Sign o' the times/mess wit yo' mind/hurry befo' it's too late/got to fall in love get married have a baby....

Life happens. One of the worse things about being me right now is every pat little bullshit cliché applies. You name it, it is what it is, things happen for a reason, and there it is. My life as cliché, welcome to it. One of my best friend's dad just died. He died on New Year's Eve. I don't know exactly what that means yet, but it means something to me beyond coincidence, given my tribulations and the number 9. I am investigating. And I am exhilerated to realize, that though this hits so close to home for me, I can be cool and I don't go there about losing my own dad, emotionally. I am really good about being really good when my peoples need it, and I am proud of that fact. It is time to discover me, for me. This year promises to be interesting to say the least, unlike this blog, which is more like maintenance than actual output. I will return soon, with another broken dispatch. Happy New Year to those of us who survived alive, and those that did not. unedited.

as she rises to her apology, everybody else would surely know....he's watching her go....

....and just like that, it was over for Styles at Isis High.

i have been begging for this moment, hunting it down, sniffing it out, waiting impatiently for it's arrival. and now it's here. my last girlfriend just completed the last thing that we needed to do to finally sever all ties. in typical new millenium style, that would be the transfer of all her data from my computer onto an external hard drive.

i cannot lie, with every fiber of me i wanted things to go differently today... last summer... last year. they did not and so here i am. or rather, there i was, sitting quietly with this woman that i used to know, a long time ago, last winter when we were together. i wanted today to be the shot at redemption that i'd hoped for, i wanted her to dash all those doubts that i had that she didn't care for me against the rocks, and if nothing else leave a little entré into something more, brighter, in the future. that didn't happen. instead, i got an awkward visit from a stranger, who seemed familiar only because i saw glimpses of it then and know even better now, that this is the person she always wanted to be. not my girl, not my partner, not my friend not my wife. i could barely look, at what was definitely not an apparition, she was there self actualized, quietly smoldering, warm to the touch of a new life without me. it was my greatest fear realized, and exactly what i needed.

but let me stop lying, gentle reader; i needed something else a little more, i needed that shot at redemption. that cinematic ending that i have never had, when against all odds, and when you least expect it, the impossible is possible. i needed her to come back to me, or rather, i needed to be the man that she came back to. it cuts me to the core that i am not that man, not for her, or for anyone that i have ever dated for that matter. but especially for her, that was all i wanted to be, for 3 years. somewhere between my bullshit and hers i was never able to find that, i only found the same me that i always am. i am the one you leave and you never look back, she definitely didn't look back, and made sure to close the door behind her.

and now? well, that moment that i was stuck in, i can finally see that it's gone now. and i am grateful, but oh this sadness, this deep mournful tug that i feel? that was not the expected outcome. so here i am, at the keyboard letting it wash all over me, there won't be any redemption, not the kind i had hoped for, only the realization that i am the same man that she left in april, for all intents and purposes, and she is something else. so i again, go back to learning: learning to forgive myself for the things i couldn't say, and didn't do, the wrong things i felt i had to do. i have to look these things in the face and be at peace with the person that i am. and to think i thought i already did that. oh no, sir, there are still many miles to go before i sleep.

And I don't need no hook for this hit/'cuz shawty right dere.....

She was the sheeit, back in '02. Now she defies human eyes, you kind of have to turn away from beauty so regal. Could it be that I was dumb enough to pick her out, diamond in the ruff, so many years ago only to throw her away on some fools' gold shit? would not be the first time, hell, I don't know why she or anyone else doesn't hold it against me. i guess i hold grudges so heavy, i just expect everyone else to follow suit, and i'm always surprised, no...shocked when the rest of the world doesn't get small, and bitter and petty, just like me.

so when we got back in touch, i was excited to see her, witness her growth and hopefully get in where i fit in. i mean, i entertained grandiose fantasies of sliding up behind her at a café's crowded coffee counter and slipping my arm around her waist to kiss her neck, just to let her know that i was oh so confident of the dickdown that i was going to put on her later. there was even one, where, we never even made it out on the date, we just fell into each other's arms half exhausted, half relieved that we had found each other again, and it was cool, so cool.

