blessed, alive, thankful...in that order

"Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?"-The Shadow

To say that my Thanksgiving morning started out like any other would be far from the truth.  In fact, it would be an outright lie.  I awoke to a day that was mixed with turmoil, stirred by animosity and bubbling with potential violence.  Needless to say, I tried my best to carry on with the day as though none of these factors bore any weight.  So foolish of me to ignore the omens.

I was up before the sun and made my way to the basement laundry room of my building. My thought was- it's a holiday and not yet 6 a.m. so no one should be down there.  I'll be in and out in no time.  I opted for the closeness of my building rather than lug three heavy bags across the courtyard to my car and a nearby laundromat.  When I got there- it was dead silent. An eerie, early morning quiet that makes you feel you're the only one in the world who's up and about.  No machines going. No dryers tumbling.  Deserted.

Then I saw him. Scruffy and unshaven.  A nest of matted dirty blond hair topped his head.  His hands looked meaty and swollen.  He said, "Hey. How's it going?"  I reply, "Good Morning."  I began loading the machines when it struck me that he was down there but  not using the laundry facilities.  I engage him.  "Are you waiting for the machines?"  He looked skittish.  "No, I'm waiting for him to pick me up for work. It's cold out there, you know?" Immediately I analyze his words.  Why would he say 'him' like I'm supposed to know who he's talking about?  And if he lived in the building, there would be no need for him to wait outside in the cold.  I nod. I didn't want to be rude.  Just because someone looks unkempt doesn't necessarily mean they're up to no good.  He asks me for a light. I don't usually carry matches but I had them.  I don't usually carry a screwdriver either, but I had one that morning. I hand him the book of matches. He lights up under the No Smoking sign.  As bold as I am, it's something I've never done in that basement.  It rubs me the wrong way. I leave. 

Forty minutes after the wash cycle, I make my way back downstairs.  Thankfully, the sun is up.  At first glance, it feels like I'm alone.  As I step in a little further, I see a figure crouching behind the huge dryer closest to the wall. He peeks out at me then walks out into the open.  Asks me for another light.  Says he can't believe he lost the one I gave him.  At this point, all friendliness is out the window. I tell him no.  Sternly.  All the while I'm wondering what the hell he was doing hiding behind the dryer, but I say nothing.  He leaves through a back door that locks automatically once closed.  As I'm pulling clothes from the washing machine I hear a knock at the same door two minutes later.  I ignore it because anyone who's allowed to come through there- more than likely has a key.  Deep down, I know it's him again.  I pretend not to hear the knocking but he walks to the window across from where I'm standing and points to the door. 

I hold up one finger as if to say 'Gimme a second'.  He saunters back over to the door.  I take the screwdriver from my bag and slide it into the back pocket of my jeans.  Against my better judgment I walk over and crack the door slightly with my left hand; my right hand firmly gripping the handle of the Philips behind me.  Oddly enough, I'm cool as a water fountain but ready to jab seven inches of metal repeatedly through his neck at the first sign of foul play.  He starts out by saying that he's staying with his mother right now.  (In my mind I'm saying God bless him if a man this beat up still has a living mother somewhere) Then he proceeds to hold a wallet out towards me.  He claims that I'm welcome to hold on to it to ensure he returns- if I can help him out with seven dollars.  Again, I internally dissect his words.  He didn't ask for $1.  He didn't ask for $5. Such a peculiar and specific dollar amount.  Drugs perhaps? Now, it's been said that I got most of my education by watching movies.  And I've always playfully disputed that.  But, if not for Catch Me If You Can with Leonardo DiCaprio, I might have fallen for this wallet trick that is supposed to instantly gain your trust.  I mean, who's going to leave their wallet with you and not come back, right?  Wrong.  That can be anyone's wallet.  A dead man's wallet for all I know. "I have no cash." I say it brusquely while closing the door on his face.

