keeping up with jones

i've had this strange relationship with life for the last 25+ years & we're finally coming to an understanding. i keep the bullshxt out of her way & she keeps her bullshxt to a minimum. and i'm fine with that.

fact: diagnosed with ataraxia in 2003. (google)

the me i am not is the best me i can be. right? yes. and yesterday i had an epiphany (is that the word i'm looking for? yeah, why not) about friendship - and it went something like: we need to learn the character of our friends - that way their actions and thoughts never surprise or disappoint us - unless they step outside of that character

that make sense?
"i play dumb, homie. but never been a fool." - plies.

so - those who keep up with jones know that my birthday was two days ago. and what a great day that way.
the last few hours of the 16th found me in a mexican restaurant drinking pitchers of margaritas and talking to tyleesa(our waitress from the bronx) about what hood name she'd be giving her baby. don't worry, i tipped her well for the insults.

the 17th (actual birthday) i found myself country hopping - chasing the sun west to gain three extra hours of celebration. and i finally landed in los angeles. i was nervous for a second because it seemed the land of beautiful people had become the land of muffin tops & too-small shirts. but beyond the airport - everything seemed to work out.

and after the $.25cent wings and rum buckets at big wangs & the 10oz prime rib, british pudding, mashed potatoes and gravy and creme brulee at lawry's steak house - i decided to make the rest of black history month my birthday. so i cruised through beverly hills, spoke to a few models who remembered my name from my last stint here & decided to get in touch with all the old gang.

my days and nights look like brunches - lunches and lounges.
although life moves slow here - it's kinda close to COOL.






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real quick: i just wanna say GOOD MORNING/AFTERNOON to the 3 people who are determined to make it when the millions before them didn't.

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and yesterday I got a great haircut that i paid $30 for. and it would have been worth it had he actually cut a lot off. he only lined me up and talked about the basketball game. but it's cool. i mean - i look good.
well, in real life i could grow a wolfman and wear a trash bag and still look good - but this haircut did something for me.

a haircut can take a man's self esteem from 1 to 12 in 35 minutes.

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does the need for HBCU's still exist?
being a graduate of the ONLY HBCU founded by a black woman - it saddens me to say the need doesn't exist.
however, i deeply believe the purpose does, therefore i push for them. i would love to sit and discuss this with both sides.

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side note: hate is not the opposite of love. indifference is.

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and right now, it's 11:00am and I'm sitting on the couch, listening to the construction taking place in the world outside this window & thinking about hitting the gym.


and i know you love reading my blog and shxt but i feel i must bring it to an end. okay? that cool? cool!
but how should i end this.

oh wait:

happy birthday to nancy smiziff (@sunyblack) - with her old, punk a**. (i can say that, you cannot)

now i can end this and get this day started.

follow me on twitter so you can keep up with my life: @skinnyjeanius

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damn - before i pressed 'publish now' to publish the blog, @jefro5 hit me up and asked if i wanted to go to denny's. so of course i went. and i'm not sure if i blogged about it or not - but i was supposed to be giving up beef for good. but damnit, the last few weeks have served me so much steak - and i just got in from denny's and i had the tbone and egg meal.

"t-bone steak - cheese eggs & welch's grape" - biggie.

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side note: i need tickets to the image awards and oscar after party invitations NOW.
if you have some - or wanna get on the grind with me to search for them, get at me asap.

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so i end this blog with this:

"If there is no struggle there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom and yet deprecate agitation are men who want crops without plowing up the ground; they want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters.
This struggle may be a moral one, or it may be a physical one, and it may be both moral and physical, but it must be a struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. Find out just what any people will quietly submit to and you have found out the exact measure of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them, and these will continue till they are resisted with either words or blows, or with both. The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress." - frederick douglass (1857)

if my friends all live 100 more years - then let me live only 100 years minus one day - so i will not have to suffer too long without them.

happy birthday me

and i decided to write this blog while drunk. i spent the last few hours in a mexican spot with some of the greatest people in the world.
i know - i know: it is my birthday but i just wanna say in my drunk voice: i fxcking love my friends.
we laughed at the bullshit & the past and ordered more shots and more drinks.

and it's hard to believe that 20-something years ago i came forth and declared this day my own.
well...my own & huey newton's & michael jordan & the little girl (troy) from crooklyn.

