Energy

I didn't think I'd have the energy to make it thru this week seeing that I am currently taking medication to rid myself of a bacterial infection, but I pretty much slept thru the whole weekend.

Gives me the much needed energy to get my learn on about my position with big oil.

Yesterday was my father's birthday, and although I'm not a celebrator I called him anyway and ended up talking about my truth. We haven't spoken since March I believe and even though we always have much to discuss we just didn't cross paths since that time.

He already knew about me, and not what he heard from my sister or brothers.

He knew that I had drained myself stressing over my attempts to get back on track healthwise and my dealings with folks and situations here in Houston and told me to stay the course because like I always tell him: "The Creator Has A Masterplan". He's more spititual these days after going thru the shit as a younger man dealing with my sibs and I, my mother and being a black man in the 60's thur 80's. He got caught up with drugs and split with my mom. He then got his shit together and has been a valuable asset in my life ever since. He always has energy.

I also gained energy this weekend by being told certain things. Not things I wanted to hear, but truths that needed to be spoken. Whatever happens in my life is what I want to happen, I just had to hear that same mantra from her. I am already obligated to so much, I wanted to know that my obligations to her were exactly what was stated in the beginning and it had to be said. Not that I didn't believe her now as opposed to then but when the vibe changed between us sometime ago it was very negative in my assessment. Not only did I hate that vibe (and I still do), I hated the fact that at one point I was expected to continue to go down that vibe's path and I wasn't going to regardless.

You 'know' me, I fight shit that I even think is against me and what I want to do.

My dreams have already been deferred and getting up from my most recent fall has been the hardest thing for me to overcome. I thought it was physical or monetary but Pops basically stated that I needed the help in getting up in all aspects and sometimes it's in a person to give themselves so that the other can rise. "Repayment is something so different and spiritual, no matter what you do you cannot block the blessings she'll receive as a result of dealing with your ass. Continue to do yourself son, when the spirit is finished with you repayment would have already taken place and you'll know how to transition into your next self and she will too."

That's why I hadn't spoken to Pops in a minute. I needed the proper energy to receive the message that was meant for me. Some things still don't make sense to me but I'll ride this wave of energy until I get better understanding. Like, why did I get these messages this weekend? What brought all of that out and why did I have to hear certain things that I thought I already knew all over again?

That's how energy is. Same instructions on the box, different vibe.

Memorial Day

Konichiwa, bitches...

I've aways liked Memorial Day Weekend. It normally has been the weekend where I got together with a few of my old military mates and shot the shit about who did what and how good we looked doing it back in the day when we wore a uniform for our power drunk uncle.

You've seen that before. Yeah, those days.

Yeah man, that is always the shit. Every year, I'd find some unlucky som' bitch (or group of som' bitches) that'll have a beer or twelve with me and pay tribute to the fallen and talk a gang of shit, but this year is a first that I'm not hanging out with the Cold Steel Crew. No ceremonies, no alcohol-influenced tales from the land of sand, no fibbing about maxing one's PT test. It's just me, writhing in pain and periodically losing consciousness due to the medications I'm popping for some staph infection I picked up last fall (thanks to Doc Rod of the Houston VA for the extra work and this important info). Seems that I got infected (probably while in Salt Lake City while utilizing my former trucking company's facilities, maybe from the facility in Chicago where I did my rehab. WAIT... The children's hospital I volunteered from September to January...) while receiving treatment for my torn rotator cuff.

It's cool. I'm pretty bad ass on this one. Just lay around, play a little solitaire, fiddle with my PDA, surf the net a little bit when I'm awake and diddle with the tracks Al and I did a few months ago. I'm keeping busy enough to wanna blank out for a few hours and still have enough energy to go and slave for big oil's stanking ass next week. Sleep is the new black. It looks good on me.

I don't miss the fellas that much, but I wish I could have done something with em this weekend. Every year it seems that someone gets dead or divorced or something, so I hope to hell things stay the same for any impromptu reunions we have in the near future.

I hope you remember that cousin or uncle, your brother, father or son. Your sister, Ma Dukes, husband, wife or auntie that either has served or who are currently serving somewhere in between bites of them tender-ass ribs. Lick your fingers, put em together and say a prayer and thank them for doing the impossible.

Because freedom ain't free y'all. Somebody has to pay so you can get your 'que on.

Time for another nap... With y'all stankin' barbecuing asses

Last Weekend Of Spring And I've Misplaced My Mojo

Have you ever reached a point where you had so much to say, a whole lot of emotion to express but was stymied by some unseen force and wasn't up to task to fight back hard enough to get those things out?

I think I'm at that point.

Maybe it's the medication I was given at the beginning of the week that has me feeling a lil on the extra, extra tired tip. Who knows? There is so much I want to get out and put here in this canvas but I feel like I just don't have the time to do it. Whenever I get the urge to do something, especially this week I've put it off and pretty much slept that time away. I'm writing this during the time I usually get myself ready to go to work, so this text is being forced.

It's day three at the new gig and I really appreciate the opportunity to roll with big oil. There is a lot to learn and even more to do in the role I was given. I should excel in that position once I get my bearings and start floating my own boat. Thing is, do I really deserve to be there feeling the way I do?

Me dropping everything (art included) to come to Texas is really hitting me hard right now. It's about 90 days in and I'm starting to really get uncomfortable to the point of going stir crazy if it wasn't for this job. I miss all of the little things about Chicago, Atlanta and Salt Lake City. The fact that I know folks in those places and could easily stroll into a pub, cafe or someone's place and have familiarity with the people, places and things that make these places special to me in some manner is one of the biggest things I miss badly.

