Adventures in Fine Dining

So.

Yesterday was dinner with the ex and his family. The whole evening had an almost...ethereal quality to it; I felt a little like we were on stage, preforming some staged version of our lives. I can't believe that Dooney (the ex's son) is four-years-old now. We were playing with him in the living room while Mom and Pop Dukes finished the meal, and the whole time I had the "no one hates a baby" series running through my head. I'm really glad that I don't remember number 2 or 3...because I know that they got progressively worse...and the first one was pretty awful. Meanwhile: Dooney is the sweetest kid on the face of the known planet; how TJ is managing to raise this amazing kid by himself is beyond me. [Side note: I will admit, thtat the whole...in the living room, playing with TJ and his son thing, made me sad for a brief moment. But I recovered by dinner]

Mom Dukes made me proud; she did not launch into her "you're supposed to be my daughter-in-law" speech like I thought she was going to. There were moments that I could feel her leaning in that direction, but she restrained herself to just a quick "it's not too late" when I hugged her before I left. Pop Dukes, on the other hand, had be told (by TJ) to cool off with the marriage suggestions, at various parts of the post-dinner conversation.

I promised a friend of mine that I wouldn't do anything I would regret, so when Mom and Pop Dukes took Dooney off to bed, I declined all invitations to go hang out at the park or Riverwalk or any other such place where we tend to flip the switch on our on-again/off-again situation to the "on" position, even when he made the sad face and baby voice. Go me.

Here is when I would say something clever to sum up the whole evening, but I've got nada. I was nervous that the whole ordeal was going to be a lot tougher than it was....yay for starting to move on and all that. Ya'll have a great rest of the year...I think this might be it for me until 2011.

Peace Be

Adventures in Parenting

So.

It is no secret that I have a world of issues surrounding my parents, specifically my Pops, that I should probably work through at some point if I'm going to live a happy and healthy life (bla bla bla). These alleged issues tend to affect relations with the folks on a relatively consistent basis, especially when I find myself in the immediate vicinity of the rents.....but yesterday, and today....the two of them have been acting...quite odd.

For example, today the entire family rode to church together....which we haven't done since 1998 when E2 got his driver's license. [Side note: E2 is my big brother. This should be common knowledge....but it might not be.  Also....completely unrelated - church was really good today. It was the first time I've been able to sit still through a service since Thanksgiving. So. Yeah. end note] Post-church....when mom asked what I had taken out for dinner today, Pop's response was: "Let's give her a break today; she's been cooking since she got home." Then he proceeded to ask me where I wanted to eat. A couple things happened at the resteraunt that normally would have caused him to flip out, either there, or in the car, or back at home...instead - he jumped on the Wii with the Munchkin...and is now asleep.

I'm...really starting to wonder what went down on their vacay that's making them (him) act so....human. Also...working on that whole paranoia thing too. Mm.

Peace Be

Adventures in Christmas Cheer

So.

Christmas 2010 has been...great, I think. Start the day off with the usual: church, fancy breakfast, and presents. [Sidenote: "fancy" here is used to mean pancakes. endnote] Gave the munchkin his preliminary presents: guitar stand for his bass, new strap for his bass, new accessories for the keyboard, couple ties, suspenders, new cd...and a couple other random trinkets to tide him over till the "real" gifts are opened when the rents get back home. The rents get back home. We open the rest of the munchkins gifts. We (the munchkin and I) spend....a ridulous amount of time on the Wii; then we (the whole fam) head to the Munchkin's Godparents' house for dinner. Had a blast over there. Mom remembered that Guesstures stresses me out, so when Godpop brought out the box, she somehow recruited enough additional players so that I could preform the duties of the head judge. [Side note: all games are serious...and require the decision making skills of a head judge. This person may also serve in the capacity of official time and score keepers. end note] Dinner was good. Godmom taught me (finally) how to make her bangin' Banana pudding, and now..I'm taking a break to blog before jumping back on the Wii.

Some...things to think about...

Haven't seen my Godbrother in something like 10 years....and he turned out to be beautiful. Like...legit gorgeous. Mm. I don't know what the standard policy is on hooking up with your baby brother's Godbrother....but I got his number anway. Gonna go hang out with him in Atlanta some time next week.

