Talk (Back) To Me

This post was a long time coming. Sorry about the delay in posting in general, but this has been a rather busy month

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I saw the Petey Greene movie literally the DAY it came out. The movie theatre was full of black people, and I saw maybe one white face in the crowd. I had to drive to Landover to catch it, so I got to see it in the Muvico 17 Egyptian (awesome theatre)

With a good crowd, you can always rely on a great response. Cheadle really seemed a lot like Greene's character but wasn't exactly the man himself. As a person, the last part of Greene's life wasn't spent in a poolhall but in church. Petey also actually became quite a successful man towards the end of his life, even though he remained in relative obscurity. As a radio personality, its true that he was quite a DC figure and still remains one today, but his family has been a little more than reticent to share these other parts of his life that the movie miss. Also, its good to note that his family didn't even get to participate in the making of the film which meant that the very personal side of Petey (like the fact that his wife, Judy, wasn't even in the film) was unseen.

All in all, I thought it was an excellent parody of a character, but talked nothing about a man who was pretty complicated. But then again, I expect nothing less in black film. We usually don't get to see all of ourselves on film, even with a talented black director at the helm. At most, to Hollywood, we're caricatures.

A Tale of Beasts Who Were, For a Time, Men

So we went on the train together... and that's when you said:

G: So there's this guy that we hang out with. He's a friend, but you should know... he's a little in love with me.

B: Uhm...

G: O my God... don't get that look on your face!

B: What? I'm just saying...

G: What? My friends are really nice! He's really nice!

B: Yeah, but you're just not understanding.


Hetero men are, at best, wolves. Wolves who like beer and naked chicks, but wolves nonetheless. We travel in little groups, battling for alpha status and lying to our friends about that desire for status. I don't know why we do this. I just know that we do this. Maybe its about sex? No idea... But we're protective and creepy and repressed and bloodthirsty.

So introducing a new wolf to the group, especially when that wolf is sleeping with you, is a dangerous proposition. The woman of the group is seen as the mother. Wolfmothers, in relationship to prehistoric life, were the stuff of fantasy and fairy tale. Adopted wolfmoms claimed the hearts of beastmen even when they didn't seek that heart, and someone giving you their heart is quite a commitment.

When they have to watch you give that heart to someone else, not of their clan, expect conflict.

I am, by no means, a judicator, so this conflict will not be settled in a logical or legal way. I'm a wolf too and I'm ruled primarily by that code. I'd deny it, but I'm of the mind that denying the self is dangerous, so I might as well learn its drive and try to at least take that nature seriously enough to be fair to it and try to give it a proper place in my life and in my societal weavings. To that end, I let testosterone take over and come out of my pores. I walked tall, kept her hand in mine, and behaved as any caveman would in jeans and a buttonup: I smiled a rakish smile and let their eyes trail over me.

When you're in full cavedude form as a guy, your mouth says words that your body finds pussified. In turn, a dual conversation begins to occur with scent betraying language.

"Hi, nice to meet you all"
My eye contact indicates that if you fuck with me, the world will smell like blood for days.

"Oh, you're Reece?"
I know you like our friend, but I'll fucking kill you if you hurt her.

"Yeah, that's me. The whole crew is here, eh? Great day for a game... the weather is perfect!"
I'm not intimidated by the fact that its five guys to one. In fact, I like those odds.

Even when we don't speak, we're talking to each other. You might be looking at me with affection or just listening to me, but the guys are all watching for the move of a hand or the kiss. Each time it happens, its an affront. Why? Because every time is a reminder to him that he's not going to get the chance to fuck you (at least not right now... you never know) and that's just plain old injustice when you're a wolf because... hey, everybody wants to fuck the machoman right?

--

I survived the date.

Thank Jeebus.

Deafened

I spent pretty much the whole day in a haze. Everyone at work is giving me the "Someone is changing..." look. My boss actually asked me, "But how are you doing? Have you taken some time for self-inspection? You are a very different man than the one that I interviewed a few years ago."

