there is a barbershop under my building.
two of the three barbers try to get at me everyday.
one of them has successfully befriended one of my roommates.
they are such good friends that he randomly dropped his son off around 8pm.
mckenzie.
he cried at the door for a solid ten minutes.
i sat on the floor and spoke to him.
he continued to cry.
i offered my watercolors and pastels.
he continued to cry.
after about ten more minutes, he peeped his head into my doorway.
he let me take off his elmo bookbag and his jacket.
we sat on the floor.
i showed him the pastels.
the water for the paintbrushes.
and the paper we were to use.
he didn't talk much.
he sat on one end of my sketchbook...and i on the other.
he came over to my end...and began to paint on my side.
he then dumped the pastels into the water.
i laughed it off...
told him it was wrong...
and showed him the home of the pastels...their box.
he reached for the water...
and i moved it from his reach.
he threw my pastels across the living room.
i stared at him.
he picked up my boot.
and threw it.
he flung a pillow.
he then jumped on top of the remote control.

i packed up my supplies.
told him to chill out...
and let him have his space.
this little boy flared up into a giant.
his body became tense
and he stomped around the house
declaring what was his.
he screamed at my roommate to shutup.
he kicked whatever was in his way.

he was the incredible hulk.
i lifted his little body.
and sat him on the couch.
he kicked the air and screamed
that he wanted his father.

i went into my room.
when i came back out.
i asked for a hug.
he stood in front of me
and stared at my knees.
i bent down
flung his arms around my shoulders
and squeezed his small body.
i pulled him back
looked into his face
and he wouldn't meet my eyes.

"i think he is bipolar"
says my roommate.

he's pretty normal to me.

i too wanted some attention tonight

intuit. i believe.

kwesi is a peculiar guy.
pam is a particular girl.
we take pictures and dress folks.
our work's gonna come from outta this world.

-fin

........

some school projects i preferred working alone.

now at twenty four, i understand that no solo project is truly solo.

...mine probably won't be. i need community.

i need help.

its on repeat.

"please make a movie with me"
he got up shaking his head.
"nahhh...i'm not into that"
"no one is ever gonna see it. this is just for me"
i watched his back as he walked over to his laptop.

he began to play some song.
after about 20 seconds i registered radiohead's videotape.
i laughed.
he did too.
he was visibly amused by how long it took me to make the connection.

we turned the lights off.

i stood up against my bedroom door.
he stepped between my legs and leaned into me.
his movements were slow.
my eyes were closed.
i felt his nose on my collarbone.
he slightly pulled back and traced my neckline from shoulder to shoulder.
i arched my back, pushing my hips into his.

we met.
we barely swayed to the background cadence.

he held the top of my waist.
i lowered my head into his neck.
i had melted...
he was no longer actually touching me.
and i still felt him.
we stood there. lying up.
he forcefully pushed me up against the door.
he moved forward, pressing harder into me.
his lips brushed across mine.

....on videotape.
....on videotape.

the air around us was magic.

i wanted to hear the drums forever...
i hoped thom yorke wouldn't stop...

but he did.
and so did he.

"when i'm at the pearly gates...this will be on my videotape"
....for sure.

grow up.

we sat across from one another.

we've known each other for about two years now.

but i only know so little about him.

"i don't read a lot of books. i hate having other people's thoughts placed on me.
i'd rather live it first. life is my education".

i chuckled at his organic approach and his dramatic delivery.

i asked him a lot of random questions.

do you believe in God?
do you have any favorites?
do you write?
what do your parents do?
are you happy?
who do you think is the best american designer?
what city have you enjoyed living in the most?
do you think your parents are proud of you?

"for what? i haven't done shit. my parents love me"

his every response was spoken with such conviction and certainty.

........

i need to think more often.
to simply sit still and think.
formulate conclusions for me.
tonight i realized that i have concrete and clear opinions about very little.

i want to be a more efficient researcher.
i need to be.


........


no identity crisis here.

she's tall.
she's pretty.
she's witty.

and he loves her.
quickly.
well...i dunno that he loves her so much.
he is infatuated by her ways.
he chooses to be near her.


not that he was so much seeking her...
because he was already involved with another woman...
but now that he's here, he wants to stay in this new world.

she welcomes his company.
so he happily sticks around.

she touches him.
he turns around and touches his original lover.

whimsical dorothy parker is alone in her world.
again.

i have a confession...

by 1988
"even my conditioning was conditioned".
only
wanna-be's mattered.
i had goals at an early age.