Also...my parents seem...different. To begin, my Mom is like....I speculated around Thanksgiving that she had been gaining weight, but I didn't think too much about it. But like...she ate breakfast, ate again at dinner, brought home some cake. She was mad...active at Godmom's house - it was good. And my Pop....I don't know...he usually finds a way to not be in the same room with me when I'm home...but he was very...just..present all day today. It was just a legit good day - all day....and now that I'm thinking about it - I'm starting to get paranoid that it's a calm before the storm kinda thing...so I'm going to get offline and go play some tennis or something.

Peace Be

Adventures in Gaming

So.

A friend of mine has noted that I have not blogged in quite some time, and in order to remedy this situation, she has a devised a bit of a "game". I use the word "game" here to indicate pseudo-torture device, intended to bring about sharing.

Here are the rules:
1. She calls out a word.
2. I respond.

Got it? Let's begin:

Winter
My first year of teaching I had a student named Winter in my inclusion class. Sometimes I think about her...wonder where she is, and if she's actually learning anything useful in high school. This business about all children being made to learn the same set of information is going to lead to the mass institutionalization of disabled peoples later in on life...when we realize that they haven't learned the skills necessary to take care of themselves, because we were deluding ourselves into thinking that everyone should learn Algebra.

Trust
...and already I see where this game is going....mm. So. It is the general consensus that I have trust..."issues"....and I wholeheartedly disagree. People with trust issues don't trust people. I, however, am very trusting. I trust...everyone to a certain extent....even it's to the extent that they're eventually going to break my heart.

Vespas
I'm not really certain what a vespa...is...I think it's one of those lame scooters that hipsters think are actually...cool scooters. Mm. Fig tree.

Mombo
So. I spent the earlier part of the day with the afore mentioned friend and her mother, whom she affectionately calls "Mombo". Secretly - when she says this I think of mambo sauce and hear go-go music in my head...and then I imagine these two...very white people in HU's student center, and I laugh on the inside. Mombo is good people. Genuinely good people...and it was hard to sit in the car (mall, house, where-ev) and not burst into random tears. The two of them together make me miss something I don't think I ever had - maybe never going to get. Trag.

Bon-bons
I...want to spend a summer in southern France...hobo-ing around a bit.

Kit-Kat
BUY ME ONE FOR CHRISTMAS!


Dogs
I'm secretly convinced that dogs are the devil. I don't think that they mean to be...but they can't help themselves. People always expect that people that are afraid of dogs were attacked in some way as children...but I don't think that there's validity to that. Granted, I was attacked by a dog as a child....but I remember being afraid of dogs long before that. In fact, I think it was my fear of the thing that made me stand there like an idiot while the dog ran at me...perhaps if I hadn't been immobilized, I would have at least made an attempt to run away.

Couches
I miss Kisha's couch. Mm.

Grace
So. I think....that I'm supposed to use this word as a jumping off point to...at least think about how God ministers grace in my life, but I don't really have a defined concept of what grace looks like. Like. I know it has something to do with the fact that I'm still alive, and relatively healthy, relatively sane...more to do with the fact that forgiveness as a general concept is available to people...but beyond that, I got nothing. Sometimes I really remind myself of the church at Corinth. Mm.

--
Ok. That's enough of that....I hope you weren't too bored with the activity....as I will probably be doing it again, the next time I'm told that I'm taking too long between blogs.

Peace Be

Adventures in Spelling

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Adventures in Comedy

Jess has done it again. I find it....high to mid-larious. 

Peace Be

Adventures in Hypothetics

So.

Maybe something happens. Or nothing happens. But you wake up one morning and realize that the floor has dropped from beneath you, and you're falling again. Maybe you ignore it. Try to drown it. Try to carve it from your skin. Maybe you consider walking away. At some point, someone will tell you that you might need some help, and so maybe you go see someone. Just like last time. And the time before that. And the time before that, and so on for the past six years, and maybe they prescribe a magic bullet to take all of your pain away. And maybe you take it. Until you you realize you don't like how it makes you feel. Or you don't take it, because you remember you don't like how it makes you feel. And then you wait. Wonder what rock bottom will look like this year. Wonder how long you'll have to stay there. Whether or not you'll survive.

I'm tired of being in my head all the time. I would like a break. And some chicken. (I'm hungry).

Peace Be

Adventures in Explosives

So.

This particular piece of iGoodness was brought to me by Google Reader this morn.

Peace Be

Adventures in Poetry

So.