What about me has changed?

I think I met one of my five great ones.

If you've seen A Bronx Tale, you know exactly what I mean by that.

I've avoided a lot of personal talk on my own journal. For whatever reason, I've become somewhat nervous about it. I have to ask myself before I type this, "Why is this piece of you so guarded and hidden from everyone? Why can't you ever share how you're feeling with your friends and family?"

I don't know.

But what I do know is that I comically stumbled through my workday. I laughed maniacally as I sent out the wrong flyer to the wrong person at the wrong time for Publications. I then got a humorous email exchange back from upstairs, when in reality they should be telling me to go fuck myself.

I drove all the way to a work location to realize I hadn't called the guy I needed to see today early enough. He has now since switched shifts and probably won't even see me at least until the weekend.

I can't write this entry without laughing hysterically.

I feel great... so why am I fucking things up?

Obama 2: Kucinich Boogaloo

"I am a Dennis Kucinich supporter because I believe America's greatest problem is its incivility, its intolerance to new ideas, its remorseless hatred of weakness and failure, and the willinglness of its individual citizens to submerge their individual cowardice within the vicious commerce-driven standards of our national self-image. George Bush is a terrible president, but he is merely a by-product of thse wider national tendencies, which exist outside of him and independently of him. And these tendencies are symbolized exactly in the laughter directed at Dennis Kucinich. To vote for Dennis Kucinich, I believe, is to vote for man's right to publicly be who he is and not be ridiculed for it. If we are peaceful people, it is a vote for our right to merely be who we are."

- Matt Taibbi

If Obama is my black revenge revolver fired lazily from my privileged position, Kucinich is the velvet hammer swung by my endless pit of revolutionary rage. There's a lot about both guys to like, but liking the president isn't the requirement for a presidential candidate... the dude just needs to be right. In fact, I'd argue that the motherfucker just needs to be right about a few things and can get help from us on the rest. Dennis Kucinich is that dude, Barack could be that dude with a little help, and Hilary and Edwards are too scared to be that dude. Fear might push the privates, but the generals need confidence to lead the charge... and that means not just taking a stand but making the right choice that LEADS you to that stand.

Maybe they'll run on the same ticket and that would help me out. How much of a bonus would that be? Barack and Dennis doing the damn thing in the White House with a cabinet full of people that can throw some assists but aren't trying to pull a Demonic Dick and take over.

Why not just run some shit? Why not fix some shit? Man, I'd be all over the next candidate that says "I think I'd rather go out and work on Baltimore's education system" or "We fucked Iraq up like Buster Douglas..." Why does every candidate instead start talking through a big Plexiglass megaphone built by Bechtel?

Don't they know that they can't live without us? Yeah, yeah.. you have money. But regardless you still need someone to make your food and drive and all that... don't you know that if you don't start somewhere soon you're probably going to die painfully? Can't you see that if you abandon me and mine, you're abandoning yourself and yours?

Take this one chance, this one day, and be brave. Oddly enough, the dude you make fun of is the same person you should be emulating to get my vote.

Baltimore Love Thing Part One

Abstract


It feels so underrated, but that's a pile of horseshit. Baltimore is that person in the bar that looks like they don't just drink rail liquor but that they ARE rail liquor. Chipped teeth, eggbeatered hair, and a killer body. You can practically smell the funk of the last few losers that spent the night in it... and you know she'll be used again, you just don't know if you will be the user. Are you even thinking about it, or is she seducing you? Can you feel her hot fingers running through your hair?

And now its 6 AM and you're sober... clearly a bad decision. Is that puke in my goddamn trash can?

I love her, but I want her to give me a fucking break. I'm sad about her losses and struggles to stay in the black, but I'll be damned if I'm paying for even one more abortion.

Blitz Mode

Currently I'm on assignment in Baltimore, but I'll have a lot to say when I get back. Sorry about the delay, pardon our dust, etc.