I also miss my sibs, nieces and nephews
And my cats
And the few folks that I called friend
my ability to hang off the end of the bar at Rannalli's in Chicago
andthe soup thingee and weird cappuccino at Java Monkey in Decatur
and eating breakfast with Pops
being in Al's basement, putting something together in the name of Hip Hop

I can't get any of that here, and I wish for the life of me that I could have five minutes in with any on of those things on my list above.

The summer begins and my guy Troy ain't calling me to go hang out til the crack of dawn's ass. It's going to be weird adjusting to being in Houston as a functional person, but I'll manage I suppose. As long as I can get my creative mojo back then I'll be able to do anything.

Have you seen my mojo?

To The Left, To The Left...

My thanks for the well wishes. The medication will kick in soon, then it's on.

While I was writhing in pain this weekend I made sure to clear out my Saturday night to check out the newest VH1 Rock Doc titled: The Last Days Of Left Eye. I have always been a fan of Lisa Lopes and really fell into her solo joint 'Supernova' when it finally came out. Her writing on that one right there is introspective and very sharing of her mindset in the wake of all of the madness that took us all for a ride a few years before.

I was amazed in her awareness and acquisition of knowledge and how she applied it to better herself. I love the fact that she traveled to be where her mind could be free of the clutter that confused and influenced her into doing some very negative things. She was definitely on some grown person ish the last years of her life. I wish she could have continued her missions. She had influence over so many.

I heard about the documentary she was filming during the last days of her life and I never thought that the films would ever be released for us to see. I applaud her family and producers for letting us know her truth, even if it is 5 years after the fact.

The controversy over if the film should be released and what actually happened during filming is running ablaze all over the internet, is the major focus of office chatter and in IM conversations . I wish that we would sometimes take what we see, process it and then attempt to learn from it before we get our blab on. What I saw is probably not what you saw, but if you saw it, then I'm sure you had an opinion. Just know that everything shouldn't be sensationalized. Even in death, Lisa Lopes is still on the mouths of folks in the hood. She even spoke about an incident involving the initial press conference for TLC's last album 'Fan Mail'. She basically felt that she would still be the star even if she chose to no-show. Matter of fact, she no-showed and became a bigger star and the focus the the group's latest endeavor in doing so. Pre-calculated sure, but Left Eye always knew how to make us want more of her.

If you don't know, Lisa was heavy into numerology and astrology, and had many a premonition and dreams involving 'spirits' that were chasing her. She felt that the universe had an order and Karma and the natural selection of how things should be will one day adjust thru the involvement of one's life and what would either happen or wouldn't happen. She swore that even though she felt at ease with herself, was giving in every aspect of her being that eventually the spirit would catch up with her and adjust accordingly.

On the day before her own life ended, she hit a young Honduran boy and he slipped into a coma and eventually died hours after due to his injuries. Lisa 'knew' that death had the wrong person and even said that death got the wrong person. The little boy's last name was Lopes.

She paid for all of his family's expenses and helped prep the boy for his funeral and burial.
She kept the shoes he died in.
While holding the shoes in front of the camera, she mentioned that death chose the wrong Lopes.
She also shared a dream she had the night before about her being on another plane.
The last week of filming, she totally lost control of filming, her guests and the overall vibe.

She knew

The next morning, she wanted to drive the whole crew she came to Honduras with to a spot to get shots of the countryside with the film crew. From the look of the documentary they made it to get those shots and then hit the road.

Her brother had a cam in the front seat of the truck she was driving and filmed the accident. They showed footage of this up to the moment of impact. It had been noted that the whole thing was shot, and a while ago audio was released from the video footage, so there is additional video of the accident, but the documentary was tasteful enough to only give us what we need to know for our own understanding, and for that I am grateful.

The one thing that will haunt me and make me smile in the same moment is the look Lisa had on her face mere seconds before the crash. I have never in my life seen that look on anyone's face.

Ever.

Lisa Nicole Lopes was at peace with her existence, and damn if I know, I think she knew. Not probably in that particular moment, but it's an old Klingon saying: "Today is a good day to die!"

The look on her face and her overall vibe that day was just that. That and "Today is a day to have no regrets and I have no enemies and no undone resolutions". I got closure on the understanding it takes to write the incredible album 'Supernova' is. You might not like the overall vibe or the track selection, but I urge you to cop that joint and listen. As a writer and a cat that records, I struggle to have the clarity in writing her emotions relays in that project. There should be more artists with talent like Left Eye had.

As I sit here on the mend, I hope and pray to any and all that is sacred and holy that one day I can get to the place she was with herself before I leave this place. I struggle with the overall satisfaction in the quality of my life and what I'm doing with it to be effective in finding my place of peace every day. Most times I'm disappointed in where I am and what I'm doing, not to make an impact in other people's lives, but the impact to me. I need to ensure myself that I have done something to contribute to the betterment of someone, something or just some____ in general. In my 36 years I haven't even made a pencil sketch of my charcoal masterpiece, so in today's affirmation of who I am and what I must do to be useful before I'm flower food I pledge to be more aware of the forces unseen so I can do what I can to avoid ones that are distracting and draining and gravitate towards the spiritual that can help me define us by helping me define myself by giving more of me, my time and what I can from my wallet.

I now have yet another blueprint in Lisa on how to get there.

Five years removed and she still amazes and impresses me. There are few that have done this and they know who they are, I've written about some, there are a couple that inspire me to continue my creative journey. I hope to amass a list of these folks so in my last moments I can feel the sense of completion that Lisa and those others had and have, make a complete rundown of em', smile and leave much quieter and with less drama than I did when I got here.