I wrote two versions of this piece a while ago - one while I was still in Hampton, and another last...March, I think. The second version maintains a bit of the beginning but changes near the end to be some tragic angsty thing about being a teenager and suicide and never giving up and bla bla bla bla....

Anyway.

Driving to work this morning, felt the sudden urge to revisit the original and do some editing (content not form). Not at all pretending that the poem is good (it has some awesome moments here and there)....but it is the most honest thing i've written in a while, so. Enjoy.
---

the hardest thing i've ever done is missed them both at the same time
the heavy of my secret
pressed to the skull with nowhere to go but inward
i still dream of us
an entire family
growing old on some beach though none of us swim
the children making sandcastles with smooth stones and seashells
their laughter riding out with the waves
and there is no front porch
or rocking chair
or heavy branched willow
but something in the sunset still smells like Savannah
i grew up enough Georgia to cook like my mother
and here
i would always be home
not so much wayward traveller with a handful of nickels and a story to honor the homeless
here's my confession
testimony
sacrifice and atonement
a tear and an alter to begin the burnt offering
tell Elijah to call on his God
if this type of heartbreak isn't stigmata enough for a valley to cling to its savior
then i don't believe these bones will live
although they've seen too much to die
call that a rock
or a hard place
or one of those things
just call it by name
and then call me
i'm a master at just in time
going all in with this last chance
i tell you my poker face is relentless
i've learned to glow bluff to bones with God
learned to carry the weight of this world on my words
i know how easy the promise is made
i can tell you the cost of forgiveness
studied well what it means to pay
to shuffle close
to butterfly tiptoe through darkness until you're nose to nose with a mirrored reflection of what you've run away from
here we are
a fiction novel at best
at worst nightmares again
and no poem
will ever know what it meant to say goodbye to your children
she
would be nine years old by now
he'd be learning to write his name
they'd both love their brother like David loved God
and we
would be something like a fairy tale
not this horror story and biohazard hammering beats in the pit of my belly
threatning always to find release in the speakerbox of silent tears
we'd be a miracle of music
they'd be the center of my spine
in the dream
i'm good at this
in the dream
they're still alive.
---
Peace Be

Adventures in Being Thankful

So.

Thanksgiving was not as tragic as I thought it would be. Going home tomorrow.

Peace Be

Adventures in Creeping Out the Neighbors

So.

As is normally the case when I don't quite feel up to going into the house, I was sitting in my car watching YouTube videos. Now normally, I watch the latest Philip DeFranco, check and see if Kid Fury has said anything outrageous, maybe see what's going on with Page Meets Stage....and then go inside. But yesterday, I was held deep in the clutches of everything Ken Arkind has posted on the web.

[side note: that's a lot of linkage...don't say i don't fulfill your "bored at work" needs. end note]

In any case, I'm sitting in the car...bursting into raucous laughter...or...you know...sobbing as the case may be (not real life sobbing....small...why can't i be as talented as ken teardrops), when I notice the slow and deliberate circling of a red vehicle. Of course, I immediately start gathering my belongings, because any time a car passes twice with no purpose...something shady is usually in the process of going down, and I didn't want to be present when things went wrong. My intent - to be in the house by the time this car made it around for a third time; however, by the time I looked up from having collected my bag...this dude was definitely parked behind my vehicle, making preperations to exit.

[side note: haven't prayed for real in a minute...you better belive I had some words with Jesus right then. end note]

So. As this guy is making a casual...creepy stroll to the car, I immediately crank up...because if need be, I will ram his little red Honda and flee; I will not be punked in the parking lot of my own apartment complex. But before I took drastic action, he had sped to a light jog and tapped on my window...'twas Tim...the maintenance guy for the complex; he had gotten mad calls about a crazy woman sitting outside my apartment and was coming to investigate....trag.

I have no...insight to add to this tale beyond...I must...do better.

Peace Be

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Adventures in Comedy

So.

This is brought to you by the homie Jessica Hagy. It is....my life.

Peace Be

Adventures in Unloading

So.

