May 2005 Archives

ADVENTURE

FUN

DESPERATE

INCOGNEGRO

MARRIED?

COMPETITION

ANXIETY

INCONSISTENT

REPLACING?

TRANSIENT

UTILITARIAN

Just before, I had to take a break to go outside and get some sun or air or something. Sometimes, I swear, I don't know if I'm qualified to deal with the diverse mental instances that show up at the counter. It frames so much of my life right now and it will for some time to come. I feel it taking its toll along with everything else that demands some money or moment of concentration in my life. I'm not complaining, really, because there's opportunity in there as well, but lately ... and lonely ... I don't know.

This guy came to the counter yesterday and did something to me. His incredibly placid demeanor washed over me like a warm bath from a lover, me in my Chaka Khan t-shirt. Of course. I could have spent all day with him and I wondered about a life. I kept looking into his eyes and not looking away, and none of my defenses were working.

Maybe you've received the same e-mail I did about an upcoming Blue Lights in the Basement party? Well, seeing it made me dig up the original image. Click on it for that 1998 reminiscence.

Okay, so before I get into what I got into in Brooklyn tonight, I just want to send a personal big up to Miss Shaune Patterson. Because Mr. Waukeen McCoy is in the business of getting Black people paid when Apple fucks up. Honey, if you hear me, I truly could use some more hard drive space for my old Sawtooth G4! *LOL!*

Oh, and while I'm mentioning news, artists and Brooklyn, a little bird told me that Miss Sandra St. Victor is here visiting from Amsterdam! And, remember, she's expecting, so send stuff! Okay, girl, that makes three girls! That's a female triumvirate you got now! Okay, Miss Thing is supposed to arrive in October ... hmm, that gives Sandra plenty of time to bring Daughters of Soul to either Summerstage or Celebrate Brooklyn or something, right? RIGHT?

Okay, now that I got a little of that serious frustration (sexual and otherwise) off my chest, here's some cute tidbits I'd like to share. I was doing some spring cleaning (with special thanks going out to Apartment Therapy for the much-needed inspiration) and came across this picture:

Your window was open. Across the way, down the street - you heard it: a shriek that seemed to pierce your skull and eviscerate your spine. An obscenity, it lingers only until it's obvious that I physically have no more air with which to emit it, dissipating into a low plaintive moan before silence. Until I breathe in to do it again ...

There's that episode of Sex & The City where Carrie celebrates singleness in the midst of seemingly everyone else's couplings and babies and all that - you know, the episode where she loses (er, someone steals) her $500 Manolo Blahniks at a party. Well, just the other night I had the very same revelation when one of my best friends came to visit me. We were chitchatting and he noticed all the pictures of couples that kept popping up in my screensaver. He made a comment which seemed to insinuate that I hadn't done enough of the "loving myself work" to be in a couple myself. Now, knowing him, he wouldn't be frank and just come out and say the shit, but I wish he would have if he felt like I really was missing out on something because of slacking off! For real! But no, he ducked and dodged, tried to back out and shut the conversation down, and I called him out on it. Here I am, celebrating all the couples in my life, only for one of my aforementioned coupled friends to make me feel like I'm less than because I don't have a man. What kind of shit is that?

Last night, I had a BALL! True, it was a little touch and go at first (I was THAT CLOSE for turning tail and running the fuck up outta there), but being surrounded by my good buddies in a beautiful gallery and lovely art made for a wonderful reception.

If you haven't checked out Jackie's Back by now, do so: Tim Curry's Edward Whatsett St. John nails the pronunciation - "Buh-roke" ...