...or maybe i was just ridiculously fast.

nashville, tn

this weekend jesus took my hand.
i shuttered because it had been a while since we had touched.

we walked along mountainous terrain.

up and down.
up and down.
up and down.

i arrived overdressed, so he encouraged me to shed layers.
i did, and i felt lighter.
...a lot less heated.

he made it a point to keep our fingers interlocked.
even in moments when i felt smothered, and wanted
to slip my hand out of his, he kept me close.
by saturday morning i was done trying to pull away.

...and my head was perfectly clear:


i was granted grace. again.
singing robins woke me up each morning.
none of nina's words were misunderstood.
i sat with a past lover and remembered why i loved him.
elders screamed the urgency for my work.

everyday jesus sat me in front of beautiful bay windows
and encouraged me to look at all of my life.

i left with this

for the first time ever...i actually held my dreams.
how special.

happy valentines day.

i guess i feel happy.
...i'm not crying. and i'm not cussing.
i laughed a lot today...even broke out into
dance a couple of times.
i'm happy.

......


tonight reminded me of the scene in the color purple
when suge avery follows her spirit, and leads her
fellow sinners to the church (with the dressed up sinners)
across the pond.

the Spirit travels and does not commit to a certain
space or location.

it sits among petals on the stems of flowers.
it jumps up and down chords on a bass guitar.
it lays in the bottom of a homeless man's cup.

...it has the potential to be anywhere at any given moment.
that is God.

i am more than certain that i heard God tonight.

......



"
wasted time...loving you.
wasted time...wanting you.
wasted time...loving you.
wasted time...wanting you.
"

it is love.
and not a millisecond was wasted.
she wrote it...and i don't even think she honestly agrees.

.......

bitter.
God is love. love is God.
i don't understand why things happen,
and now i am pissed at this outcome.
i have fought through painful praise.
believing that this had to take
place...for me to be better.
bitter.
but better.
that doesn't work.

i cannot be bitter and better.
i refuse to be bitter.

...i don't refuse.

i accept my present, and try
not to look back.
the tension in my neck hurts.
muscles are straining to stay
focused on what is ahead.
no turning back.

no questions.
?
i guess that this love
surrounds me...its so deep
that i really cannot understand
it. and it is hurting me.
love is hurting.

its physical.
i need to be healed.

...and with this, i cannot pretend.

.......
so again. i say. happy valentines day.


i'm loving.
i'm loving me.

....i'm trying.

i'm on a mission...

i can still go back...

on saturday shE said
"love is a revolution"
and i can't seem to get those
words out of my head.


on sunday sHe "i just have to
make a concious decision to
respond out of love".


i used to be such a hard lover.
...i want to return to my old ways.

i choose to silently stand still today.

....yup. just like that.
and then you can ALL clap for me when i'm done.

superbowl sunday jr.

1. 13 lexington between classon and grand (that's right sunflower...SAME BUILDING)
2. exposed brick
3. track lighting
4. hardwood floors
5. ounces of that OOOOH WEEEEEE!!!!! (ounces...and i sat alone)
6. moet. korbel. cristol. greygoose. beringer (para moi)
7. dj "______" on the ones and twos
8. recording studio in the back room

9. i just attended the most hood + fabulous party ever.
....LOVED IT!

10. the home team won. (a moment i will never forget...kinda like the redskins circa superbowl 26)



bonus: patience is a virtue

superbowl sunday.

1. praise God for NYU dental...

2. do something because you can...http://havefundogood.blogspot.com/2008/02/kenya-what-can-one-person-do.html

3. i swear, this is the most entertaining campaign EVER! (i'm not mad...i live for music and colors)
...i guess that means that i've gotten got. hmmm...music and colors lead to my arousal. sigh... (kudos to the campaign team)

4. i'm tired of feeling confused.

....

she told me that it was unrealistic if i set no standards for my friends.
i think it seems healthy.
no expectations.
she thinks i'm not thinking.

....she's right.

...

it's official...everyone is on board.





i hope i still remember these folks in ten months.