In no particular order:

1. A friend of mine asked if my heart still hurt the same amount as it did when we officially separated (again) this past summer. The answer is of course not. It hurts more.
2. Whatever new age thing my neighbor is into now is causing him to wear bright purple head wraps. There also appears to be chanting....it's almost 2011. Who is still chanting?
3. My baby brother is turning 16 on Thursday, and it's dawned on me recently that in the next few years I'll be sending him off to college. I need to readjust my finances...quickly.
4. I hate my voice. It really sucks to have near perfect pitch and a voice box that can only do a fifth of what I want it to.
5. Parents are....infuriating.
6. I'm starting to be the annoying friend - the one who's always sad or has problem or some other annoying thing to deal with - and I was trying so hard not to be that here. It's not their fault I don't have anyone else in this city...anyway. Must think happy thoughts. Be...the happy friend. 
7. I've turned into a smoker. Not a...one or two cigarettes to calm my nerves....but a legit....pack-a-day smoker. My lungs....hate me.

*Deep Breath*

Ok. That's it.

Peace Be

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Adventures in Bio-Terrorism

So.

It's that time of year again.

The weather has cooled down a bit and the heat across the school has been cranked up. The boys are sweating more heavily in the gym....but they are not compensating with additional anti-perspirant. What they are doing...is trying to cover the smell with an additional layer of Axe body spray. One student in particular...is covering it with some God-forsaken Chocolate scent...which makes me want to jump off a roof.

Normally, I would counteract this winter aroma with my usual hygeine speech...but these days I'm so on edge about everything...that the thought of having to tell the children, again, how funky they can be...makes me really angry. Or worse, when I consider that some of them really don't have the kind of parents that care whether or not the children come to school smelling the way they do... I getreally sad.

Mm.

I need someone to donate 50 sticks of Secret and 50 of Old Spice for me to pass out to the children before gymn.

Peace Be

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Adventures in the Camel's Back

So.

I'd kind of prepared a long and lengthy diatribe surrounding the "events" of last night....but this morning it appears that I have a lot less to say than I thought. The punchline: my big brother is not coming home for Thanksgiving. This was not the week to find that out.

Peace Be

Adventures in Red Hands

So.

This video represents the beginning of the red hand campaign; Artist and activist Sha'Condria Sibley, aka iCon the poet, speaks up and out about and against violence.

Peace Be

Adventures in Being Colored

So.

I did it.

I gathered a small support group and went to see For Colored Girls. And...I will say that I was...pleasantly surprised.

Beyond that, all I've got is go see it for yourself. The overall experience of it is determined by whether you've just read the original play, seen a good production of it, been in a good production of it, heard about it from one of your artsy friends in college...or just been dragged along as a member of someone's support group...too many variables to give a fair review.

In completely unrelated news - I have developed a theory. I think I was an over-sharer in my past life. I think I talked so much about myself that one day, someone tired of it and beat me mercilessly until I died. And the memory of this, is what keeps me from talking to people now, even though I know its unhealthy. Don't judge my theory. It's awesome.

Peace Be

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Adventures in Honesty

So.

Today was definitely a 9, and I'm a little scared. I don't...really know what to do with myself these days except keep on the face, stay busy, keep moving.....Not really sure how long that's gonna last.

Mm.

Stay positive people. This thing will turn around.

Peace Be

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Adventures in Memory

So.

I was cleaning the apartment on Saturday (read: searching frantically for my Social Security card which I thought had been accidentally discarded), and I stumbled upon the program from my high school graduation. And I know...I should have put it away quickly without any second look, but instead I sat and stared for a good hour or so....

I miss Maurice.

I would love to hear what he has to say about the last seven years of my life. I hate the fact that I've had to spend seven years without him. I hate that he's not going to be around for the next seven. I hate that every time I bring up missing Maurice, people go to reminding me how blessed I was to take my own car that day; how blessed I was to take a different route home...instead of...it really sucks that half your pair of best friends went and died on you. Especially now when the other half won't speak to you. Mm.

He would get a kick out of all of this...the getting into Wake, the living in North Cacky, the being paid to teach people things....he'd be proud of me I think. Even with all the craziness and not getting it right most of the time, he'd be proud.

Anyway.

iWPS qualifiers next week. I'll keep you posted.

Peace Be

Also. Prayers for Mom Dukes - she's not doing well these past few days.

Adventures in Almost-Poetry

So.
As per usual, I have pawned off the beginnings of one of my piddly pieces of poetry onto someone far more talented than myself for completing and correcting. But, as....not...per usual, I really wanted to share with you all (yes...all 6 of you) the first line of said po-em, since it kinda of sums up my mood over the past week or so.