Obama

Bloody yet? Internally wounded? Maybe you're just all PTSD from six long years of the Bush White House, brain damaged from the lies and the abuse. It's okay, dude, take a seat... pop that Xanax... we're all sitting next to you taking our drug of choice (I prefer Hennessy my damn self.)

Don't you want revenge? Don't you want a smidgen of hardcore getback, James Brown soundtrack and all?

So don't elect Hilary or John Edwards. Nah, that's precisely what some of the GOP actually wants, not even including those that desire an easy target. I'm actually talking about people who are just waiting to see if we can once again make the top seat colorless. Those two? They think Saul Alinsky is outdated. They'd prefer meetings, greetings, and martinis as opposed to change because they need it. They've gotta have that extra campaign money because they want to keep being rich and lovely. It's expensive being this good-natured and helpful!

Don't you want some getback, Chocolate City and surrounding areas? For years, these dudes move into town, drop their kids into private schools, and get to work at doing absolutely nothing. They desperately need the same old swampy Washington that L'Enfant cursed when they screwed him on the bill for all his hard work... now that's some Washingtonian shit, right there... District of Crime, baby! They're still doing it, still nailing all of us (MD, VA.. screw the lines, we're all in this shit together) with debt increasing legislation, redlining, overconsumption. Especially you folks down in the bowels of the shitstream... damn, I can't even drive downtown without worrying the bottom of my car won't fall into the canyons/potholes in the road. I think they've gone back to walking and horseback in SE. Why not? Unless you've got a bullwhip and you're looking for the Grail, the roads and their condition don't make a lick of sense.

Middle America, haven't you had enough yet? East Coast? The West Coast? You're not ready to take a cue from Anthony Anderson and just burn this fucker down? Yeah, I know... too radical... well, okay. Voting doesn't seem to do a whole hell of a lot other than keep us thinking we're "fighting the good fight the good way," but all right... there's something simple you can do to get that righteous feeling of revenge and it involves that pasttime that makes you feel safe! Isn't that wonderful?

Elect Barack Obama POTUS. I'm serious... yes, I know he's black, and that's precisely the point.

Okay, black guy to general population, I know we're not ready for a black president. Hell, I know I'm scared to see what will happen when he's made the serious candidate and he has to appoint a VP. But fuck it. Fuck fear, fuck racism, fuck everything. Man, I'm all about revenge right now.

Don't you want to see Cheney lose his damn mind? Don't you want to watch the GOP AND Dems struggle to comprehend this intelligent black dude and his impossibly sensible behavior now that we've had a certifiable mental defective for two terms? Don't you want to watch Bush give him a tour of the White House and show him around? Aren't you anxious for the first bills he passes that get resoundly denied by Congress, just so you can hear some brilliant shit come out of his mouth?

Now, don't get me wrong: If Hilary was making sense and being brave, I'd be backing her for basically the same reasons (a woman in the White House? In CHARGE? Cheney would tear out his Kryptonite heart and crumble to dust!)

That's the president that I want. I want the guy that literally causes Republicans to commit suicide over his blackness and familial pride. I want someone who at the mere mention of his name causes people to lose their mind and start talking nonsense about experience (yeah, experience has been such a blessing so far... career politicians are excellent!) I want a president who actually says shit that means something other than "vote for me" only because him doing shit like that will make other people who lie for a living really fucking unhappy.

Other people apologize for feelings like this. I think I've had too much Lithium and Prozac, because I really don't give a fuck about other people and their feelings about this right now. I'm too tired for working for a cause that is maligned, too bruised from years of fighting against a giant winged machine, too sick from watching a system that professes to care about me and my needs turn around and shit out people who think that education and health care is a privilege, and just too fucking angry to do anything other than organize for the rest of my life. So you're not gonna riot. You're not gonna break some shit to build some shit? Then at least participate and make it known that you care a LITTLE.

So I hear sit, next you on the bench, just as drugged and beaten to all get out. What are we gonna do? Take more Xanax? Maybe some Hennessy? I've got plenty...

Sick? Oh?