Ya dig?

INFECTED!!!

Peace fam...

I just got back from the hospital and somehow I have an infection in both kidneys. I got poked and prodded, quizzed and interrogated in what seemed to be the longest 4 hours in my life. Everything is cool so far other than me being in considerable pain. It burns more on the right side of my lower back than the left. I can feel my friggin kidneys burn. Ain't that something? Now you would think that I would have the 'it rains when it pours' attitude now but I'm not even on that right now.

I got a handful of the VA's finest elixirs and formulary tablets...

I just need a little time to get it in my system and let it work. I have never felt the type of pain that I feel now, it's kind of new and exciting and scary as hell all in the same breath. A lot has happened to my physical being since August of last year and I'm still here.

Let me heal. I'll be around.

In Response to Your Last Letter...

I ain't even responding to that last piece of bullshit.

I got the blog on Saturdays and Sundays you little bitch.

I already know why you act the way you act and why you're all passive in your most recent actions. You stopped believing in a higher power and the shit hit you the moment you got back to Chicago last September.

You have always been a skeptic. Going to Catholic school really fucked you over big time back in the day. All that bullshit pumped into your head about rules, regulations and duty trumped any story about prophets, history and redemptions of one's soul. From the moment that priest told you that in seminary one must have understanding of mythology to the days in March the church waits for that new set of rules that its top priest hands down to the masses, you knew that religion was bullshit.

You played around with seminary classes

got baptized as Baptist
And then you were Muslim
Hebrew Israelite
Studied Nuwabian
Spent one day at Giza

Now that led that ass to Egyptology and from Minister Farrakhan, Dr Malachi Z. York, Bishop Eddie Long, Rev Jeremiah Wright, Dr Wayne Dwyer and others referring to history as well as scripture, you knew in your heart that there was more than what man wrote and whatever that was, it was more powerful than anything written.

Even the Book Of Thomas

and before that there was Osiris, Isis and Horace... Yeah, that holy trinity.

But it was a culmination of your life that affected all the things you do and what you believe in wasn't it? After all the failures and misfortune your punk ass experienced in the short time you graced the planet with your illustrious and fabulous presence you realize that triumph comes from within. The world needs someone, something else to believe in when shit fails. Fear of the unknown had you shook like a bunch of other folks. You tried to turn to what a lot of other folks turned to but you see something else.

You see the bullshit.

Now there may be a God or gods... There may be prophets and gospels but what you have experienced and learned tells you to look beyond what man has written and find faith in yourself and believe that you serve some purpose beyond what your mother told you you were to serve. You could pimp your own philosophy and webevangelize some serious and deep shit. You could invoke thought about selective programming and how it affects beliefs and make others ask about what was pumped into their heads as children and how it manifests itself in their adult now, but that would be too much work. Your shit is way too complicated to be telling anyone else about what to believe in.

Most of the damn time you have difficulty believing in yourself.

How in the hell do you think you have the time and effort to prove to yourself that anything other than your miserable existence exists among everyone else's shit? The whole universe moves around you and can without you. What do you have to contribute beyond what anyone else already has? Sometimes faith in something else, something to lean on is the distraction we need to get through the terrible shit, and organized religion and all that comes with it has been the terrible constant in your life and your family exists right smack dab in the middle of what you don't believe. That's why I got the weekends you fucker, I ask the relevant questions.

Enjoy your weekend, you faithless bastid.

Seeing right through you as usual,

RE: Konichiwa

Furious,

I'm not mad that in an effort to rid myself of creative stickiness that I've decided to pit the two most powerful aspects of myself against each other in what would probably be a simple decision for most normal folk. I am not normal by any stretch of the imagination, so the public display of noise going on in my head for the world to see continues...

I appreciate you. I know that I don't have to wait on you to take what I am sometimes afraid to grab so I call on you to be the aggressive cat that makes the world afraid. They know you exist. I acknowledge your strengths to continue to balance things, but I must debate the fact that I am making the wrong move. All I'm trying to do is make things right for us. I know you don't want to be in Houston, but you gotta admit, it's been 85 degrees here since late February. Remember getting off that plane back in March in the Chi? You were all good until you got out to hail that cab. The 'Hawk' damn near ran you back to Georgia, didn't it?

The warm gulf weather ran the pneumonia out of us. The quiet, tree lined streets and the breeze has lulled you to sleep since arriving. Traffic is shit, but things are calm and easy here. Not like the hectic hustle and bustle Chicago has 24/7. And remember, this is not Chicago. There is so much I know you probably miss but there was a reason we left. Remember why we left.

Don't forget.

Some things are too much for your heart to endure.

The number of folks and the situations that involve them in the city of Chicago that bring tears to your eyes is a small one, but it only takes is a few. In order to accept the fact that you lived in the midst of dysfunction you have to admit that you are dysfunctional and know that you are a product of its environment, then you must remove yourself from it and start anew outside of it. You have abused yourself in so many ways trying to cope with having to live with things that would have ran some into those deep recesses you mentioned in your letter yesterday. It's time to preform the actions that'll heal you and help you move forward. That means that you have to let certain people, places and things go, and I know that probably makes you lash out. All I can say about the abrasiveness is the same things I say when counseling folks about internal cleanse. You will feel toxic for a moment because is must pass thru and be absorbed before it is released by the body.