And it goes...

when all of the metaphors have been reduced to the names of lovers who no longer want you
what will you have then
save a notebook full of reasons to stop your scribbling?

I started it....awhile ago...when things were better, but I found it again while flipping through my notebook recently and I was like...."oh. these are the words to express how i'm feeling. perf."

That whole....anywhere-but-here thing is settling in hard, and I really want to leave the Dash...immediately.

Peace Be

Adventures in Highway Maintetnance

So

We need to come up with a new way for me to de-stress. I've jumped on 52 almost every day this past week, spending hours going up and down that highway....and I still don't have a clear head.

Suggestions?

Peace Be

Adventures in Aveeno®

So.

As a loyal customer and excellent consumer, I tend to purchase any new Aveeno^® products almost immediately after I'm aware of there existence on the market. Yes, this compulsion does border a bit on the obsessive; I've at one time or another used Aveeno^® shower gel, shaving cream, hydrocortizone cream, face wash, and shampoo...in addition to each and every one of the lotions they offer. Mm. I've also at one point or another had strong urge to ignore the implied age restrictions of the anti-aging creams and see what they can do for these insomniac eye-bags I have.

I am by no means I blind consumer. I do credit the good people at the Aveeno^® headquarters for, as the homie puts it, legs that are the same color all the way down with no breaks (ha!), I cannot really make any statements of largesse about most of the other products they've got on the market. Granted...it is nice to know, that if I'm ever in Des Moines, Iowa and can't find any appropriate black girl products, Wal-Meezy is sure to have something I can use until I get back to civilization.

[Side note: Black girl products are usually found in the back of beauty supply store in the same shopping plaza as a Family Dollar or Food Lion. They are not the brown (or more and more these days, bright orange) bottles of Vaseline Intensive Care or Jergens lotion) that can be found in your local Target. Black girl products are large tubs of a deceptively creamy-looking substance, consisting largely of shea butter, tropical fruit, and grape seed oil. End note]

Point? Yes. I had one. So geeked about my new lotion. Geeked enough to tell all of the homies who may feel extra ashy during the winter months that are coming....get hip to the "Postively Nourshing" joints that have revolutionized my whole life...do it today....in fact, spend all of the energy that you've got stored up for clowning me for posting about lotion...and get to your local grocer and cop this lotion.

You'll thank me.

Peace Be

Adventures in Love

So.
I have been in love twice.
Twice and a half if you include this unrequited situation I seem to never quite be rid of, but I don't usually when I'm in the midst of being profound, so we won't include it.

I've been engaged once (twice? once and a half?) proposed to thrice, and secretly I'm certified to teach in Washington because for a brief period of time - maybe 14 or 15 months - we were going to move to Seattle.

If the numbers aren't adding up in your mind....it's because they don't add up in real life, and it dawns on me, that I....do not have this relationship thing down as well as I think I do. The cheating and settling notwithstanding...I had a thought.

I have never...just been in a relationship...I've always been somebody's first something...or they've been my first something....first date after the big break up, first adult relationship, first relationship period....and being someone's "first" something is a far cry from being their "only" anything...which is all we really want from the person we're in a relationship with.

Beyond that....sad to say....is that I'm usually not "happy" in a relationship until it's settled into a state of codependency....which I think we already knew....but no one wanted to say out loud until now...I may not know what a happy, healthy, adult relationship looks like.

We...may need to work on that.

Peace Be

Adventures in YouTube

So.

I'm secretly in love with this man from Miami whose foolishness is reminiscent of the good ol' HU days (ha!), and so I had to share his latest with you. I will offer that I am morally opposed to much of what comes out of his mouth, but other bits do quite literally make me laught out loud....think of him....what you wish.

Peace Be

Adventures in Revelatory Home Visits

So.

