Yeah, I had some good times this holiday weekend, but sometimes I really wonder about my people. I know it's probably in poor taste to say so, but there are moments when I really hate Black people. What's sad is that usually those moments coincide with moments when I'm trying to have a good time in the midst of a crowd of Black people I don't know. Take for instance two things I did in Brooklyn this weekend: booty bouncin' at 667 and the West Indian Day Parade. There was SO MANY TIMES when I was torn between conclusions of Black beauty and utter Black ignorance. Lots of times we can be so full of shit.
This weekend started on a high note - Carl is in our neck of the woods now, so he and I hung out with Philippe on Saturday. Nothing ceremonious - just hanging out at each other's house, playing with Reason. Then we pushed out into the street - 120th Street to be exact, for their annual block party. We got there at the last act and ran into *shiver!* John, his friend Ethel and her daughter Maya. Now, take a good look at John. Enough said!
Philippe & Carl, in front of Chez Angelou; Maya, Ethel & *shivers!* John
John and I caught up and chatted while they broke the stage down and cleaned up the street. He pointed out the brownstone that Maya Angelou recently bought and informed us that the legendary songwriting duo Nick Ashford and Valerie Simpson recently helped her move in a couple of days ago.
And then John introduced us to Brenda Major, president of the 120th Street Block Association and an amazingly informed but down-to-earth civic leader. She eventually invited us into her BEAUTIFUL home, a brownstone built by the rabbis of turn-of-the-century Jewish Harlem (they also built what is now Mount Olivet Baptist Church). They eventually gave it to her grandmother, who worked as a nanny for them.
Brenda Major shows us her beautiful home
True Harlem Style
We ended up at John's apartment and he introduced us to The Rusty Nail while we watched The Two Towers and clips from the glorified snuff movie Final Destination 2. I wasn't paying too much attention to the movies, though, because that Rusty Nail was going all THROUGH me! Honey! Well, I can't tell y'all too much about that! *LOL!* Suffice it to say that a great time was had by all Saturday evening ...
Hangin' out at John's, you can begin to see the effects of them Rusty Nails ... *LOL!*
Sunday rolls along and there are so many things to do, but I decided to do my hair. Yes, just in case I saw John, who was also getting his hair freshened up. Can't be looking broke down two days in a row, especially not in front of fine-ass men like that - plus Monday was coming. I didn't see him and I also didn't finished my hair on time to go see Jerome Jordan or to see my friend Lorenzo Tyler perform his new song "Spirit Of The Dance" at Together In Spirit, so I headed to Brooklyn - to 667.
DJ Mark Simmons *moan!* on the one-and-twos; me and Chip trying to make the best of it
Now, the last time I went there (about a year ago, during the time I wasn't blogging) I had SUCH a good time. A fucking good time! I danced my ass off and it's truly a rare thing to see me cut up like that! It must be something about that spot; I love how loungey and intimate it is. Kinda raunchy. And I was looking kinda cute, too, with my fresh hair and an old Christian Dior oxford shirt that I cut the sleeves off of. And my friend Mark Simmons *shivers!* was delivering the beats, honey, playing his ass off! Hmph, I see why people get all buck wild and freaky in DJ booths - because of DJs like him! Honey, I cut up for most of the evening ...
... but then I got tired of dancing alone or with women. I wanted to dance with some of those men up in there, up on me - body to body, all over my body. An old acquaintance showed up and sat down near my friend Chip (who was recovering). Now, this old acquaintance - our past is at least 5 years ago. He would tease me and give me coy glances while my friends all told me about his supposedly legendary dick. Nothing ever happened between us (he never initiated anything), and I guess he eventually he lost interest in me. Maybe he was never interested - who knows? Anyhoo, letting all that shit STAY in the past, I go over and ask him to dance. He tells me that he's waiting for someone. I should have said "And?" Damn, now I'm trying to take him from somebody! I just said "Okay." and went on about my business. I think that, coupled with the fact that nobody else wanted to dance with me either, did it and my face was fixed up. Carl showed up and I danced with him for a bit before he got lost in the crowd. Yeah, Old Acquaintance tried to come back and dance with me later (seems like noone wanted to dance with him, either), but I think it was only to get closer to other men who were dancing close by. Whatever, I was already turned off and paid him dust. Eventually, I went and just sat my ass down.
I said to Chip, "You know honey, these niggas ain't shit ..." and he nodded as if to say "Child, who you tellin' ..."
So, I stewed in that for the moment, feeling like I needed an Extreme Makeover, wondering if the guys would want to dance with me if I danced less 'like a girl' (i.e. loose booty motions, twirls, bounces, titty shakes, dips, flailing arms, etc.), but God (whose name I invoke in the spirit of universal understanding) works in mysterious ways. Thank you Mr. Brian Brooks for showing me how to do it! Damn, now HE cut up! Just moving his body with the fluidity of an Ailey dancer, sweat pouring down and oblivious to the bullshit surrounding him. Thank you, thank you so much for allowing me to capture a small part of that!