Through the window, I watch him walk by to the front of the building.  I can only see from his torso to just below his knees.  He does something strange.  He splays his fingers wide apart and then clenches them into a fist. Repeating the move until he's out of my sight.  I find the entire episode unnerving but I'm not shaken for some reason.  When I'm sure that he's gone, I return to loading my wet clothes into the two dryers. I load up the second one, the one I saw him stooping behind and shut the huge circular door.  With it comes the loudest clamour. It's heart-stopping and for the first time that morning, I'm startled.

I look to the right of the dryer where the noise came from and see the biggest pipe wrench I've ever seen in my life.  Over 18 inches long.  I pick it up and it seems to weigh at least twenty pounds.  I drop it.  Replay the scene in my head as I realize his hands were on that wrench just ten minutes ago.  My hands start to shake at the thoughts of how it could have gone.  My skull split by one blow with his weapon of choice.  Blood. Everywhere. Bludgeoned to death the same way my aunt was in our native Trinidad a few years back.  No one knew I was down there.  No one could have known.  Even though I was ready to fight for my life or even take his if need be, I still shuddered at what could have been.

Right then and there, on that day...I truly gave thanks.  No, not an ordinary Thanksgiving at all.  Not in the least.

Where Did The Night Go

Where Did The Night Go - Gil Scott Heron

Long ago the clock washed midnight away
Bringing the dawn
Oh God, I must be dreaming
Time to get up again
And time to start up again
Pulling on my socks now
Should have been asleep
When I was sitting there drinking beer
And trying to start another letter to you
Don’t know how many times I dreamed to write again last night
Should’ve been asleep when I turned the stack of records over
and over
So I wouldn’t be up by myself
Where did the night go?
Should go to sleep now
And say fuck a job and money
Because I spend it all on unlined paper and can’t get past
“Dear Baby, how are you?”
Brush my teeth and shave
Look outside…sky is dark
Think it may rain
Where did
Where did
Where did



Been asking myself the same exact thing, Gil. The same exact thing...




Photo Courtesy: Giora Eshkol

Throwback Thursdays

Peace People.  I know it's Thursday, but I'm also well aware that this is no ordinary Thursday. It's Thanksgiving Day.  So I'm pretty sure that many of you will be reading this days after you've stuffed yourself on turkey, watched some football, drank way too much and got into it with your dysfunctional relatives.  (At least, that's what my Thanksgiving may probably consist of. ) But I digress.  Since this is tragically recognized as an eating holiday- rather than a day of reverence for the indigenous people of America, I'll go with the flow and post a video in keeping with that sentiment: Greed. Shout out to Nice and Smooth for coming up with a joint that I can appreciate down to the last detail on a day like today.  People can be so greedy.  It's a shame. But this is a reminder to everyone, that you can't have your Cake and Eat It Too.  Hope you've all had your fill.  Uno.

Six Days Remix

This one has always been a strange favorite lurking in my music collection.  Surprisingly, it has very little to do with Mos Def's involvement with this tune. The song haunts me.  The sentiment that tomorrow may bring the worst- but it may be better than we we're dealing with today...that's deep.  Hope is such a fantastic thing. It really is.  Especially in times of war. Plus, the very first line uttered sounds a lot like Gil Scott Heron, but I can't be too sure.  Anyway, enjoy the video and lyrics.  Maybe you'll feel me on this one and maybe you won't.  You still can't take anything away from it, though. Peace.

Six Days Remix - DJ Shadow featuring Mos Def

I get a feeling there's gonna be a riot

I don't read the newspapers, because they all have... ugly prints.

Bring it ON!
Bring it ON!
Bring it on cuz there's gon be some shit tonight!

At the starting of the week
At summit talks you'll hear them speak
It's only Monday
Negotiations breaking down
See those leaders start to frown
It's sword and gun day

Tomorrow never comes until it's too late

Come come come come come with it (x2)

You could be sitting taking lunch
The news will hit you like a punch
It's only Tuesday (What time is it? )
You never thought we'd go to war
After all the things we saw
It's April Fools' day (What time is it? )

Tomorrow never comes until it's too late
Tomorrow never comes until it's too late