In the tradition of all people who are probably too "deep" for their own good, I couldn't just go home for the sake of going home; I had to learn a few things. Here we go:

1. It is necessary to go on some sort of ritual fast for at least a week prior to coming here....this trip alone has negated all of the pretend healthy eating I've done since March. While being hungry for seven days might have some type of backlash in terms of the initial amount of food consumed upon first walking in the door of Mom's house, it may be well worth it in terms of the level of spiritual preparedness for the task of being at home.
2. My mother has this horrible habit of not telling me what's going on...several people that I - admittedly wasn't all that close to, but had some amount of concern for - have passed away in recent weeks, but she didn't tell me because she didn't want me thinking about it while I was on the road poeting. Granted...I can appreicate the intent behind the secrecy, but great day. (Note: any parallels to my own levels of "secrecy" are completely inappropriate and utterly inaccurate...so...there)
3. I like dark red fingernail polish. This is very un-COGIC of me.
4. I almost confessed my undying love for an old friend of mine on Twitter. This would have been tragic in so many ways....mainly because it's Twitter. And because it's 2010 - who still falls in and out of love with their friends?
5. White chocolate cheesecake is still a gift from Jesus. (see #1 for additional information)...and finally,
6. It's time to start thinking about moving futher south. Four hours is too far away when you need to get somewhere in a hurry. I've been checking out the school systems in Atlanta, Savannah, Columbia....cut the journey home in half...be able to pop in and out on the weekends, that whole thing.

Ok. That's enough of me. You all stay safe.

Peace Be

Adventures in H-Town, GA

So.

It's clear at this point that I'm not going to be sharing (finishing because it was going to be garbeage) the piece that reflects my experience at Nats this year. But if you were interested it went like this:

Part 1:
The experience of competing against Roger and Jeanann and Adam and Trevor and Mo and Carlos (et cetera, et cetera, et cetera) is terrifying enough withough Eboni and Marty and Ink and Carrie and Jon (et cetera, et cetera, et cetera) being in the audience.

Part 2:
The points are not the point. Deep breath. Go get on stage.

Part 3:
I'm still awesome on stage.

Part 4:
Slam family picnic is awesome in a self-affirming kind of way. The afore mentioned names are reduced from poet-gods to just poets, and all is right with the world.

---

Word.

So.

I've been at home for the past couple of days and have become increasingly more terrified by the air freshener my mother has placed in the living room. Of course, I appreciate it on the level that pop is going through man-opause and baby brother is nearly 16 - and so both bring a male funk that could be oppresive if it went unchecked....nevertheless...it sprays at random intervals that always freak me out....especially at 3am when I'm watching old episodes of True Blood.

Writing my iwps qualifier po-ems. Currently they suck....but hopefully i'll get them together before the slam off in September. I'm going to make baby brother video my 4-minute rehearsal...so I can see what Bob means when he talks about my lack of performance energy during the denoument of the po-em. If Bob is crazy....I'll post it.....if I've got mad work to do....then i'll just hit you with a copy of the po-em.

Alright. Enough of my rambling.

Peace Be

Adventures in (National) Poetry

So.

Just got back in from NPS in St. Paul, Minnesota, where we were summarily abused by louderARTS, the Green Mill, and Dallas on the first night of prelims, thereby obliterating all hope of ranking at all in the competition. Tragic. That said, I hit several emotional lows that had nothing to do with the competition, but overall...I had a good time. I mean hey, I got to meet and get feedback from some awesome writers, play a djembe in artists' quarter, and watch two of my favorite teams do...extraordinaly well. (Big ups to team SNO for pulling the 1 at the group piece finals, and to Bull City for pulling the 3 overall). Next year's competition is in Boston, and although I spent much of Wednesday swearing of the whole PSi "community"....I'm already kinda geeked for the opportunity to reconnect with some of the poets that I met this year. ABOVE ALL ELSE...looking forward to Southern Fried next year in Atlanta.

Currently working on a po-em that is a reflection of the week's experience. Should be up tomorrow.

Peace Be

Adventures in (COGIC) Poetry

So. Last week was the AIMS Conference in good ol' Charlotte, NC, and yours truly was in attendance. Not only in attendance, but I was asked to perform some po-e-try for Mother Rivers, Lady Mae Blake, Lady K. C.-Sheard, Mother Fitts, Dr. Wells, and mad others at the Bishops' Wives' Luncheon. Now. For you non-COGICs, this setting and cast of characters may not sound spectacular...and I too am not normally a person that cares about the "celebrity" of things....but imagine, if you will, what the experience of Oprah asking you to be the first poet ever to preform at the Essence Women in Hollywood Luncheon would be like...and you'll have some idea of how it felt to be me last week. You may tease me if you wish....but I was in little COGIC girl heaven.
--

In completely unrelated news: I want to take up some sort of visual art...obviously not any type of drawing, because i have...no skills in that area.....but something.

