simple football game. Yes, dude counted on his fingers the years that I've been alive and laughed. I laughed too. I'm just not sure if I was laughing with him.

We went to this uber bar out in the burbs and the Chicago thing was in overdrive. For the last two weeks I watched damn near every reporter from each TV station here report about absolutely nothing from Miami just because the home team made it. Nothing was said about game planning, strategies for winning nor was any practice footage shown. It seems everyone drank the Bears championship kool aid and never considered that a game had to be played for the Bears to actually win.

And then the game was played.
And they lost.

Next question.

But other than that, I got plans to get back on the road and see the east coast in the next few weeks. Just signed up with another transport company. I'm tired of sitting on my ass and watching the world when I can come to it. The new job totally sucks in a I have to go to work and deal with these assholes and not sit around and chill in my truck sort of way, but other than that...

I'm happy.

My best friend just made it convenient for me to want to stay in Chicago. Friends need friends and she needs me, so I ain't going too far with the new driving job. I might just go regional, stack my paper for the Africa trip and get in 2 huge investments of classes that'll help me be able to teach. The book of poetry is writing itself and the music stuff is cool right now.

I'm chilling, you?