[Mos Def]
Tomorrow is another day
Today is another bomb
Tomorrow is another day
Today is another bomb
Tomorrow is another day
Today is another bomb
Tomorrow is another day
Today is another
(Boom boom ba ba ba ba boom ba ba ba ba boom ba ba ba ba ba) (x4)

Fiyah!!!
Lick off a
SHOT!
Escalation
Never Station
Generation
Separation
Situation
Dissipation
Shot!
Another shot another shot
The tender make the pressure pop
The heart is cold the gun is hot (Shot)
I'm not sure if they done or not
I'm not sure if they wanna stop
The gun is cold the blood is hot (Shot)
(Sha Sha Sha Sha Sha Sha Shot)
The hearts are weak the guns are not

You hear a whistling overhead
Are you alive or are you dead?
It's only Thursday (What time is it? )
You feel the shaking on the ground
A million candles burn around
Is it your birthday? (What time is it? )

Tomorrow never comes until it's too late
(Get tomorr' on the phone Tryna be smart Get tomorr' on the phone)
Tomorrow never comes until it's too late (I need to see tomorr' Tryna reach tomorr')
Think tomorrows come .
I think it's too late

ANOTHER DAY!


Boom boom ba ba ba ba boom ba ba ba ba boom ba ba ba ba ba

Tomorrow is another day (x2)

Bring it ON!
Bring it ON!
Bring it on cuz there's gon be some shit tonight!

No Business Like Show Business

"Kid, ya gonna be large!!!"

                                             

Underground.  Underestimated. Undervalued. Golden Era.  Those are the words that come to mind when I think of EPMD. Never in the history of Hip Hop has there been a duo who stood the test of time like these two. And yet, I still don't feel like they get the proper credit they deserve.  Last week, I was blessed with a live performance by them at the Knitting Factory- and it was everything I expected from this legendary pair.  Eric Sermon and Parrish Smith have always literally been about their business.  Check the resume: Strictly Business (1988), Unfinished Business (1989), Business As Usual (1990), Business, Never Personal (1992) Back in Business (1997) Out of Business (1999) We Mean Business (2008).  And nothing has changed.  They still  make it their biz to command a crowd without being extra. They give the people what they want. No theatrics. No pyrotechnics.  Just dope beats and lyrics coming out of Long Island, NY.

Of course they did what they do best. Rough Rugged and Raw.  Eric and Parrish launched into Please Listen to My Demo and the hits didn't stop coming.  Backed by the equally legendary DJ Scratch on the turntables, they ran through their catalog of singles that hits just has hard as it did back in '88 and beyond.  There's something about how the beat to Strictly Business starts up that just takes you somewhere.  I looked around at the sea of faces and watched as they recited every lyric in sync with them.  A part of me was waiting for LL to jump out during Rampage, or even Redman for the Headbanger but it wasn't even necessary.  They held it down- just the two of them. Going line for line on joints like You Gots To Chill, Crossover, Jane and So Wat Chu Sayin', they haven't lost their touch.  Not by a long shot.  That effortless flow and the easy way they exchange verses comes from years of really knowing one another and knowing what works. They are tried and true crowd pleasers because they've mastered that formula. And they understand how important it is for that brand of Hip Hop to remain relevant.  The Green Eyed Bandit kept it a hundred when he said onstage that he's not a broke ass hater.  Make no mistake. It's just that most of what you hear nowadays is wack.  That's how he launched into Da Joint. And I quote, "It's not about me fallin' off. I'm good. It's not that I don't have money.  Matta fact...I make a million bucks..." Ooh wee...that was hot.

Still, it would have been nice to hear the classic Gold Digger before they departed. Or even the lesser known It's Going Down off the Juice Soundtrack- just for the die hards such as myself.  I mean...they were among the patrons gettin' stuck up by Blizzard in the bar at like 11 in the morning.  Ha! Remember that?  Shout out to my peoples, Dinco D who I saw up in there. I'll be back in the building next month to check his performance with Leaders of the New School  and Son of Beserk.  All in all, it was a really good show. They closed with Just Like Music off Eric's solo mission and everyone left satisified. It made me realize that when it comes to Eric and Parrish Making Dollars, I'll always make it MY BUSINESS to show love. 