Life ain't gravy here. Texas is a difficult place for a black man, and not being native of culture and customs makes things that much more difficult. All I ask is for enough time to heal, stack a bit of paper and get my head and my pocketbook right. The writer's block will end. The performance anxiety will end as well. The book will get get published dude, I swear. We already have record dates and flight info to complete the project with MorninMan, it's just a matter of getting there one day at a time. I am not giving up my dream, I just need a moment to set things straight and get back to optimal performance physically and mentally. We will get back on the road and hustle CDs, hit impromptu joints and perform and fellowship like we did last summer, trust me. I miss being out there as well.

We'll get there. It's just taking a little longer than I expected it would. Not that I thought it could happen in a day or from a different location...

We must find out who we really are by accomplishing things we did not know we were capable of. Taking this job and being still for a moment in Houston is what must happen right now. But this is only right now. Imagine what could happen later. Today first.

A rose can't bloom before its time
It will never bloom if the sun don't shine
So live your life, No need to hide
What's inside, cause that ain't right
You'll see what's true
Who's meant for you
Loves you for you

Stop playing games

Now you might lose a friend or two
But if you do, were they there for you?
You need to see
Open your eyes

and realize

That you're worth more
So, so much more
So, so much more
Eric Roberson



Brother, I got you.

Hassan
The Brown Blogger

The Getback Letter To Hassan...

Dear Hassan,

You are a fool ass, double fucked, bitch-assed new fool if you think I play the background to anyone, especially you. It is me you call when you need some dirt done, it was just in this blogging instance that I got some shine doing what I do and you didn't like it cause' you weren't in control. I don't appreciate being thrown under the bus cause you wanna live your shit like smooth jazz. Life like a Boney James record is some boring shit, let's put a little Primo up in there with a touch of Old Dirt Dog.

Shame on a nuh that try to run game on a nuh... I'll fuck your ass up!


It's me that comes thru and regulates shit when you can't say no. Its my stanking ass that rides out and indicates when shit is all fucked up and you know what you lil' sensitive ass fuck? I'll do that now:

You know you don't want that corporate gig.
Your ass needs to be in the rig, cruising the highways and shit being your own boss. Your paranoid ass just jumped at this shit because it's taking a while for your physical to go thru. So what fucker, you failed the first one and need to do a re-take. Wait a minute, feel these excersizes I got for that chunky ass of yours and get back on the truck. You's a dumb ass if you go back in there and ride that desk for less money. Fuck that contract shit, lets ride the interstate homey!

You hate Houston.
This city just ain't treating you right, now is it? Hell fucking naw! If it wasn't for the 3 friggin people you know your ass would have been in Atlanta last year. I understand that you came here to make things right and get well, but it's time to hit the bricks and leave grill-city for that 4 bedroom, 2 and a half bath joint in ColliPark for $141k. You from the streets kid! You need some big city loving. Get that ass back to a spot where shit is poppin' off and you can rock the mic on the regular. Remember your book, spoken word and music? Remember DJ MorninMan and WareWolf? That neegra live in Spaghetti Junction, how in the fuck are you going to record from her wardie? Think, my nukah. Think.

You belong on the fucking road, dude.
Four figures a week? No rent? Banking that shit for at least a year? Africa? Weekend travel dates? A 100% VA home loan for the 2008 with all that loot saved up? Freedom of being your own boss? My nukah, this shit is as no brain as it can get up in here. Get that ass back on the truck, save for the Motherland and your new home and visit who you need to visit with loot to spare. banking $3k a month or more is the shit in my book.

See, I'm supposed to be aggressive. I'm supposed to be the voice of reason, ready to bitch slap your crank ass when you ain't making sense. Right now, that ass is wrong. How you gon' ban my ass when I speak for you and your best interests? You's a bitch, that's why. You acting like you have no spine. Mark my words, that ass is going to be miserable a month from now. Drudging thru Houston going to work for a bunch of fuckers that ain't paying you your worth, and we needs some shit! I know there are folks that want you here and I know that you owe people big time for looking out but there is a compromise. Giving up your dreams for a desk, limited web access and a phone is the biggest bitch move you can make.

And I'm going to stop that ass. Even if I have to take your blog.

I got this shit you weak minded ass bastid. Get that ass back in the the deep recesses and let me drive before you fuck things up fo sho. The take over continues, bitches!


Konichiwa with your bitch ass,

An Open Letter To Furious Styles

Fear Furious,

You made a mess of things.

It's good to be back up in here albeit early, but when I logged on and saw the tonka truck colors I had to step in and take the blog back. I promise to not let alter egos get in and get out all willy nilly. And to think, I was going to let you blog for the whole week while I negotiated my new employment situation. Wow is all I got right now. "Konichiwa bitches?" Not a good idea to hand it off to you, huh?.

In the time I was out working on a permanent template for BrownBloggers, meeting potential employers and enhancing my calm and thangs, I was considering selling out. A little. I've been weighing out whether I should become a corporate whore which would stifle my creativity and give me back that 'boxed in' feeling I had when I was a cubicle junkie back a year and some change ago.

But then I read my hijacked blog and wondered where things went internally to make you jerk out like that and I wondered...

Would I blow up like that on a co-worker?

I figure that since you are the aggressive personality I shelved some time ago while searching for my true purpose that going back into corporate America would bring you out and get me fired or even better, sent to jail for felonious assault.

I have to re-shelve you for the time being so I can take this job and make things right. For the moment.

Although I don't want to go back to corporate and be a desk hockey I have to have you realize that I am currently living in a financial deficit and I need the boost that this job will give me. If I am not totally ready to get back on the road due to health, then this offer from the mega-giant, Texas oil monopoly will have to suffice until my blood pressure and heart rate is normal enough to get back to over the road status.

