keeping up with jones

fantasy is what people want - but reality is what they need.
i just retired from the fantasy part of it all.

i'm on the road again, headed for the jersey shore i think - hoping these big plans i've drawn out in my head come to fruition.
this trip isn't on of those attempts to escape niggativity.
and by 'nigga' i mean all humanity. everybody.

my mom and the rest of these bus people love madea
so i stuff my ears with lauryn hill singing 'oh jerusalem' loudly
and listening to what she has to say about her pseudo christianity
and bob marley-isms.

but....

i am escaping niggativity.
i dont want to be included with the average human.
look around - what i do is not what average people do.

_____
some day soon i will release god from my box and share him with the rest of the world.
when i feel they are prepared.
until then i say this:

do not speak of the wrong doings of the devil if you have never prayed FOR him.

i used to sit on trains writing about the woman sitting across from me.
i don't know what happened.

education has driven me out of that place, i think.
there is no time to writer about the 'hers' who go home and act like mothers and wives
or the 'he' that rocks out to hip hop on stoops uptown

like the girl i brushed up against on the L to brooklyn:
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she was the tragic mulatto type
stayed clear of mammies coons bucks
and average street niggas
thank god i was neither
her style was classical negro
circa 1943
minnie mouse pumps
hair didn't need to be relaxed - see
she was that dorothy dandridge type cheek
me and mrs jones type shit
so at the height of the night i'd call her carmen
even when cleopatra seemed to fit perfectly
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or the guy across from me with his headphones too loud:
-----
the music in his headphones ain't really that interesting
but all day the stress and strain pulled muscles in his brain
took the jook from his foot
so he could tap them on the train
hoping no one notices
-----

so yeah - i remember being a poet -
i remember writing and reading...

but i call myself something else now
and it's becoming too much sometimes.
i want to be a poet again.

tomorrow morning i will write about you!

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so i have a confession: i should be wearing eye glasses. when i was in the 6th grade, i played baseball. one day at practice i was having problems with coordination, so my mom thought it'd be smart to take me to the eye doctor to see what the deal was.

my vision wasn't perfect. DAMNIT!
so he suggest that i get glasses.
and coming from a work class home, top of the line eye glasses were out of the questions.
and my mom doesn't know much about getting knock offs like 97% of the folks i know today who wear "gucci" or "fendi" shades and try to pass them off as real.

side note: we all know your glasses are really fake. who'd pay $400 for glasses when no one really gives a damn what you wearing to see?

anyway...there was a special for $50.
so of course we got it.

my mom was the kind of mom that would buy something just because it was on sale.
i entered kindergarten in a halter top and bowling shoes.
hahahaha

so...

we got the glasses.
they were the mothereffers that were big, and when i walked into the sun, they tinted.
i was 11!
this was NOT the business.
all of my friends thought it was hilarious.
so one day i left them on the bus. somehow - someway they were returned to me.

so i took them to the park in the projects and i buried them deep beneath the gravel after i broke them.
THE END.

i haven't worn glasses since. but i said i would if i could find the ones i REALLY want.
and I found them!
so i'm ordering them today.

next week, i will be in glasses again, folks.
they require a certain haircut and attire, too.
so gotta change up the appearance.

and hopefully the new body will compliment them too.

i chilled in the gym last night alone - and going again in 52 minutes.
come thru!

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but that's what i have to say about that folks.
but check it:

follow me on twitter (i keep life interesting): @abednego_jones

bye folks

when i was 4 i started cooking my own meals.
my grandmother said that a man should know how to wash his own clothes, cook his own meals, iron and sew.
so she taught me all of it.
i love her for that.

side note: i'm nervous for society. who, besides me, is going to cook when our grandmothers (and some mothers) are no longer around to do it for us?

so tonight i cooked for youknowwho.
cod - sweet potatoes - potatoes - focus hope orange juice (detroit stand up).

and don't look at me strange, folks.
i didn't just cook it and say "bam!"
i actually created marinades and sauces and toppings, and the life.
it was fit for iron chef!

it's what i do.

lesson to learn here: learn to take care of yourself - your mate should be an accessory - not a requirement.
feel me?

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real quick:

on another note - i recently found a 10-year-old cousin whom i've never seen.
no one in the family's ever seen him for what it's worth.
the internet is an amazing tool.
facebook is amazing.

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and i've been in the gym more and more.
today i hit a few new machines.
i was not going to focus so much on my legs, but i didn't want to look too much like an uneven fraction, so i hit that machine as well.

anyone know where i can get some injectable steroids?
hahahaha

so this weekend i'll be in atlantic city - playing the tables with $30 i get just for taking the trip.
come thru if you're gonna be in the area.
let's walk the board walk and talk shxt.

find some cotton candy and candy apples amongst the tables and slots
and just enjoy the life.

i love pretending to be rich.
or at least pretending to pretend.
feel me.
this is where i would wink at you.
WINK!

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and then the famous question came again today:
why are you single?

and my same answer:
because i want to be.

a few female friends of mine constantly complain about their singlehood. they say they're single because men are no good or they can't find a man that can handle the fact that she makes mad money.

eff all that!

i believe in the laws of attraction. when she keeps running into these men who are no good - it's because she's no good. apparently she's frequenting spots where the no good men hang out - and birds of a feather usually flock together.

so they get mad at me when i tell them that either they - or their vagina - ain't shxt.

