keeping up with jones

today i was on facebook and my friend @blueJEANbabby posted this photo - and i wanted to share it with you all.

aside from @blueJEANbabby being classically beautiful, she also possesses everything i want my first real wife to have(attitude, hobbies, education & talent), she also captures every about my day in this photo.
(side note: she already knows she'll be training the women i decide to love)

sometimes we all need to ride a bike and just be.
put on some jeans and roll them up past the calves - shrink our white tees in the dryer and wear our favorite pair of blue superman underoos and breeze through traffic with no cares whatsoever.
and live under the clouds and towering manhattan - dc - miami - los angeles buildings in which we have no desire to work.

maybe we can even stop for an italian soda and ice cream on the upper east side - or get some ethiopian or ghanaian in adams morgan.

let's just ride until it gets dark - then race home to catch something on sundance like 'life is hot in crack town.'
you down?

mark twain says: get a bicycle. you won't regret it. if you live.
and i don't regret it at all. & everytime i see an adult peddling a bicycle down the road - i smile - and no longer feel hopeless for the future.

so let's hit the garage and pull out the bicycles and play a good game of tag on bikes
and smile at the sun.

south sudan must have known such sundays.
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my work out:

it's coming along cool.
today i was able to do 100 push ups in a matter of minutes.
and i felt good about that.

next week i'll dedicate 4 days to my abs & p90x.
i'm on a time crunch.

but i think the progress is great thus far.

now hiring:
work out partner(s) in dc.
i work out late at night and some early afternoons.
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headed out to a house party to act as a socialite again. i've found my shades.
life is good again.

"why make it rain? the world needs sun!"

if you follow me on twitter you know exactly how the night went.
it was fresh - live - dope - ill - off the hook - and all the other made up and played out words you can think of.

we did it big - and i didn't even get a drink at the bar.
mainly because i did a whole bottle of cheap vodka by myself in my platonic wife's room prior to going.

shit was crazy.
a few washington wizards came through just to show off their height.
after i signed autographs for them, i ran into big tigger. after the people i stood with laughed at his lameness, we kept the party going...

i wish you folks could have partied with me.

the best of our yesterday will be the worst of our tomorrow.
but lets not think too far.
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i don't know what you do - but we do things:

midnight strikes and it's @labellerochelle 's birthday!


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those of you who know me - even a little - know that friendship means a lot to me.
if i call you a friend - you're a friend.
you're not one of those average mufuxxas that i kick it with from time to time to waste time.

and like my bother 'yayo' said: i didn't get where i am walking with losers.

i've conditioned myself to walk with nothing but success stories and pretty people.
sometime simultaneously.

when i was in high school i hung out with some 'real loser type motherfxckers' (like nas said about shorty on belly).
dudes who thought it looked cool to smoke black and milds for the hell of it.
dudes who made trips to new york with grams in their pockets just to get a few dollars for lunch.

they're all locked up now.
all of them.

i hung with chicks who now drive cabs for other loser type motherfxckers.
chicks who date dudes who knock them up prior to knocking them down.

we all grew up in the same neighborhood.
so what the fxck happened?
'it must be the shoes!'
i've never owned a pair of jordans that i paid full price for. maybe the jordans that came in those fancy boxes on saturday mornings led them down some strange path.

the last time i saw my boy 'Q' was when i was teaching sex education at the local jail in my hometown - after finishing the masters program at bethune-cookman.

i once kicked it on project benches in playgrounds with niggas who called drug dealing a 'hustle.'
niggas who respected the shooter.

now i hang with real hustlers.
folks i run into in the hallways at howard university on their way to class because graduation is coming soon and they know shit is crazy in the real world.

we are never any better than the company we keep.
so i keep company who study hard & work hard & party hard.

i keep people around me like my MCMS folks who are about to graduate and progress because failure is not an option. BECAUSE I SAID SO.
on the planet we kick it on, loiterers get arrested. we must move one.

and i never ride the nuts of anyone - but sometimes people come along that need to be written about.
people like @labellerochelle & @amandasophia & @jefro5 & big dave & kendra p (my platonic wife) & chemia & cierra & don chukie
& everybody else in my mcms family. (if i didn't mention you in my blog - you are still in my heart folks)




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side note: this note is starting to sound like a suicide note or some shit.

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the point though: you don't find success walking with losers.
so i don't.

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and tomorrow i will party with my success stories for old times sake - laugh - pop bottles and make toasts in honor of one of my FRIENDS:



and you are more than welcome to come through.

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and i leave you with this:

'let's dance in style - let's dance for a while
heaven can wait - we're only watching the skies
hoping for the best - but expecting the worst
are you going to drop the bomb or not?

let us die young or live forever
we don't have the power but we never say never

sitting in a sandpit - life is a short trip
the music's for the sad men

forever young - i want to be forever young'

-alphaville.