Now press play...

Throwback Thursdays

Big budget videos are nothing new to Hip Hop.  In fact, they are so widespread nowadays that folks hardly notice just how many wasteful dollars are put behind these onscreen images of excess.  It's just a given. The custom cars. Helicopters. Yachts. Plush locales, etc.  Don't forget about wardrobe, hair and make-up for the slew of video vixens who decorate the scenery.  All of which costs a pretty penny. But This Bug remembers when it wasn't a given.  I remember when some of the best songs had simple videos that didn't employ all the smoke and mirrors to wow the audience. The music spoke for itself.  And don't talk to me about how it was oh-so-different when it came to bragging on material things. Case and point: Today's Throwback.  In 1989 Special Ed debuted with the album Youngest In Charge. At  just 16 years old, this Brooklynite had a flair for the finer things and the lyricism to match.  His imagination ran wild as he painted a picture of an opulent lifestyle. We knew full and well it was an exaggeration. But so what?  It captured us and it was dope. Period.  You could picture in your mind all the luxuries he rhymed about. Without the benefit of a huge budget, Special Ed had a video that remains a staple; nothing short of a bonafide Hip Hop classic.

Take a good look at the vid.  No lush backdrop of Tahiti. No shiny new cars.  He didn't need anything of that to validate his existence. He's in a junkyard talking about owning 74 Honda scooters, yo.  How fly is that? And peep the Potato Alligator Soufflé. It's a dish of mashed potatoes with a toy dinosaur tail stuck in the middle. Hilarious...and imaginative. This joint came long before the need to impress the masses with mostly unattainable objects that is so rampant in today's music- at least visually anyway. The Roots went on to spoof this sad trend in What They Do years later.  But the Magnificent One made it cool to not have any of these things while articulating what made him so fly. This Bug's favorite line? "I never lost cuz I'm the boss / I never will cuz I'm still / The champion - Chief one won't lose until I choose / which I won't cuz I don't retreat / I run you over like a truck and leave you dead in the street / You're invitin' me, a Titan to a battle, why? I don't need your respect cuz / I Got It Made." 

And just like that- he got mine. Nuff 'respect.

Green Light

I miss coming and going

as I please.
Stop. Go. Stop. Stop.
Go.Go. Go.
I miss having enough change

to do simple things,

like buy myself a silly 
pair of slippers.
I miss the days of sleeping late

and catching early movies.

I miss talking to my father

across a cup of instant coffee.

It was no Starbucks but it was just...good.
I miss logging on and writing to my heart's content.

I miss the days of early December

when nothing mattered
but lunch.
Now everything does.
Every bit of minutia making shreds
out of my peace
like ribbons.
Like pretty frayed crosscut ribbons
curling on the wind.
Now my days are filled with wondering

where the time will come from.

Where the money will come from.

Where the peace of mind

will come from.

Today

I'm giving myself the green light
to start it all over again
because
I
miss
me.

Four Women Revisited

I love a good tribute. Some people, myself included, say that certain songs should be left alone if the cover cannot do it justice.  But every now and then- I can appreciate when artists pay homage with respect and without trying to replicate the original.  They bring their own style to the song while staying true to the essence of it.  Well that's exactly what Kelly Price, Marsha Ambrosius, Jill Scott and Ledisi did for Nina Simone's Four Women.  Check out their tribute on BET's Black Girls Rock 2010.



Now, let's not forget the original from the Queen herself. Nina's version has no peer. It's melancholy.  Truth bearing.  Unflinching. Unapologetic.  She introduces each woman with grace even if their lives sound graceless. Life is hard but they are not victims.  They are not martyrs. She allows us to meet four women who have lived through remarkable circumstances. It's one of her crowning achievements and let's be honest; pluck any song from Ms. Simone's catalog and you can say the same for any one of them.  I dedicate this to my dear friend, the Lioness, who told me she held the honor of being Sweet Thing in a dance interpretation of Four Women when she was a little girl.  Such a grown up theme for them to do- and I know she nailed it. 