Brian Brooks, you better WORK!
I got back to Harlem about 5am on Monday and slept until 10:30. Philippe called to say he was leaving right then and there, but I convinced him to give me a half hour to pull it together. We got to Brooklyn quickly and let me tell you, that little bit of rain didn't deter anyone!
For the most part, the pictures tell the story, but I will say this: I won't be going to Jamaica anytime soon. Fuck those bitches ... and Wyclef Jean, too. No, I'm not even trying to break it down and say anything intelligent or rational. Fuck 'em! I'm sure glad I was waving Trinidad's flag, but other Trinis were waving their flags to the "Batty man ... BOOM" dottishness (Trini for stupidity), too. I really shouldn't subject myself to bullshit like this, but I'll probably be back next year. Maybe by then I'll figure out how to appear straight and rack up the booty calls like I'm sure all the Caribbean men on the DL (and their flagless American counterparts) did.
Anyway, before my face gets completely fixed up, see what stories you can get from the pictures yourself. Enjoy!
Falun Gong represents truthfulness, benevolence and forbearance
Philippe gettin him some coconut water from Jatibwa; Pathmark sponsors a steel band
"Oh gosh, American Airlines comin down de parkway! RUN!"; drunk sailor missed de plane but still carrying he J'Ouvert powduh
Trini cutie; de slack Jamaican gyals dem
this Jewish neighborhood is obviously not part of the festivities; silver J'Ouvert man
a measured police presence; "Oh gosh, I drink too much Red Stripe! Hurry!"
a fantasy in orange; I wanted to tell her "Heffa, MOVE!!!"
plenty of boeuf abounds; Wyclef Jean can kiss the Black of my ass.
Guyanese cutie; dem have strong back; Trini J'Ouvert duo
steel pan gyal; Philippe hates this picture
Bajan cutie; at least somebody has a nice view
hoodrat cutie (afraid to wave his flag or don't have one?); Trini muddah shows us how to do it
sexy daddies; serving old-style carnival
more orange fantasy; Philippe runs into a friend
"She ah de queen, de queen o de pack"; something about this man turns me on
I definitely relate; that afro was sky high!
pretty Haitian lady; sexxxy-ass Nexxx gives me what I want
Haitian Times truck; Philippe tells me that in Haiti the trucks and viewing banquets would be so high!
da fellaz: Eddie, Bernard, Robert, Philippe, and Mike; Haitian cutie
bringing up the rear and shutting the party down quite early (it's not even dark); now the Jewish people come out *rolls eyes*
Glad you had a great weekend. Just let the knuckleheads kiss it!
Sorry about my weak stomach and indecisive ass on Sunday.
I lived right around the corner from Eastern Parkway (near the Brooklyn Museum) for five years. I don’t miss the parade and the noise and stink for a week at all. Maybe now that I’m safely away from the area, I’ll start enjoying it next year.
Oh Baby,
Life is like that sometimes: The people who we want to be closest to are the ones who, often, hurt us most severely. With indifference, ignorance, and rejection. It’s painful and difficult to be loving to Colored folk sometimes. Just makes one want to holler!
However, all of us are not passive or cowardly “assholes.” Those that are—no pun intended—fuck them. And invest your energy into those that affirm or love you for you. Like I.
Much love to you.
Always, DBD
It seems that the same criteria people are using to decide not to give you play (face, body, dick, etc.) you are using to find other men attractive and to choose who you will take pictures of. Perhaps you need to problematize that for a moment. I know I share some similar conflicts and can relate.
Thanks for making me feel like I was there - without actually having to be there! I’ve had similar experiences dealing with The Blacks and at events like this.
Don’t let it change you, boo. BTW, Wyclef has always been on my To Don’t list.
Thanks for these wonderful pics and helping me to feel like I was there although I was running around ATL. I never miss Labor Day…damn! But on the batty boy bidness, the last time I was in JA I found that the DJ’s dem have a preoccupation with these -fassy, batty boy, and chi-chi man. The harder they can ‘dis one while freestyling, the more roar they get from the crowd. Sometimes I wonder if the lady doth protest too much! Sorry you didn’t make it to ATL, but it looks like you did your thang up here. You know 667 is right around the corner from me, you betta’ call ‘ol gurl up the next time you come around.
Thanks for making me feel like I was at the parade… oh wait… I was there… musta been that lack of sleep after partying at the D.I.C. in ATL… hahahah.
As for the brothas who pay no attention (then wanna come back)… perhaps looking at it as his loss instead of your failure is the key. Move forward instead of lamenting about the past (there are times I still don’t follow my own advice.. but I try to most of the time). One think I ask myself… am I everything I look for in others… if not, and I really want it, then I look to make the change in self so that I’m more of what I like….