Recently in Life Category

I have food
I can’t eat
I can’t sleep
I’ve tried to sleep
I can’t sleep
I have to sleep
I need my rest
but I can not rest
yet.

They say it’s presumptuous
to call yourself an artist
or to call yourself brilliant
but I am an artist
and I am one
of the most brilliant people that I know.

That’s why I can’t sleep.

I can’t sleep when I know
that I can make a difference
that I have made a difference
that I can make more of a difference.

I can’t sleep when I know
he’s performing tonight
at fucking Madison Square Garden
while somewhere in another square
someone is begging for help
someone is begging to be saved
someone is begging for her life
someone like me.

I’ve been bashed, too
but we go on.

I haven’t slept much
I don’t like the way I look
I need a haircut
and a shave
and a job
and to clean my house
I am furious
I am shaking as I type this
I don’t like the way I feel
but we go on.

I still want to do my best.

There is a new urgency surrounding the latest episode of a continuing crisis; I’m referring to the videoclips of the recent gay bashings in Jamaica and relating them to Buju Banton’s performance here at Madison Square Garden tomorrow evening. (If you haven’t heard about any of this, please refer to Terrance Heath’s blog.) I am concurrently working on resurrecting my podcast series in order to respond in protest, so be on the lookout for that.

However, the purpose of this particular entry is not to talk about the specifics of that.

I’m writing this at around 4am on Saturday morning. Yesterday I spent most of the day emailing and calling people that I know personally in my community in the hope of garnering a response greater than any that I could undertake by myself. I did not leave Harlem. I started out by making a deposit at my bank to fund my domain renewal and my upcoming global telecommunications. I walked over to Halal Roti Plus (one of the sponsors) in an attempt to engage in a productive dialogue with owner Don Grant. When I arrived, I was greeted with the same poster that I’d previously seen around Harlem promoting tomorrow’s event, but Mr. Grant was away at a doctor’s visit and was not available for comment. I crossed the street to inquire about community relations at the Amsterdam News. I walked back down 125th Street past the Apollo Theater to the Harlem State Building. About a month ago, I ran into the wife of State Senator Bill Perkins at a local restaurant and she encouraged me to physically go and remind the Senator’s chief of staff of some photos I’d taken of them during an event he sponsored this past February in celebration of Black Style Now and Fashion Week. I did just that. His chief of staff gave me her business card as she was leaving the building with the Senator. I took the opportunity also to tell them about Buju’s upcoming performance (and our Internet-based response); she hadn’t heard anything about it and actually thought he wasn’t performing anymore. We continued walking east on 125th Street and relayed to them as much as I could before going back home to organize a bit more. At the end of the day, I ended up conferencing with Tokes Osubu, executive director of Gay Men of African Descent for my podcast. We accomplished that, however, we both agreed that the need is ultimately so much greater than a response to Buju’s latest machinations or to any specific crisis.

It is time, to coin a biblical phrase, to separate the wheat from the tares.

There comes a time when it’s no longer healthy or feasible to wait for your vision of a scenario to actually correlate to the reality of the current scenario. Sometimes the answer is yes and sometimes the answer is no. Acceptance of the negative, in my experience, has proven to always be more difficult - particularly when so much of my well-being hinges on the promise of the affirmative. In the meantime, both parties have needs; it is prudent to expect that my needs will always be clearer to me.

It is frightening how applicable this notion is to so many aspects of my life right now. It makes so many things seem so clear.

Those of you who read my blog regularly (well, when I blog with any regularity) know I’m pretty up front about some of the more intimate details of my life and my psyche. I guess it feels like sharing, overcoming, bragging … no, more like sharing, but most of the time I can’t help but feel like ultimately I’m shooting myself in the foot.

Life has shown me that there are people out there who really don’t give a shit about me and sometimes it has even been gracious enough to name names - sometimes in bold and underline. I run into these people and they mention reading my blog and relaying what they read as if they’re doing me a favor for the couple of strained moments that we have to exist in the world together. Usually I’m nice about it, questioning their interest and smiling through wishing for the moment to end right along with them so we can each return to our requisite corners of the world as quickly as possible. Sometimes, I cross the street.

I had a great conversation last night with my buddy Darrell last night about giving gifts. We both believe that a fantastic gift doesn’t have to break the bank, especially if it’s a gift for someone you know. It is truly the thought that counts; thinking about what the recepient might like or need based on what you know can be the foundation of a wonderful gift at any price point. Infuse that with style and good taste and it could be FIERCE!

I love giving gifts, but I usually don’t get caught up in the whole Obligatory Gift-Giving Marathon that occurs every year around this time, regardless of whether or not I actually have the money to spend. I just imagine so many more Black dollars leaving Harlem at Christmas, never to return. I don’t want to participate in that … but still, I love to give gifts when I can that let my loved ones know that I appreciate their presence in my life.

So, stay tuned gentle reader. I have a special gift in store for you!

I recently went to The Obligatory Corporate Holiday Party; we exchanged gifts that cost about $20 each. I contributed a gift of two CDs (Bettye Lavette’s I’ve Got My Own Hell To Raise and Meshell Ndegeocello’s Dance Of The Infidel) and received Homedics Sound Spa. I ducked out of the party early before anyone could reclaim my gift. Plus I had other business that required my attention. Let’s just say that the Sound Spa works equally as well at home and in hotel rooms … *wink!*

It really is quite soothing. At first I found myself trying to listen for the obvious signs of sampling, but eventually my imagination won that over. My favorite setting is “Rain” - it’s just rain hitting a window or a roof; no rainforest animals or extraness found in the other settings (one of which is a mother’s heartbeat *blink*). It’s been on nonstop since I brought it home.

And of course I’m going to extend the metaphor below the fold …