Apart from a remake, I think it's astounding what Talib Kweli did with Nina's song.  His interpretation is called For Women and I love it because it is in fact for us. Lyrically, he goes beyond the surface. He goes beyond the names and colorfully illustrates what makes these four women who they are.  Aunt Sarah.  Saffronia.  Sweet Thing.  Peaches.  Their stories are expounded upon. Their histories and realities are brought to life in the most articulate and esteemed manner.  It's deep. It's a labor of love and it's beautiful.

Respect to a true gem, Ms. Nina Simone

Throwback Thursdays

Hello B-Boys and B-Girls. This Bug has a very special treat for you today.  I'm pulling a video from my own personal VHS archives today.  Yes, I had this video on tape and can recall very clearly which video came right after it. It was Understand Me, Vanessa by Antexx which I already featured when I first started Throwback Thursdays.  Go watch it over here when you're done with today's feature.  Why not? Anyway, 1991 was an interesting year for Hip Hop.  I can actually mark that as a cusp where conscious music like this, street chronicles (think Kool G Rap)  and even party music (think Heavy D) shared the same space and time. But none of it was irrelevant. It all had its place. I wish I could say the same for what passes for Hip Hop today. (Sigh) So I bring to you today, one of the most slept on posse cuts of all time.  The line up is something you're not likely to ever see again, realistically.  Harmony, Kid Capri, Freddie Foxxx, LL Cool J, MC Lyte, Queen Latifah, KRS-One, Ms. Melodie, Big Daddy Kane and Run-DMC joined forces to bring food for thought to the masses with H.E.A.L (Human Education Against Lies) Every emcee seemed to complement one another on this single that still is so very important when you listen to the lyrics.  LL is noticeably missing from the video but that's okay. The video still evokes good feelings for me.  Summertime in NYC.  The Do The Right Thing poster behind Kid Capri.  The classic Jeep. The fashion, the vibe, the messages and sense of community. This Bug's favorite line? "Everybody rise...as I present to a jet black crowd, What it's like to be black and proud..." Call me stuck if you want-but I'll never let go of such a positive time.  So glad I hit record that day. So, so glad.

Bug Behaving Badly

Where there's smoke...

Lately I've been tempted to be a bad Bug.  A very, very bad Bug.  This list of misdeeds includes but is not limited to: cursing out the driver of a utility van that was headed straight for me and my little hooptie, waging an all out war for approximately 24 straight hours with my lover and flicking my tongue at some old man in a car Manolo (from Scarface) style for no decent reason. What? He shouldn't have admonished my driving.  He's lucky I didn't give his pacemaker a kick start by licking my window. It's my way of settling the score since I wouldn't flip the bird to an elderly person.  C'mon, I have some home training. Then there's the other bad behavior I've indulged in lately.  Boredom + Camera Phone = Reasons I should never go into teaching or politics.  But that's another story.

I can't explain it- this recent odd behavior.  It just happens every now and then.  I'm a good egg for the most part but once in a while...I can be a deviled egg. Hot, spicy and way more interesting than your average.  Call me Paprika the Wild Child. I can be what some may call a handful. The scary thing about this- is that I literally check out while holding minimal accountability for my actions.  I'm fully aware that my actions may exact a less than a desirable reaction but at the moment, I just don't care.  So much so, that even if I had an entire bag of fucks- I could not give one while I'm in flip mode.  Seriously.

There's a part of me that takes a deep, dark satisfaction in casting off  the kinder, gentler Bug and unleashing a wanton force to be reckoned with.  The warrior in me thrives on it. I trade the halo for the horns, guard my grill, knuckle up and let the chips fall. No apologies. Until it catches up to me- I'll continue with my road rage induced diatribes, petulant partner practices and maybe only pixelated versions will hit Media Takeout if my Blackberry ever gets hacked. Whatever. As Method Man so eloquently stated, "We ain't acrobats but we flip on occasion."  I feel him on that one.  Hey, at least I can admit it.