In other words. I have to do the dance and I need my rational personality running thangs until I can properly regulate my health. You have made me manic and have my stress levels out of control and I cannot qualify to drive the big rigs if I am stressed to the point where we're making the BP machine explode. And further more, little sis was right. With you as dominant personality I am more of a stroke and heart attack victim now more than ever.

And your workouts put blisters on my feet from running in the pool without aqua socks.

So until further notice and unless you're needed you are officially back in the recesses of my mind and will not touch the layout settings or anything else related to my blog or my life. Let me work this corporate gig until I am healthy enough to get back on the road, okay?

I'd appreciate that.

And quit playing with my background colors like that. I like my black template. Hulkamania this is not.

Sincerely,

Hassan O. Ntimbanjayo
The Brown Blogger

To The White Meat

I'm am not hating on TV.

But I am hating on that new poli-sci talk show spin shit that has seemed to take over basic cable. You see, when I'm not working on my pimp hand, smacking digital farts and blips all over Southwest Houston hustling for that paper so I can buy a few shorties some dranks during happy hour at the trap in the middle of the week or practicing my krumping, I gets my chill on trying to find out who's tryna shut down the streets and cancel out my club banga joints via divestment by scoping out a little MSNBC and Fox News Channel. Friends close, enemies closer, right?

I mean, what's a thuggalectual to do?

So after watching some of that boolshit, noticing that my phone didn't ring from these cable newsjoint hustlas offering me a little pimping as a talking head, in the spirit of straight hateration because game supposedly recognizes game I decided to hand out some virtual bitch slaps of my own to a couple of cats that straight wasted my time. I probably missed out on some foreign tourists bankrolling a hotel party on a bootleg handbag hustle or something. You know how them ghetto bourgeois negroes love to keep the tag on fake shit just to show the next African that they were able to buy some shit.

My first ever DigiBitchSlap goes out to Bernard McGuirk, who finally decided to come out of his stank-ass cubby hole to accuse the Rev Al Sharpton for 'helping' him lose his job.

McGuirk called Sharpton a "crude ... opportunist, a race-baiter" who campaigned against Imus to help his own career and raise his profile. While McGuirk acknowledged that "these words did hurt these girls," he added, "until you, Reverend Al, got involved, they probably never would have heard of it. They would have probably never, quote unquote, got scarred for life until you got involved for your own self-serving interests."

You opportunist grill wanting, platinum blood diamond iced chain company investing, jewelery wearing wannabe, fried-chicken-and-biscuit recipe coveting, monkey, ape, baboon name calling for lack of better verbiage, wishing you had big thighs for fast-running and three hundred sixty degree basketball dunking tan getting ass bastard bitch of a man. You make it hard for regular folk to take caucasian cats in those type of power roles seriously. You have a rich culture, a decent education and make work and take pleasure in making others that aren't in your demographic look to be less than where you claim to be with all of your former bandwidth and radio airtime, influencing your fans with racist bullshit and repelling the ears of my people for the past few decades. You had the perfect platform and got that ass fired over 22 minutes of a over glorified nigger joke and have the mitigated gall to blame your understanding of what to say over compensated airwaves on Hip Hop culture and your unassumed responsibility on Al friggin' Sharpton.

I heard the shit y'all smeared the day Ed Bradley died. So did a lot of us. Some of us, Charles S. Dutton included have our ears to the streets. Your ass is being tracked. Your next job will be working to balance that bigoted ass on more eggshells than a hen house on a million acre farm.

Smart fucker you are. I'm glad you don't practice law, there'd be a lot of inmates yearning for you to commit a crime and get caught so you can drop the soap. You're lucky this shit didn't go down in the gulliest of the gully. I hope to see you in these streets one day so I can nose up to your punk ass and tell you that you can't match me cause my style is impetuous, my defense is impregnable and shit, I'm just ferocious, I want your heart, I wanna eat your children! Straight Tyson shit.

And then, I'll bitch slap your greasy crank ass to hell. In front of your kids. Who's the 'ho' now?

Unemployed fucker.





My second fingertip crack to the tip of the lip is to the Rev. Al Sharpton himself. I am appreciative to you for all that you have done for the struggle, but at times I wanna get all Alonzo on that ultra permed ass and call you a disloyal, fool-ass, bitch made neegra for giving into some race-baiting, made for television bullshit. You even argued the fact that there was money to be made in a forum like that when H&C urged you to shut the fuck up so they can go to commercial and begin the next segment as 'round 3'. Why in the fuck did you even show up to that shit? All money ain't good money your holiness.

Dammit Rev, what would James Brown do?

Probably prevent you from getting over to the Fox studios by busting your head to the white meat with the heel of his Stacy Adams sliders. I know I would. Take this open-hand bitch slap to the mouth like a man, reload and get that ass back on the front lines and get to some real shit like we need you to be on. Fuck this TV shit and use that law degree and your income potential to get some test scores up by putting competent teachers that give a damn and a few extra computers in classrooms. Plus, I know a couple of my nephews and nieces out there on straggler patrol that need book money for next semester. Purchase some stock in a few media companies like you said you would do and get back to that late sixties shit and influence a few cats to make a record where my sisters ain't gotta pop, lock and drop it to get brother's attention.

Luckily my pimp hand is mighty strong mon, my shits would be hurting with all of these repeated slaps and thangs. Making me mess up my manicure, but no ting. Me lick a shot for dem who fear the real speak with no remorse.

Nuff said

KONICHIWA BITCHES!!!

Greetings readership...

If you haven't noticed thangs as different around here then I'll take the time to explain...

