Mixtapes and Heartbreaks

Well, listen. Here's one of the many things I have learned since I last saw you: life turns man up and down. Peace to Kurt Thometz. Another thing I've learned, though? Who has time to sit and consider all that shit? Does a person standing in the middle of a four- lane highway have time to sit and lament the circumstances that got them there? You know how that person's gon' end up with all that cryin? A 2- dimensional past-tenser with their insides on the outside for some poor underpaid chump to clean up.


The thing about getting over the hump is this: the law of inertia dictates that all the energy you exert pushing and fighting your way up the hump will propel you forward, soon as you get the teeniest bit over. So keep pushing.


I got a mixtape coming in a few weeks. It's called "Hov Said It Best". This represents the first body of music I have released to the world that's solely my own. I got told ALL the way off by a man I am now in love with, for my slacking in this area over the years. (He don't know i love him. But how can you not fall in love with a man who is sick of you to the point of ignoring you, for not being great like you can be?) I'm excited about it. It's good stuff. Definitely different. What else can it be? I'm a giant weirdo. :) The first song you'll hear is called "Whatchu Want Me To Do" ... should I stick "Im Sorry!" in parenthesis in the title? choo think?


I've lost a friend or two, it seems. That's the heartbreak part of the blog. I like knowing, though. So I don't tell 'em no more of my business. :) Also, it's not really heartbreak. I find it difficult to be heartbroken over someone who isn't laying the pipeski, if you know what i mean.


I'm in the studio right now, finishing up one of the last songs on the mixtape. There's a fly issue. We have no idea where they are coming from. They're so big I can hear them buzzing on the microphone. We keep having to pause to beat them to death. More keep coming.

Fuck those flies. We will prevail. Life is good.


What's new in your world that you feel like sharing? Let me know! I read all the comments, believe me. That's what makes blogging fun!

At Least 1 Reason Good Black Women Can't Find Good Black Men.

.. as illustrated by a a story.


A Good Black Man and a Good Black Woman are at a bar.

The Good Black Man goes up to the Good Black Woman.

GBM: Hi, what's your name?

GBW: Shirelle.

GBM: Nice to meet you, Shirelle. My name is Lance.

GBW: You too, Lance. May I ask you a question?

GBM: Sure, shoot.

GBW: Why do Black Men always...... "

GBM: *tosses back drink* have a good night.



The End.



hehe

To My Exes- Sorry About The VD.

Noooo.... I don't have VD.

(Its funny... Despite the hideous, life- altering malady that it implies, the term 'VD' is almost charming in its antiquity, isn't it? No? Ok. Maybe its me.)

I stole this blog idea from someone on Tucker Max's message boards. (He stole it from someone else.) Its an experiment that asks 'what would u say to any of your ex- bf/gf's, wives/husbands, unrequiteds, jumps, booty calls, etc, if u had the chance today?' It should be fun. I encourage you guys to reply with your own stories as well as your comments regarding mine.
Here goes-

(... They usually start @ the beginning...)

H- honestly, a girl couldn't ask for a better way to lose her virginity. You're probably the reason I don't have any weird hang- ups. You were a great guy, sweet first bf, better sex than I knew to appreciate at the time. You really set a bar. You were a fantastic counterpoint to my hyper, chatty personality. The last time we broke up, it was because you wouldn't drive downtown to get me ribs from the rib shack at 10pm on a school night. I threw a tantrum and stormed out and you (finally) didn't chase me. You were always too sane for me. I found you on FB. You have a beautiful family. Pretty awesome. You'd prolly be grey-haired if we had married. Ima still blog more about you tho.

A- We probably would've stayed together longer if you didn't cry so much. Like, heaving on my shoulder, snotting and soaking my sleeve crying. What was I supposed to do with that? My nigga i was like 17. You had too much goin on in your life for me to handle. I saw u about a year ago. You had like 7 kids. Im not surprised.

H- We should never have dated. We both knew it. We waited so, so long to consummate the relationship. It was everything I feared it would be. My friends and I nicknamed you "Thimble Boy". I later learned you had a rep for unsatisfied customers. We got along so much better once we got that pesky dating business out of the way. Bad sex makes me awfully bitchy.

J- You were The One Who Got Away for so many reasons. Now that Im more grown- up, if I could do it differently, I'd play it so I wasnt so totally the bad guy. I was messin up for sure. But. It wasn't all my fault. I still feel bad about saying that. But it wasn't. Not entirely. I want my pictures too. I looked GREAT nekkid. Dammit.

P- You are the devil. I actually have u saved as "Satan" in my phone. You inspired in me a lack of control I havent experienced before or since. You knew a side of me that no one else did, and you knew you did. And then one day i was over it, and it was like someone pulled back the curtain on the Wizard Of Oz. Talking to you is still funny.


W- You weren't nearly as smart as you thought you were and that ultimately ruined what I thought was a greatly functioning, situational friendship/ relationship. You were terrible at being slick. Terrible! Pity. You, like most men, should learn to shush sometimes. I think about you now with a strange mixture of wistfulness (for the great times we had and the great times we'll miss) and amusement (at what a silly, silly boy you were!) Eh. I might call u up sometime. You were fun.


I would tell more good, happy stories.. but they are far less interesting.

I think that's enough... YOUR TURN!!!