Being Healthy, Educated, and Confident Is Damaging To The System
- random Canadian dude, "Sicko"

If you haven't seen Sicko, you need to.

Despite all evidence I'm shown during work hours, I am constantly confused by the complete inability we Americans have to change our system. It's not like I don't know why...

We work too hard, we eat shitty stuff, and we generally just don't take care of ourselves and each other. That alone, when you're a child, can get you removed from your parents. As an adult, it's seen as being responsible. How is it responsible to saddle yourself, let alone your coworkers, with the debt accrued through ill health and then tell them (or yourself) that you're just not working hard enough?

Even as I type this, I'm getting tired. I can feel myself growing nauseated with my own words. "You know this shit already. Most people do." I say to myself.

Yet, every morning, I still eat Lucky Charms. I'd lie, but the days of giving a fuck about what people think have long passed for me. My addiction is mine alone... and the intervention, while helpful, still did not rid me of my jones for high fructose corn syrup (thanks, Mom, for the pamphlets, though)

Is it because we're just weak? Maybe we all just have no spine. We're all sick and crazy and violent and willing to watch the Emperor strut around in his birthday suit while drinking four dollar coffee-infused milkshakes because we're just... gaping maws of consumerized punkass?

I mean, true, we have serious problems because we usually say absolutely nothing about them until its so bad that we have to watch documentaries about them... but that couldn't be the cause...

No, we're possessed. That's right! That's got to be it! Despite current information that suggests that only 23 percent of Americans think our President is doing a good job, we are clearly forged from the Devil. Nah... I'm thinkin of Cheney... (rimshot)

But what's even weirder is that our President actually gets that tiny speck of a part right. I said it: He actually exercises. He rode bikes with Lance Armstrong and didn't even need to call it quits early. Lance even said he was impressed. That's a guy in good shape.

He maintains a pretty good diet for a guy that can have any food that he wants. Sure, his home state is the inventor of the McGriddle sandwich and actually has specialized hamburgers from McDonald's months before they become East Coast testmarketed, but he really doesn't indulge in them. In fact, insiders in the administration say that he'd have his wife cook for him if they didn't have a cook (and Laura makes a damn good vegetable soup, so I hear.) That sounds damn healthy!

Not only that.. but you do know he's in bed by nine, right? He's also an early riser, which is linked to all sorts of research about brain activity as being a sign of good mental health (holy shit... I can't believe I just wrote that) and in addition, a sign that your heart is in good shape... must be all that exercise.

Oh, and let's not forget that he knows when its time to take a vacation. He spends downtime cutting wood on the ranch or even taking restful stays at Camp David. His wife and kids go sometimes but sometimes he even goes alone. He might take work with him, but more than half of his day is either spent recuperating or in some form of moderate or low-impact exercise.

For a guy that looks 43, he's actually just turned 61. If I didn't know that I'd be murdered just for saying it, I'd probably equate him to the French in his ability to --- (sound of bullet shattering glass)... ahem... ah... anyway, moving on!

So, to put it mildly, our POTUS takes great care of himself. Why does he think its so unimportant for us to be able to do the same? Why would he allow members of his party to then crush all voices that cry out for better health care and education and medicine and... well, just dignity and respect?

Greed? Maybe. Fear? Definitely. Because we let him?

(sound of shattering glass, again.)

Reality Sandwiches

I don't want to play the fat guy or the friend for the rest of my life.
-Sean Astin

I think fat guys, hell even fat girls, identify with this statement in terms of their life.

Hollywood, in many ways, is a filmed representation of society's caste system. We declare certain people unfit for reproduction, employment, and even entitlement to the basic rights afforded to us by the constitution, by displaying their image in a movie theater or on stage.

There was a reason that the blaxploitation era
had mythical black heroes that killed Nazis while having sex with beautiful women... true, most of it was exploitative hot garbage, but the idea behind it was that they wanted to show images of black people that didn't show them as fools or pawns of white people. As a result, an industry sprang up out of it... and slowly black people have gained more and more equity in showbusiness (much more needs to be done, but still...)