but, here's the rub, i'm not talking about the certified dime that i had dinner with last night. you probably already guessed that i am talking about my ex that i still can't fucking get over, get past, get around or plain get away from. (my man from maui said, give it at least a year, and ride the waves for what they are worth, and use this time to look at yourself, by yourself. and i'm doing that, but i am lonely, and my ego don't stop, so i am dating as a preemptive strike against an enemy force i can't even predict. i guess, i'm trying to put as much physical distance between me and her that i can, because the whole "let go" emotionally jazz? that shit still ain't working, and it's almost been a year, already. lately, i just think that this thing is turning into a big iraq-like snafu, where i can't let go of my feelings, or move on because i feel compelled to finish some job i started that it's not mine to complete nor was it ever. i know that's a 30 Rock level, political metaphor stretch, but i just feel so hopeless right now that it steals my breath when i sleep. gawd, i am fucked up. i got t.i.p.=thoughts, issues and problems.

but back to my date, and rather me realizing that these fantasies i was entertaining were not about her, in some weird mind flip, i had done the reverse of what so many men do: i had popped my ex-girlfriend into my fantasy about "new pussy." i told you i had fucking issues. so here i am sitting in a very crowded restaurant with the prettiest girl in the room, and all i can think is: "how come B.I.G. don't want me."

i'm fucking screwed up right now, and trying not to take others down in my descent, but it's hard, because some days, and most nights, i'm more lonely, than i am anything else.

so i soldier on, i don't even know where this energy is coming from, i just keep going, not in a daze, but a determined haze. i don't even know what i'm trying to complete. i think it's about finishing this year and not letting it finish me, but between sickness, bad luck, drama and plot arcs coming to their logical ends, i am feeling more and more undone even with less than 14 days left to go.

i love to hear my heroes talk about their reactions to terrible things, you know the whole, "it's not what happens to you, it's what you do about what happens to you" that whole shtick. yup, i am just trying right now, to make it to my chance to take some of the worst things that ever happened to me, and turn them into some of the best. but as we all know, i have a longstanding tradition of ducking greatness. i hope this time, i'm just too old, to dumb, or just too plain tired, to duck.

redemption. a second shot.

cover me.
for a moment
or two.

this season
has grown short
making miracles minimal.

still Terra swells to her icy blessing
and d'evils d'escend
to dissolve our d'esideratum.

this season
has grown too short, to pay penance
still i wait for midnight sun to bathe my stigmata.

in the embrace of amity
she is still; sated.
sowing serendipity.
slowly reclaiming
her marks as my own.

but this season, this season
has grown, so short
providence promises naught.

my soul subsists in this
sackcloth cielo
awaiting aurora.

sentient eyes seek nocturnal sunshine
for only one season
and this season, grows short.

I hope you're lucky, so lucky....because December has a way of being cold for some of us.

 I just found my new favorite Christmas song. In fact it murders all my expectations of a christmas classic: it should be funky, or at least cool, written if at all possible, or better yet: reinterpreted by a black person, and most important: above all else it must be melancholy, nay even sad. 

There have been obsessions in the past, perhaps it stems from my father's love of Nat King Cole's interpretation of the classic christmas song. I was far too young to dig any nuance out of Cole's flawless reading, couldn't decipher the double entendre of a negro performing America's defining Christmas song, at the time that it was recorded. I always thought it a pale,(HA!) withering "classic" better left on the old cassette that pops was wearing out even with an annual play every christmas day. 

Teenage heartbreak rocketed "Last Christmas" by George Michael right up the list. I will forever be 16 and feeling used by some little girl to get what she reallly wanted for christmas, read: not me. Lately I must admit the reggae version of "Last Christmas" does me one better, you know the whole black people reinterpretation thing. 

Oh, but the daddy of them all inspires fanaticism in me. It makes me feel like those collectors I hate who flaunt holy grails they will never appreciate in the face of mere enthusiasts, who for instance are passionate about a subject, like music. Yeah, this song when it became so widely available about 10 years ago, sort of had to leave the top of my list because it's lack of availability was one of it's strongest points, and what does THAT say about a song written and performed by Prince at the cresting of his creative powers? It's cheese, it's schmaltz, it's sad, chic and ever so low down. "Another Lonely Christmas" is the kind of gag that Robert Smith would be ashamed to play on even the most devout Cure fan, but dammit, from that first swooning riff, I am always hooked, and around Christmas time, I am always lonely, with or without my family, my friends or a lover. 

The prevailing mood of the world sends me toward solitude, I just can't help it, I like to block the world out, even if for a few moments on Christmas Eve, and just be with me. I had always thought however, that I would find someone, who felt comfortable enough to invade that space, someone right at home disrupting my navel gazing, I thought I found that person, but I think a lot of stupid shit, it's called digressing, are you noticing a pattern? 