IT'S A TAKEOVER BITCHES!!!I'm snatching the blog from dude's old stanking ass cause all of this self reflecting bullshit ain't happening over here. If you need to read journals of this cat and his sucka-punk, crybaby, lost, trying to find oneself stories of self awareness and shit then take that ass over to that BrownBlogger joint.Go the fuck over there if you feel the need to be communal...

I got shit locked over here for the moment while Hassan is working over there. Now that I got the mic, we gon' talk about some gangster shit. And by the way, allow me to introduce myself...

My name is Furious

Reminds me of this one time in Seoul where some redneck cats decided to have a few drinks in the Trap right outside of Youngsan on Hip Hop night. What the fuck was they up in there for anyway? Conway Twitty can't rap! I hate the fact that that one quiet dude got busted upside the head while he was trying to break shit up, but I had a firm grip on a wooden chair and one chance to get myself a piece before the MPs came... Chopped his ass down like a lumberjack working a tall pine.

Innocent fucker.

I wonder if he remembers that shit anyway? Whatever... Where's my screwdriver?

I was going to post something this morning and then I remembered that I had to be at the pool. I went earlier and I'm going back now after a hot soak and rubdown. I'm very sore after switching my cardio and resistance workouts to the pool.

Challenging to say the least.

But I love the water and the sun, so scuse' me... I got some training to do. And then I'm off to hike a trail at Memorial Park. Remind me to bring the deep woods OFF! so I'll live beyond the malaria scare.


The rest of you should get outside too.

Looking At Relationships... Seriously

I am at a crossroads as to whether I can actually be in a healthy relationship at this point in my life. I have to be open and honest with how I feel about trying to share myself with someone even though I'm still trying to find out who I am and what my purpose on this plane of existence really is. I sit up all night thinking about who I am and where exactly I'm supposed to be and how is affects folks in the positive or negative and I can't figure that shit out for anything right now. My mind is so clouded right now and I can't seem to clear it out and focus on one thing. I really need to think about where I am with relationships right now because it's of utmost importance that I find where I'm supposed to be. I owe it to myself and others to know where I'm supposed to be.

Right now I'm in my weakest moment physically, emotionally and mentally, realizing that there are parts of me that will never recover from my most recent injuries, the damage that having diabetes has caused over the past ten years and of course all the stupid stuff I indulged in as a younger man, that stuff being eating, contact sports, blue collar work and of course alcohol, and not in that particular order. It indeed takes a toll. I accepted that I'll need to medicate, meditate and moderate in order to be some of the things my woman needs me to be. I realize that I'll also have to stand still and plant roots somewhere because most sisters need her man to be an anchor so things can get done. I also realize that my earning potential is under scrutiny and being 36... Shit, I better sell a few books and CDs because me jumping into a retirement plan ain't the answer.

Time for that side hustle.

I stopped running from my relationship problems a long time ago. I did try to hide my shit in an attempt to be function like normal folk so I can have what other people have. Not that I hid my emotions to that particular sister, in fact I think I've been a little too forthcoming with em'. I tried to be there for all of life's ups and downs while handling my own shit internally. Some of that major stuff I shared as to not come off as distant and non trustworthy.

That shit didn't work.

Either I pushed folks away or got smoked out in some aspect by folks that obviously didn't want anything to do with a dysfunctional cat such as myself. The painful part is how folks pull out on your ass when things starts getting hot. I got my head spun a couple of times and it changed the way I interact with folks seeming to be sincere with their actions and panning for my affection.

So much for folks accepting you for who you are. That shit about folks being accepting to gain one's favor and build on trust over time is soooo damn false.

"Fell in love with this fish who got caught in my mesh
But yo she burned my scene up like David Koresh
I guess a diamond ain't nothing but a rock with a name
I guess love ain't nuttin but emotion and game
It's a lesson well learned so praise is well due..."

Dave of De La Soul - Itzoweezee

"There was a lovely lady who's intent I thought I had on Rosa Parks
But her ex came to town and took back her heart
And she left me standing silly in the dark with a mic
Caught up in expressions
and learning lessons of depression
Sometimes it seems I can't connect with female beings
To my little Aya-Mo when she having them dreams
And her facial gleams are sweet, but soon to switch to bitter
cause when she reaches sixteen she'll be considered a piece of meat
Not a treat but a trick to sex in showers
People kick last days, we in the last hours
Minutes and seconds, I reckon it won't be long
til recorded ways of striving will be dead and gone
But this loss coming through despite who try to see me
These brothers are too hard, sisters are too easy
Sleazy..."

Posdnous of De La Soul - Stakes Is High (remix)

So these days I try to keep my shit guarded like them shiny coins stowed away at Fort Knox. I blame myself for kinda' knowing in advance that I'll get burned in the long run and I kick myself for putting myself right back into the same pot of boiling bullshit I just stepped out of. But for some strange reason I keep trying. I keep wanting to go there because I know that I can be accepted for who I am and not looked at as a commodity or better yet, a shield and storage facility for someone else's emotional garbage with them not wanting to sift thru it themselves while not letting me sift thru mine.

I hold out hope that I'll run into someone that'll put up with my ass and find a way to intertwine my levels of dysfunction with hers. The thing is, I kinda like living nomad style, so being in one place just doesn't do it for me. I have to travel and be in new places, do new stuff. Interact with new(er) folks. You know, out there fellowshipping. Not that I'm running from anything, I just like all of the moving around I do and to find someone that likes to move with you is damn near impossible.

So I noticed that a brother that likes to bounce around the planet, doesn't want children, looks at marriage as a major cause of dysfunction in today's society and likes to keep himself guarded isn't so sought after, but I still hold out hope. All I gotta do when I find her is see if I can really extend my trust in her direction. That's the hard part. It seems like every time I wanna give up the combination to the safe something is either said or done that makes me retreat and raises my eyebrow in suspicion and lowers my expectations in frustration.