Sleep to Dream

All my life I've admired people who have dreamed about flying.  Mostly because up until last week, I truly couldn't relate.  It seemed that those people had a mental freedom that I lacked. They weren't afraid.  Perhaps before last week, I couldn't fathom soaring above it all.  But in the dream, that's just what I did.  Everything looked small.  Like those intricate little villages you see around Christmas time with miniature trains chugging through them.  I sailed through the sky with wind enveloping me and coasting me along.  I didn't fall.  I didn't falter.  I just flew through and above clouds without a worry in the world.  I know better than to think it may happen again. I don't even need it again.  If it does, great.  If it doesn't, at least a I touched that feeling of being completely free and unencumbered.  Light as the invisible feathers that carried me through an element that I'm totally unacquainted with.  It was beautiful. Maybe in waking life, I've risen above something I was incapable of before. Who knows? Sleep brought me a new treasure other than much needed rest. When I awoke I was looking into a  familiar face. Another dream began. I'm awake now though and like Fiona- I don't go to sleep to dream.  

I tell you how I feel, but you don't care
I say tell me the truth, but you don't dare
You say love is a hell you cannot bear
And I say gimme mine back and then go there - for all I care

I got my feet on the ground
And I don't go to sleep to dream
You got your head in the clouds
And you're not at all what you seem
This mind, this body
And this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways
So don't forget what I told you
Don't come around, I got my own hell to raise

I have never been so insulted in all my life
I could swallow the seas to wash down all this pride
First you run like a fool just to be at my side
And now you run like a fool
But you just run to hide, and I can't abide

I got my feet on the ground
And I don't go to sleep to dream
You got your head in the clouds
And you're not at all what you seem
This mind, this body
And this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways
So don't forget what I told you
Don't come around, I got my own hell to raise

Don't make it a big deal, don't be so sensitive
We're not playing a game anymore
You don't have to be so defensive
Don't you plead me your case, don't bother to explain
Don't even show me your face, ''cause it's a crying shame
Just go back to the rock from under which you came
Take the sorrow you gave and all the stakes you claim -
And don't forget the blame

I got my feet on the ground
And I don't go to sleep to dream
You got your head in the clouds
And you're not at all what you seem
This mind, this body
And this voice cannot be stifled by your deviant ways
So don't forget what I told you
Don't come around, I got my own hell to raise

Throwback Thursdays

Peace People.  Today's Throwback has no history lesson behind it.  I have no personal soliloquy or specific memory that attaches itself to this song.  All I have today is reverence for good music and a special dedication.  This one goes out to a dear friend and amazing person who had a convergence with this artist as they put one in the air.  As he tells it, Pete was just a modest and cool, down-to-earth person who hardly seemed aware of how his talents has touched others.  Which is kinda cool, since the person this joint is dedicated to possesses the same quality of  humble and unassuming character- while inspiring the lives of others in a way only he can.  This is for one of my favorite people who taught me to get it while the gettin' is good but to not rush anything. He shared this with me: 'Everything takes time but most people can't wait.' It's just a matter of time.  Just one of the many jewels I've been blessed with by a true Soul Survivor. And I give thanks. One Love.

Time and Space and In Between

You know that saying, "Time flies when you're having fun." ? Why doesn't anyone ever mention that it also flies when you're not having fun. That it flies or drags according to how busy you are and how much you have to get done. I've been dealing with that a lot lately. I'm a working stiff now. It's a far cry from last year when I had time to do what I wanted to do since I was unemployed. Sure, I had less money- but the time to myself and freedom was priceless. I could go to Hip-Hop shows. Sleep late. Write. Food shop. I could actually make spontaneous plans (as oxymoronic as that sounds). I could blog at my leisure. *sniff sniff* That's what I miss the most. It's funny- I was talking to someone the other day about time and money and how subjective they both are depending on the circumstances. Take for example five dollars. Five dollars is not a lot of money. Not if it came to say...buying a car. Shit, gimme two if that's the case. But am I going to pay five dollars for a Jolly Rancher? Hell to the no. The same theory is relevant with time. Five minutes at the DMV is akin to a wet dream. But I've heard five minutes of an asthma attack is the equivalent of five unbearable hours. So it's all relative. Anyway, read on if you want to know what This Bug has been doing with her time and moola when they both flow a little freely.