Fat people are still easy targets. There are entire movies that exist just to make fun of those silly people who can't get off their fat asses and stop eating cheeseburgers. But since America (and most of the world) considers the movies to be the truth, let me enlighten you with a few tidbits:

- Fat people know that they're fat. Skinny people are not playing Merlin to their young Arthur, instructing them on their lot in life as a fat person. Contrary to popular belief, we have eyes.
- Fat people aren't all the same. Your diet plan might work for your 52 year old mother, but not for me, a 27 year old guy. Suggestions are, while certainly helpful for you and your discomfort with my "situation", completely unnecessary. Unless you're a medical expert that I'm paying or someone I asked for advice, stop speaking or change the subject.
- Fat people pay money to try and help themselves out of their problem. Its incredibly expensive, too, but its worth it if you can identify what is wrong with what you're doing (or what's wrong with your body or mind) and make some strides towards making things better. But...
- Some fat people aren't unhealthy at all. Sometimes they just have rounded bodies. Sometimes they're just short. Sometimes they're just big and tall. Accept it: people are gonna look different. Love them for who they are and not what you think you can change them into (and that goes way beyond body image. Maybe then we wouldn't have a 56 percent divorce rate.) But also...
- Fat people can be beautiful. Camryn Manheim could get a ring from me. Kelly Price could get one too. Faith Evans and Missy Elliott frequently occupied my dreams in high school and college, and I still jones for Faith (Missy, too, but not as much as Faith.) Toccara from America's Next Top Model could convince me to do... well, anything.
- Finally, fat people don't need your approval or permission to live. So don't feel like you somehow have to help or save them from their fat asses. We'll figure it out. In the meantime, you can work on why its so hard for you to look at a fat person and acknowledge that they're human beings.

Divination Through Spaghetti-o's

As a black man, sometimes I get this feeling that I've returned to the days of rising colonial expansion. Back in the day, they used to shoot whoever wouldn't convert to the religion brought to the heathens from the missionaries. "Savage" they'd call you...

What about God is a bargaining chip? What about God is a political statement or even delineation? I find it strange that every conversation I have, when dating, is first highlighted with not just a question about my religious faith (I'm more than non-denominational... I refuse to take a side.) but a judgement about my ability to be a good person. Sure, we're trying to decide who is right for us... but if its not an answer you're used to hearing, why the sudden need for clarification.

So far, I've had five dates end abruptly after I say "I'm agnostic." Two of them were because those fools decided that atheist and agnostic mean the same thing (they don't) and two decided that I wasn't "what they were looking for" and we parted ways amicably. But the last told me, angrily, "A black man without faith? I hope you're ready for what comes ahead." Am I about to be hit by a bus? Is the entire Spanish Inquisition Squad from Monty Python around the corner?

Some of this is my own bad judgement. I should be looking for people I relate to instead of qualities that I can identify with (for me, that's been a tough distinction.) And I'll be the first to admit, agnosticism as a bent is fairly difficult to admit to people... how can you say that on the matter of the most extreme of belief systems you are undecided to the point of defining yourself as "non-committal." I mean, the guy who invented the word used to sharpen his teeth so he would have fangs and tried to levitate lakes while high on LSD. Sometimes I have to wonder, Am I really crazy? Is that why I just can't say "God exists and I believe" out loud without laughing?

Or maybe I think that God is undefinable. Maybe I hold that the older mystics and elders thought that just saying God was expelling breath and to say the name of God was to know the universe, and I just don't know the universe well enough at 27. Maybe I think that God is really a Dog. Maybe I think God is in water like the older proto-Native American tribes who worshipped rivers and blocks of ice as evidence of God made real. Maybe I think that God is nothing at all but still real, existing outside of my ability to sense.

Or maybe I just Think and hope one day I know the answer, but until then I'll just concentrate on making life livable for my friend's new babies (congratulations, dude) by fighting the good fight. Yeah... maybe.

Burning Writer's Block

"And one day the factory sprang to life again..."
- Grandpa Joe