But there are some signs out here that make me think.

I hear every single one of y'all. I am appreciative of your concern and words. I'm most appreciative that y'all stumbled thru my ramblings and such and read all of that stuff, that's major. We'll make it thru. We have no choice now do we? I hope to somehow shake a hand or give a hug to every one of y'all someday. I knew I wasn't alone... Knowing that makes me chuckle... Just a little.

Heh, I just chuckled.

It Ain't Easy

Dealing with myself is not an easy thing.

For some that have read my blog before, it's just one big sigh reading this. For others that have just come over to visit and have just had their literal neck snapped, well... I'm damn near 40 years old and am still trying to deal with me. It ain't as easy as I expected it to be me supposedly being so talented and gifted, being given all of this opportunity to travel and see things when others have the hardest time making time to get over to the Wal-Mart because of family and work constraints.

I agree that I have it good in a sense being single and childless and not affecting anyone else with whatever it is I have. That my depression and anger hasn't impacted my spouse, child or co-worker to the point that either them or I aren't heavily medicated and under a doctor's care or as a part of some university research program experiencing those side effects we hear that monotone-voiced guy on the prescription commercials talking about.

This is my therapy and I'm trying not to medicate so I use this forum because it's free and folks really do listen. Or at least I think they do.

Sometimes.

I do want to clarify a few things some picked up on in my last post:

• I am not drinking my problems away. I don't like being drunk, so I keep my distance from the sauce. I've had my share of beer in the past month so... Yes I drink, but no I don't get drunk. So there.
• I am not eating either. I've dropped 7 pounds since last Tuesday.
• I wish I had the answers as to why I feel like I can't grow close to certain folks. The fact that I was touched as a child doesn't affect me like back in the day. I still feel like I need longer periods of time to trust folks close to me. I'm working on lowering my defenses so I can let folks in. It takes time for me to get comfy with folks.
• I haven't had a relationship where I felt like settling down since late 2005. I have been involved, but not on the level I was back then. There were things I did to raise suspicions in the eyes of that sister (and I think she got out because I was battling a bout of depression then), but I was still let down because she literally disappeared and no dialogue was had between her and I so no immediate closure was had and I assumed that things were over after a few days to a week of no contact. I'm trying to work to get to where I can trust a sister to the point where I can feel comfortable with 'we' which hasn't happened as of yet.
• The writing thing (or lack thereof) has me reeling for a new release date for my project. Sucks monkey ass. Nuff' said.

I wish I could get past my deficiencies to the point where I can function like a normal human, but I am just as regular as the rest of you. I have issues and I am working towards being as normal as I feel I can be. My support system is somewhat functional, and I do have you guys so I feel like I can be at my best in due time. I am working through the diabetes thing the best I know how (with medical help and research) and I know that what I'm going thru is a part of me having what I have, so I adjust and try to keep it moving the best I can.

I will keep going, trust me, but there are times where I feel like there is no hope.

I know that there is, but hope has a point of overlooking me most times. Or at least I feel that way. That's when I cry out and try to get as much help as I can. I feel the need to move around and keep the blood flowing because I feel like if I stand still and wait for something good to happen I will surely die in that process. I've already proved to myself on Thanksgiving day 05' that I'm too much of a punk to check out voluntarily... So I live, and sometimes living is so fucked up for me.

Like now.

My financial problems stem from me begging for money via trying to write grant proposals for BrownBloggers. I suck at this and I'm doing it by myself, but I'm supposed to get help once school lets out. Then I'll have assistance from a few folks that have done this before. I am on the fence with my decision on being site administrator and running BrownBloggers and have found a few people that would love to have that job if I leave the fold, but I must help it develop it somehow cause' it's my baby.

I also called my guy at the trucking company and will be going back on the road with my rig in a few weeks. Maybe that's what I need. Me, myself and I rolling all over via the place seeing the countryside, snapping pictures and blogging from out there somewhere.

I can do that and feel free. I have done that and felt very much like my freedom papers meant something. Maybe out there I can ease my mind and brush some of the burdens of life off my back and let the past go. Time will tell, wont it?

The thought of being free always seems to enhance my calm.

I'm Being Lied To

It's one thing to be told something in an attempt to protect you from yourself. You know, things said to you so your feelings won't get hurt. Having a handful of inconvenient truths. Best to be knee deep and happy in ones ignorance sometimes, right? There is another thing to be straight lied to. There is also the truth as well. Most of the time, the truth works for me, but sometimes you have to balance them both in order to function properly.

But what happens when you're not functioning at optimal performance?

I must confess, I am not at my best right now. I've tried to put myself into developing BrownBloggers to take my mind away from dealing with me getting back on track health wise and also with my finances. It's not helping, but I keep pushing on. For the first time in my life I'm suffering from pre-hypertension, and that's with my blood sugars being under control. Usually with uncontrolled diabetes one can really get in a bind with blood pressure. My blood sugars are in control and on point (no ketones either), but I guess with me coming off of a major injury and going thru rehab for it and making yet another career change (based on that injury) as well as relocating cross-country to where I only know a few people, that can take a toll.

I also lost contact with a handful of people that I used to rock out with before coming to Texas. That sucks monkey ass. Let's just say I gave up being with family and friends to be here and maybe I should have though long and hard before making a decision to relocate. I mean I have a support system here, but I read people well and already know that hands are on the rug, waiting to give it a nice tug if you know what I mean.