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and i'll leave you all with this message that i got from my brother @_tonyp:
@_tonyp: You don't get to where ii am by walkin with losers.

and i'm still not able to listen to "one last cry" to the end.
so i substitute the playlist for one with nothing but sade.
and although her shxt is sad - none of those songs tell our story.

and as soon as i hear "it's only love that gets you through" i put it on song repeat for three goes around the merry-go-round - and all is well.

this is that part of life men fear.
i've lost my calf love on some road to fresh sneakers and low caesars.
college found her to be nothing but a memory in old journals and random get-ups over the school vacations.

but you were going to the be that love i married.
when we both seemed to disappear behind state lines and new lives - i moved on.
i found the warm dew of others to be equally comforting and their smiles to be just as bright.

a couple - even more so.

and the distance lessened - and we became too comfortable with the once new lives - and needed reassurance in the front seat of your suv.
i could have married you right there.
the music stopped when your door open and we needed to question what we did.

i'm still muslim.
you're still christian.
i'm not christian.

and i'm left to admit - i've never questioned any of it.
and i still don't want to.
i just want you to shut the door and allow your hands to find the back of my head.
i want out eyelashes to touch.

i just want you to shut the door so the music can play.

and now that i'm looking at the time and this half empty glass of vodka and naked juice i don't know what to tell you.

i just want you to shut the door - and let me explain to you why we don't look like what we've been through - together

and you are never again allowed to say:
"had you asked - i would have come back"
it hurts too much.

FOR THIS I BLAME B.E.T. & TYLER PERRY:


moving on.
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okay so...
i'm in need of more focus. don't get me wrong, i'm as focused as i can be right now - but there needs to be a little more.
so for the remainder of the fall - and maybe well into spring, i will do just that. in turn, much free time will be cut off.

starting next monday my free time will be cut into one hour intervals.
i will spend an hour with whoever requests my time.
otherwise i will be in the lab, making sense of these goals i can't seem to organize or prioritize.

no exceptions, so please do not ask and get your feelings hurt.
besides, i learned a long time ago never to ask questions to which i didn't want to know the answer.

(sigh)

but you are free to come along and do what i do in the lab - as long as you have goals to work on in there as well. the more the merrier.
i love working in groups.
this is my way of making sure everybody stays rich within my cypher. let's build.

so to sum this section up: if you want to see me, bring your work - and let's work. otherwise, submit the hour you want to meet, and we will meet...
unless of course it's business. in which case you get more than an hour.
NO EXCEPTIONS.

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and i just left the gym - feeling good - looking good - but seeing i have a bit of a distance to go. miles to go before i sleep. trying to get on mr. newbold's level. he's my personal trainer. (hit me up if you need a pt).

we got back from detroit @ 12:43pm - and i'm at 212 now making the world spin - preparing for the rest of the day.
getting up with my cousin, brandi - she and i are very much alike. we're both wanderers and dreamers. she graduated from radford and now wandering the earth making life happen!

then party in the name of labor day. although it's really just some bullshxt holiday stolen from canada by some european-american from new york. hahahaha - did ya know that.

anytime the europeans go someplace pre-today they tend to steal shxt.
look at africa, the caribbean, anywhere brown skin people live.
the people of hawaii should be revolting still.

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and then i come across laurie cooper's 'black man in america' a few months ago...
and i shared it on my website - and now i want to share it with you all...
to see what you think...

let's get mad - let's get defensive - let's piss people off!

righteous!

i'm in detroit on a family vacation.
it's been years since we've done one of these, and i'm learning why. instead of jumping on 95 with (youknowwho) and taking the trip south - i come here.
please don't fxck up my thoughts though...i love my family - and i came because my mom asked me to, but the family i have in detroit are the epitome of the phrase: product of environment. i mean, COME THE FXCK ON!
i didn't know that i was capable of having such family members. i guess.
so instead of making it a real family reunion, i stick with my folks (who i rode here with), my one cousin aaron, and my grandmother. we're the only sane ones here.
and detroit is not the best place to congregate.

so i've been writing this film in my head, and last night i finally put it on paper.
it's all about the dynamics between a black man and a jewish man, and trying to level the playing field over a game of chess, and friendly discourse. it's called "the field nigger and the buchenwald jew"
it has to be shot.

i am successful because my thoughts have driven me there, folks.
not because i am lucky. it is the fool that looks at successful people and say "he's lucky."
it is the wise man who look at successful people and say "that's going to be me by new years."
my cousins are products of their environment because they want to be. they live on the planet detroit. there is nothing beyond this place. and now their children say "i'm never leaving this place."
this is why i love my folks so much. because they pushed me to try new things. as much as it hurt my mother that i didn't apply to any college within 200 miles of the house, she still encouraged me, made my bunk bed in lefevre hall and drove the 800 miles back to Va. and now i'm 2 years away from having "dr." on the end of my name - and she's stopped crying when i leave...just ask "when you coming home?"

i guess i've become sam beckett. the quantum leaper. place to place, trying to get back home. i haven't been in 4 months...thank god i don't have the ability to miss people. so it's no big deal. i will probably go next week though.

i say all that to say: i am successful.

i was in new york in my 1979 chrysler new yorker riding down the west side highway, and the sun was setting, and i pulled over in the snow to get a picture because i wanted to share it with (youknowwho).
remember this?

tomorrow i will find myself back in DC.