Last year it was Breakfast at Tiffany's. This year it was Kill Bill. I don't care what anyone says. Halloween is fun and I'm not too old for it. This one was a doozie. It involved a lot dying and sewing where the costume was concerned (That alone was a labor of love. My dad rocks!) and I went through two wig changes. The first wig was a platinum blond and made me look more like Diddy's moms than Beatrix Kiddo. But I got it right eventually. Note to self: Take samurai sword out of backseat.

(This Bug baked)

You know, when some one asks you to make a big ass cupcake for their child's birthday party- you never expect that many accolades for simply following instructions. But the praise was overwhelming this weekend. It's amazing the oohs and ahhs some silicone bakeware and custom made (read: freakin' overpriced) sprinkles can solicit. I swear everyone there were just overgrown kids drooling over an over sized cupcake. At this point, I'm so over it.

And speaking of over it, I am so not when it comes to the Ghostface performance I broke my neck to go see. If anyone runs into Mr. Starks, please let him know I have a bone to pick with him. First of all, I don't blame him for things that are out his control, like the show being under promoted and having a sparse crowd. I don't blame him for being disappointed with the venue. When Cappadonna asked for the lights to be adjusted, I kinda felt Ghost when he said, "They don't got no light man. They don't got shit!" It was type funny because it was so true. But his energy was not 100% and once again he flooded the stage with those Theodore Unit cats. Why? They can't rhyme for shit. How many glorified hype men does one need? I love me some Ghost, but that show was trash. I mean- Sheek Louch was drunk but at least he looked like he gave a fat frog's ass and his catalog can't compare to what Ghost has in the stash. But unfortunately, that well went untapped most of night. I would've at least felt as though my money was well spent had he freaked off with the groupies onstage like the pic above. That might have entertained me. *Sigh*

Let me say this: Role playing works wonders and shouldn't be limited to couples who think they've lost the spark. It can actually lend additional fireworks to an already sparky relationship. (Is sparky even a word? Spellcheck says yes- though my context is questionable.) So, head out. Meet up with that not-so-unfamiliar stranger and let your imaginations be your only limitation. How can you go wrong? At the end of it all, neither of you can be charged for bad behavior when you already know each other. Am I right? You may be surprised at what a mock first date can spark. And...Oh yeah, a blond wig or samurai sword leftover from Halloween can't hurt. Unless you want it to. Just sayin'...

This book freakin' rocks. And I'm only the first chapter in. I have to say that happening by this book in a Dollar Store and actually buying it for one dollar (no lie) has been one of the best things that has occurred all year. It's the little things, dig? This woman can write her ass off and she's deeper than the River Styx. It's not a self help book. It's not a novel. It has history anecdotes, admissions of every day people and a different spin on age old ruminations of self. It defies categorization and that's what I love about it. Check out this excerpt:

In 2002, Verizon Wireless debuted a service called Get It Now. This allowed subscribers to download music, videos and other entertainments onto their cell phones: "Watch sports clips, comedy, news and weather from major networks and indie favorites -- all on your phone, on demand," the promo urged. "Express yourself with colorful and stylish images.... Fight boredom with fun games."

But by the time you read this, such technology will already be ancient history. And I will look the fool for citing it, like an old rube in a cartoon trying to feed hay to a car. Cutting edges are disposable blades now, replaced incessantly. We watch, twitching and restless.

I haven't enjoyed such a milieu of ideas and stories since The 48 Laws of Power. Find it now. Read it soon. Thank me later.

Time is such a precious commodity- as subjective as it is. I'll leave you with a Tweet I saw just the other day but chose not to #RT (that's retweet for all the those who are clueless just like I was) because...Twitter just doesn't do it for me, okay? There I said it. Anyway, it goes like this: "Yesterday is a canceled check. Tomorrow is a promissory note. Today is the only cash you have. Spend it wisely."

I couldn't agree more. Today, do the things that will bring you closer to your purpose and peace. That's the space where happiness lies. Make it count. You won't regret it. I know I didn't.