I also have recently come to terms with myself. Here are some of my truths:

• I realize that I stay up all night because there's not enough alcohol and pain relievers to stop my joints from aching while I lay still so I try to keep moving around doing stuff. It keeps me busy enough to not deal with the pain most times
  
• I know that I bury myself in busywork to take my mind off of the fact that I'm not where I want to be in life so I keep trying to do the things to get me there even if it means sacrificing those moments in which I should stop and smell roses and stuff. If I focus on anything else other than being free I'd probably self destruct
  
• I know why I haven't spoken to my mother since August. We don't like each other and have expressed that in person over the years. Our feelings haven't changed and probably won't anytime soon so I respect her enough to keep my distance and not rattle my sibs. I do speak with them from time to time and right now they have no issue with us
  
• I have accepted that I was molested as a child and I watched the adults around me and the church cover it up to protect the person that did it instead of protecting me and the other kids. On one hand (in a sick, disgusting way) I understand why that was done. The other knows that not protecting your children is the most unforgivable thing. Churches yield money and power for the ones that benefit from administering it. Selfish bastards chose that path instead of family. It has definitely affected how I think of trust and relationships as an adult and how sex comes into play. It doesn't.
  
• I remember drinking at least a half gallon of liquor every other day overseas while in the Army in an attempt to cope with depression and anger. I replaced that with food when I got home and now 15 years after the military I've replace those things with writing and composing as a form of control. Thing is, I've had extreme writer's block since December and that piece below is the first thing I wrote since
• I'm losing a battle (not the war) with diabetes and the next 36-plus years are going to be damned difficult to say the least. My leg circulation is poor and it's starting to make regular things like walking and standing difficult sometimes. I'm doing what I can to make myself comfortable but most of the time the comfort aspect is a short lived thing. No one outside of this disease can understand the amount of discomfort and pain a diabetic person goes thru even when sugars are controlled. No one.
  
• I never feel like I have anything to give to anyone emotionally. A close friend always tells me "Know that you are loved". I don't think I know exactly what that feels like because it's been so foreign to me. I've always been an object to people. As a kid I was the golden goose, just smart enough to get my family out of the ghetto. As an adult I am supposedly a human quote machine, capable of composing song and/or verse for the bewilderment and amusement of others. Other than that, I see no real value that I have to other people, so I act accordingly. Oops, I probably just bit the proverbial hand seeing as all I do is offend and frustrate most of the time
• I confused as to where to turn to. Drinking is too easy and plus I no longer like being drunk. Destroying things (and people) will put me in jail and as far as writing goes, the words aren't coming anymore. I wish I could just find that place to just release everything and start anew, but I'm starting to believe that such a place does not exist. I'm getting angrier and angrier with myself and I hate the fact that I don't know what comes next
• I'm currently being accused of cavorting with the enemy if you will. From the inside. Now that I'm being accused I wish that I was because that would mean that I'd be actually experiencing enjoyment in some way, shape or form. I've always been open and honest with myself with all comers. Hell, even with me blogging all you need to know about Hassan is right here in some way shape or form so imagine if I knew you. Now imagine being accused of that shit by the closest person to you. Riiiiiight. I've been trying to keep in contact with who I can since my move and it has been difficult me being where I am and with my new setup communications wise, but it's hard when simple IM conversations are either misinterpreted or flat out untrue accusations are being made about you and who you contact. Hell, the offer is on the table for me to open my chat archives to clear my name. I'll even publish the shits (minus the names) on this very blog, but what good will that do other than clear the drama? What fun would that be? Being accused of sleeping with the enemy in in my own fort goes against everything I believe. Plus, that'll make me stupid... And a liar. And a cheat. The only thing I literally have in this world is my word. If that means nothing to those I trust then I am nothing to them.
  

Funny, my so-called birthday recently passed and I dreamt that I had a party that day and my wish was for me to die in my sleep. I got my wish and died peacefully with a smile on my face. The moment before I passed, all of the pain and angst flowed from my fingers and toes to the edges of the universe and I danced in my mind before signing off. That was the happiest thought I've had in some time now. The thought followed me for a week or so and I realized that the thought only manifested itself because of my current situation. The reason I left Chicago is because I thought I'd be better off somewhere else. Well, I'm somewhere else now and I wish that I knew where the real somewhere else was, cause I don't fit in here and it's starting to show. I just wish the I didn't have to be lied to because that doesn't make me feel any better. It just grows my anger inside and fuels so many other things things in a negative sense.

I'm slipping, y'all. I need help getting up.

Reason

I am not promised tomorrow
But I live
frantically searching for that spot

the one I'll never find,
but I still look
I'll never fully understand as to why.

At times I can't breathe,
reaching... grasping
Being able to see it and not having it
ain't enough

Living without it makes it not worth effort
most times
but the voices tell me specifically
It must flow through me

It slips, so I slip with it
I slide
I'm slipping

That means that I've already fallen
The faint shouts heard
somewhere in the deep recesses
tells me to pull it up

pay it forward
reload
come again

It's supposed to hurt anyway
play through the pain because

because...

There is a purpose
even in your exposure and eventual demise
so just do.

So I pull at my spirit
Become its motivational speaker
finding fodder to harp on
keeping me interested in me

my destruction is spare objects
meant for the next cycle
It's harder than I thought
But I still try

Happiness for me now comes in that effort
new values are found in disappointment
failure and the excitable sound of the crash

At least it causes gaper's delay

Damn... I made em' stop and look
That's enough I guess

2007 Hassan Ntimbanjayo, Ya Dig?

Market For Niggas

By popular request: Taalam Acey

Thanks Yazmar

Talk amongst yourselves...

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.