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sidenote: evan bayh thinks he's slick. i'm pretty sure he's retiring from the senate & will run from president in 2012.
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i fxcking love jovie blaylock for being the first one to call me on february 17, 2010 to tell me happy birthday

why do my abs look like this? apparently because i've been neglecting them in bally total fitness - but i will get it together. i promise, abs. i got you.

and i'm fxcking wasted on margaritas and washington apple shots. reminds me of seattle with dom & reka & serita & clarise & donte & sometime bobby. good times, i tell ya. one day we'll all meet back up and drink and laugh. in the meantime we'll succeed and whatever the fxck it is we're doing.
and it would be perfect to wake up to my grandma rene's fried potatoes, fried eggs, bacon, biscuits, fried apples & orange juice. and maybe a coffee. instead, though, i'll wake up to 67 text inbox "happy birthday" messages and the dry mouth. i don't mind. i love this life regardless.

and i will gather my thoughts within 5 minutes & then remember that i will spend 7 hours on a flight - end up in los angeles - get picked up by @jefro5 - and head straight to the spot where drinking and laughter will commence. sound good?
fxck yeah.

in real life i'm headed to LA to produce a film & get some networking done during the image and academy awards. this is where i feel important.

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and i'm waiting on the gifts to roll in.
wanna send me something?
click that "donate" button to the top right.
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and my waitress tonight was 7 months pregnant and wanted to tell me about it all.
she's naming the baby iesha or sidney & the father can't decide between her & his ex - but in the meantime he's laid up in her (the waitress) house.

so it's my birthday - and i want to thank my beautiful mother before i thank all those who remember.
thanks MOM for doing what you had to do to get me where i needed to be.
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and i'm in a sentimental mood. i'm realizing i have folks that i've been friends with for more than half my life.
i have dreams to remember (like otis).
i have folksi hope call instead of text and i have smiles that need to get out.

who doesn't want to be happy?
so why aren't you?

LET'S BE HAPPY.

and remember: our deepest fear is...(you know)

side note: i'm drunk - so pay no attention to me making sense.

and on that note - i will allow the drunkenness to get the best of me & eat and maybe pass out on this leather couch.
i love you all.

5 minutes ago i was standing over slow-cooking steaks and fried potatoes and veggies (all cooking) - smiling.
then i became slightly depressed thinking about the one guy i'd walk through hell with without a concern.

and those of you who know me - and those who've been keeping up know that i've spent the last 8 months or so developing emotions. this depression thing being something new.

on this day we should be full of hope & optimism.
full of whatever it is we love most. perhaps love. who really knows.

we write poetry - hit the day spas & ruth's chris's of the city and do it big in our stacy adams and heels. (people still wear stacy adams?)

but see - me line brother lost his girl a few months back.
and without warning or my permission i think i'll think about that every valentines day & every birthday she would have had & every birthday he has. she was a friend and that's some shit you never forget.

so he writes: "I wish i could build a ladder tall enough to come see you. I miss you."

and if i could i'd help him build that latter.
in the meantime, though, i'll call him and see how he's doing.

and on this day - let's love everybody.
tomorrow, we can go back to the hatred.

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and here's something old for you to fall in love to:

i've thought about dropping my bed off at the dumpster and stopping by the consignment shop and picking up the twin size mattress and sitting it on cinder blocks and wooden slats so i could sleep tight this winter - breathing into her neck.

this autumn will not allow that to happen.

this autumn finds me sitting low in crimson, leather seats - eyes slightly above the steering wheel.
fingertips slightly gripping below.
the nights have never been so crisp.
the air has never tasted so welcoming.
it's as though it showered before my arrival.

and she stands there blowing from her lungs what she grew up believing was smoke -
wanting to say to the girl closest to her "i can see my breath."
but they aren't friends.

the starbucks cup and p-coat reminds her that warmth did and does exist.
the sky's attempt at darkness brings her memories of summer sit-downs on park benches and piers after hours of shopping for lip gloss - shoes and scarves for the coming winter.

the scarf around her neck reminds her of his impersonation of her muslim mother who wore scarves to the market because the owner would always comment on her beauty in scarves and give her the discount he saw fit.

she stood there alone.

my lungs inhaled what was left of the cologne sprayed on my white t.
my lungs exhaled the chorus of an old otis redding song:

'i've got dreams to remember'

the cold is here.
she feels it.
i feel it.

i want to sit low beneath goose down comforters with her - eating plantain chips and chocolate chip bread pudding with coconut ice cream - listening to sade depress the shit out of both of us.

i want to frequent malls with her, visiting every store - vowing to never shop with her again - carrying all eight of her bags to the car when it's over.

i want to fall in 'like' this autumn, pushing her down in a pile of leaves - then letter her catch me just to see what her revenge will be.

i want to fall in love this winter watching her read through the newest 'vogue,' and 'elle' while sitting on the counter - heat on 95 degrees, salads on plates, dressing on the side - and neither of us hungry because we've filled up kissing.

this autumn, though, finds me sitting low, in crimson, leather seats watching her waiting for him - not me.
and remembering what i hope is to one day be.

i unlock my door for the woman currently waiting on permit to occupy the right side of my queen.
i exhaled on an old sade joint:

'when i lay eyes on you'