Peace Be

Adventures in Poetry

So. I have found an entirely new level of respect for people who poet for a living. Dead up: my livelihood is not dependent on this hustle, and still I find myself consistently on the brink of overwhelmed. Peep my schedule for the next few:

Tomorrow: Show @ the library (read as monkey dance for people who may be funding our trip to nattionals)
Wednesday: Practice & writing session
Thursday: Practice & recording session
Friday: Show @ gallery hop

Also this month: I'm performing for the COGICs (I'm actually stupid excited about this one. Details to come post-event); doing a thing in Raleigh with Sonia Sanchez (same side comment); two more legs of the Carolina tour, and a few more miscellaneous performances.

I will admit that there is a layer of geeked-upedness hovering above the intensity, but my God - if I needed to do this to pay my rent, I would have had a nervous breakdown like....two third-places ago.

Speaking of breakdowns: thanks to all of you fine folk who endured my whining last week. And a special thanks to those that called/texted to see what was up. A HUGE THANKS to Tie and Chriss for enduring my general vaguness about the goings on of my very brief hospital stay. I love you both.

Mm. The craziness of my schedule has actually led me to forgive my parents for the "get this poetry thing out of your system" comment. Granted: this does make the top ten list of things I wish the folks has never said to me, nevertheless, I do not want to be the 35-year-old who brings her toddler into sports' bars for poetry slams evey Friday night. More than that, I do not want to be the 35-year-old who resents the hell out of her kids because she didn't get to fulfill her twenty-something dreams. So. Touché Mom and Pop, I am getting something out of my system...perhaps not poetry....but something I'll be glad I had the opportunity to say goodbye to.

Nationals coming up in a month and I feel drastically unprepared. But also kinda like....whatev, the words will speak for themselves, and if the audience likes quiet stories about post-adolescent heartbreak I might make the indies. Ha! I'm also kinda intrigued by the fact that southern teams don't appear to be well respected by the Nats community. I mean, let me find out that the poetry scene has some kind of regional beef like rappers circa 1995. Personally, I'm routing for a top five that's two parts Carolina, one part Seattle, one part Shattered Thought, and one part...either Urbana or Loser Slam.

Alright. That's more than enough out of me for one evening. I'll talk to you soon.

Peace Be

Adventures in Whining

So.

I'll admit it.
I got my hopes up.
I expected her to call and wish me a happy birhday, and she didn't. And it hurt.
I will also admit that the fact that my best friend moved away this weekend sucks.
And I will also admit that as much as I recognize the benefts of quitting, I really want to smoke right now.
And it also sucks (for him) that I called the man I keep on a yo-yo because I was lonely, and not because I actually wanted to talk to him.
I will admit that I need to get at least half of my issues under control before I try to be with anybody, even (especially) if I do end up trying yo make it work for real with him.
It sucks that I have to spend the next couple days in the hospital, because I really hate hospitals. I will also admit that I'm lightweight nervous.
I will not admit that I should have let my parents come up here like they wanted to; however, I will admit that I'm lightweight pissed off that they didn't come anyway.
I'm also pissed at myself for complaining. I hate complainers.
*sigh*
I want....something.
I'll let you know when I figure out what it is.

Peace Be

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Adventures in Poetry

Eucharist: or what to say to your mother to let you save her life
we are the same color
a bittersweet kind of caramel that groans mahogany in the summer
flash of sunset beneath the skin
we both sing like Savannah
5 foot 4 with small hands
wide feet
and bad knees
pound for pound
we have the same body
my mother
hurricane of a woman
spun sugar and rice into Sunday meals
after giving her last in an offering plate
so god would not go hungry
asked permission to carry communion wafers
gone stale from service to service
home to serve us as Monday supper
she said we were blessed
with an honor like this
"it is his body"
she'd say
"broken for us
and as always we give him thanks
you always remember you carry his name
don't ever forget you wear my face"
side by side we look like sisters
for a moment
until subtle differences take shape
the gray in her locks
the hollow in her throat
the shadow in her eye that does darken with age
she's seen a lot now
done a few things perhaps as a child she swore she wouldn't
perhaps even more she couldn't have known would ever warrant such a promise
most of those
in the name of our father
who was in denial about most things
she hid his needles
hid his anger
taught his children not to hate him
love like hers is made in the quiet space of being rocked away to sleep
by arms so frail
one tear might cause the weighed snap of bone through dreams
it's battle scarred
and iron tipped
beaten bloody more times than we'd like to remember
her body a patchwork quilt reminder of every time stood up for her children
each scar a story more severe then the next
a bruise will tell you what the beating meant
and these days there is something
not unlike midnight trying to snatch the sunlight from beneath her skin
it is her body
turned in on itself
like some kind of flesh to bone civil war
beaten back with pills
and prayer
and second opinions that all seem to say the same thing
seem to say that the pain she kept tucked in the pit of her belly is finally trying to break free
a current of poison that courses through veins
that river her wrists much like my own
you cannot tell her not to be a hero
she does not understand what that means
nor understand my stance on being the one to give her the donations she needs
"it is my body"
i say
"broken for you
my way of giving thanks
a new testament in bone ground to the dust
for the honor of wearing your face
it is no sacrifice
it's what you would do
and i still carry your name
one hurricane woman to another
to satisfy
your cry for rain"