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'may the best of your todays be the worst of your tomorrows.
but we ain't even thinking that far'

-jay z

i just finished my nightly workout sort of - just 200 more crunches to go.
i was sitting on the inclined press & thinking & listening to lauryn hill
and i decided i didn't want to be a slave any more.

fantasy is what people want - reality is what they need,

the last few years of my life have been kinda complex.
not the cliched bullshxt people are always spitting out like:

"oh my god. my life is so hard. you don't know what i've been through. so-and-so died, and my mom isn't paying for my education, and my dad isn't in my life so i blame him for all my bad relationships."

but the shit that's just ridiculous.
i'm often an asshole. not the kind that does shxt like kanye west, carrying around an ego the size of victoria lake - but the kind that just hates ignorance.
i've called people out for not being able to read properly at 18+ years old. i've laughed at those who expected applause at high school graduations. YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO GRADUATE FROM HIGH SCHOOL - it deserves no true applause.

but in the same breath - i am a people pleaser.
i love to make sure others are happy.
so how the eff does that work?

i'm not really in the business of trying to figure it out - but i am in the business of abolition.
so i'm no longer a slave to that.

i'm done with making others feel good at a sacrifice to self.

so, don't get me wrong: i will make people happy as long as i'm not at stake. feel me?
i won't do it for you if it's going to make me unhappy.
too many times i've found myself in some odd location, upset because i didn't want to be there - but i came because i didn't want to hurt feelings.

won't happen again.
the conversation will go like this:

you: wanna go eat pureed bat nipples with me tomorrow in virginia?
me: no. bye.

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side note: never ask questions you don't want to know the answer to.

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and now to the real deal and a mild confession:

when i was at the great bethune-cookman college i did a few things that my mom would look at me funny for if she found out.
there was this gorgeous girl that every dude was after - and she was only after me.

blah blah blah (this is in place of a real story - a long story)

and we did it.
the camera set up in front of my bed didn't help the situation.
she suggest that we turn it on.
i did.

she suggested positions, and acts, and we did them all.

blah blah blah

one of the bruhs found the tape hidden deep in a chest.

blah blah blah

the tape was sold on the campus for pennies.

so this is my apology to her:

dear blah,
i apologize. i would like to take you to dinner on october 23rd and make it up to you somehow.
you know how to find me if you accept this offer.

me.
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and i will close with this:
the truth is, people would rather be lied to.
the truth shall set you free - but it will fxck you up first.

let's start here:

so kanye wanna get drunk and act like a minstrel - fxcking up taylor swift's moment to shine.
she should have politely grabbed the microphone from him - looked him square in the eyes -and said:

"kanye, how's your mom doing? she alright?"

and then kept on with her speech.
the thing about me is that i have less compassion than the average human.
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and then there's the cheerleader of my dreams that seemed to only date the head of football teams.

i'm a grown man with a crush.
that shxt is hilarious to me - but i definitely like it.
it allows me to hang on to my imagination.

it's funny how the playing field becomes level sometimes.
see...college was a great time in life, and she and i were in different, yet equal, circles.

she was the type of chick every dude wanted, and i was the class clown that always kept her laughing.
that friend role.

you know that role!

i was the guy that would sneak in a joke to her every chance i got.
and she would laugh and we'd chat it up for a second - i'd compliment her curves and dance moves - and every few weeks at the KAPPA party i'd pour her a shot or two when she requested.
it was what it was.

see...
i have this belief that some things should always remain a fantasy.
once that fantasy becomes real, so many things come to an end.
sometimes it can be a great thing - but most times, it ends in FAIL.

the person you build up in your head isn't that same person at all.
in my case: what happens if she's not as cool in real life as she is in my head? what if she's crazy?

now - 5 years later - she's still that cheerleader of my dreams - and i'm still the class clown - and i'm trying to keep her laughing as long as possible.

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was it me, or did beyonce's vagina look a bit under developed last night on the vma's? i know it was hidden behind the thin gold flap, but damn - does it have lips, clit and a face?

i saw nothing.
so i tweet that.

then jill started talking shit about me talking shit about beyonce:
so i was like: don't get mad at me because her pu**y is boring.

and somebody else was like "jay must not be hitting her with the big ego."

and in the end i came to the conclusion that beyonce has that vagina all men hate.
looks a little too bland on the outside - too much space on the inside. the walls are too wide - too big - no curving to our penises (yes i said penises).

(this is the part where all the beyonce fans unite and attempt to attack me while i'm not looking.
come on.)
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so the weekend was well spent.
one of those weekends that seem entirely too long, but not too bad.

atlantic city was definitely NOT the shxt.
i lost the $30 they gave us just for going - brought a funnel cake - and walked the board walk coming to the realization that atlantic city must be the handicapped capital of the world.
everybody there was in a wheelchair, or crutches, walker, cane.

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i was standing in the greyhound station, and this little girl wanted to play the gun game.
which gave cause to the reason i teach my son the things i teach him about the world.

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and i will end with this:
did you know that leeches leave their jaws behine when they bite you?