---
Peace Be

Adventures in NapoWriMo

I am...falling tragically behind on all of my napowrimo writings....at best all i have is the beginnings of poems....but i'm kind of ok with that. i'd like to say that one day i'll be amazing enough to sit down and crank out thrity great poems in a day...or at least forgiving enough of myself to let the stuff i know is bad sit long enough to be edited. (for those that are confused...before, i refused to recognize the crap, now i don't even allow myself to write it down)

in any case, i asked my sister to write me a po-em and she did, and so here is the beginning of the one she's getting in return. don't know if you guys will get to see the finished version, but we shall see.

---
it is no easy thing
the strength it takes to hear someone say 'i love you'
no magic bullet
the courage it takes to trust it is no lie

if you are reading this
it's an act of will i have learned not to take for granted

i know what it is to deserve congratulations for crawling out of bed
to comfort yourself with only things you know will someday kill you
and pray that no one else will try to read beyond the lie
i hope this poem finds you well
less about survival stories
more about surviving
more about forgetting the struggle to survive

Adventures in Katrinatown

Katrinatown 2010

1.
He is a torn denim jacket and dusty black boots with no laces that have never fit him
Dry lips that would smile if they remembered the steps
And a stomach kissed hard to the backbone
He carries in pocket a notebook of poems and a pencil on its last breath
This is day 7 of temperatures flung near freezing
Day 2 that he can’t feel his fingers
And he asks me where I think God is.

2.
Tent city is nothing to smell at high noon after weeks of rain
There is not light enough to make this pretty
Not hope enough to make it clean
I wonder
Why the suicide rate is so low
The answer:
No one here can afford a rope

3.
He asks if I believe in mercy killings

4.
I believe guns can kill people
It’s just hearts usually get to first
We lock our words in the chambers of our heart
And spin with the swelling of our lungs
I tell you
"I love you"
Is nothing to Russian roulette with
Good intentions are worse

5.
Did you intend to send help someday?
Are your intentions still in the mail?
Did you know good intentions promise just as much as the promise of reparations?
We will cash your good intentions as soon as my grandmother gets 40 acres
We will compile those good intentions to build houses on our land

6.
I have already seen the blueprints
Of a bigger and better city
A Cajun fried tourist trap of a town with riverboats down on the bayou plans to buy out every laundromat selling po’ boys and cleaners with the secret to gumbo
We will French Creole sprinkle hoodoo around a café named Lower 9th
And the rest will be just a memory

7.
Do you remember?
1965
And her name was Bessie
And they made no secret
Brought dynamite to make tinker toys of the levees for her to play with
She made angel dolls of men to give as hand me downs to her children
Like “Look Katrina
See what Mommy can do
Now see if you can do it bigger”

8.
There is a fine line between administrative mistake and
Government sanctioned genocide

9.
He has never been a thief
Won the class spelling bee in first grade
Was the only one to remember the capital ‘A’ in America
Now left fiending for aid in America
Because he can’t claim enough capital
He’s just collateral damage in a call from the Capitol
Saying, “Get those body bags ready”
We are years removed from the eye of the storm and still as blind as ever
I want to tell him God his present
But look at his shelter and get confused

10.
If the people of New Orleans still cant’ rest
My God
What is Haiti going to do?

--
Also - congrats to Eurydice, Renaissance, and Krosswords, I can't wait to see what's going to happen.

Peace Be