Back on topic, there are a few honorable mentions, Vanessa Williams valium inspired "What Child is This?" (the sheer irony of America's at the time number one whore, serenading America's number one innocent, leaves this one high atop my list for all times), Mahalia Jackson's Christmas album, James Brown's, "Christmas in Hollis", worthy as these all may be, they lack that essential feeling of egress created by the season's feelings of good will, hope, desperation and regret. Twice, believe it or not, black music has completely hit that nail on the head: "Merry Christmas Baby" covered and perfected by so many great artists has all my requirements in spades, it's a blues for god's sake! Oh so elegant, it just strolls along and dares you not to think about your loved ones, your greatest Christmas memories, and just smile. 

Oh but the big dog in the room, my number one in this High Fidelity inspired Funky Five Christmas Songs plus one more, is the standard by which all others are judged. So much has been said about Donny Hathaway's "This Christmas", and so much more still remains to be said. I won't try to improve upon what other greater minds than mine have said, I can only speak to my feelings about this record. Say what you want, Donny Hathaway had a way of really speaking to the souls of black folks, it is the same gift that R. Kelly has: the ability to present a skeptical people with almost anything and have them consider it. Dave Chappelle could have been talking about Donny when he said: "that R. Kellly can make a song about anything!" So if you can imagine, being raised your entire life somewhere between Mahalia's "Holy Holy Holy" and Nat the King's chestnuts, only to find that everything you thought you had been missing in Christmas music was right there, hell, you were hearing  it in utero, it was made for your first Christmas. Somehow you missed it for 9 years, but now you are riding in your mother's best friend's daughter Vickie's Toyota Celica GT, and she is beautiful, and we're alone now, and she is singing this song for you. (ahem....) The best way I can explain is to say that you are 9, it is Christmas, and suddenly you realize that Black is the best possible thing you could be, at the best possible time in the world, something about this sound, these words has always been waiting for you, and you just want to thank the man who knew you before you knew yourself. So, thank you Donny, and I hope you don't mind the company, but now, we got one more: 

Monique Bingham is probably not a name that you are familiar with, but she has written 3 of the most singularly beautiful songs in the last 15 years that I can think of: "Pure" performed by Monique as part of the group "Blue Six"; "Get Another Plan" by the group Abstract Truth, and you really should kneel down before the might of another record by Abstract Truth entitled simply enough: "(We Had) A Thing". If there were any justice in the world all 3 of these songs would have enjoyed fortnight runs on the top of the pop charts, for they are pop at its best, and Monique at her best. She has outdone herself with another sparsely arranged masterpiece, just in time for Christmas. "December" featured on the excellent album "Christmas in the House" available now on King St. Sounds, the venerable house music label, has no business being so undeniably groovy, thought provoking, sad and uplifting at the same time. Ms. Bingham's performance is so coded, rife with pain and promise, I don't wanna overtalk it, let's just say that, Donny, and Nat et. al, have got some seriously funky company. Listen to it right now, and tell me what YOU think. 

redemption–a work in progress.

float down on me
one moment at a time.
so that no two moments
are alike.

this season has grown short,
and
miracles once expected
in abundance
are minimal in measure

Terra swells to recieve her
icy blessing and d'evils
d'escend
to d'issolve
all
d'esideratum

this season has grown so short
and I pay penance
while I wait for
midnight sun
to illuminate
my stigmata.

in the embrace of amity
she is still.
sated.
supplying serendipity
reclaiming
her marks
as my own

and this season, this season
has grown short.
so that providence promises nothing
save possibility

my soul survives in sackcloth sky
awaiting your touch
to ignite these darkest days

nocturnal sun
shines
only one
season
and this season,
has grown
short.

It's Been A Long Time, I shouldn'a left you....

So what the fuck eh? Why the hell haven't I been writing? A better question is why haven't I been publishing? Been writing a lot, but it's all been hella personal. I gotta hold something of myself back right? Maybe it should be AlmostNaked and Damn Near Forgotten. Well consider this missive an attempt to right the ship and plot a more steady course. A lot has been going on, and mostly I just felt bad for posting up 3 total downer posts. Everything has been down lately though, these are tough times....might as well document them.

So, as insomnia grips me once more, I turn to the last resort this blog, to fill those creepy quiet hours between last call and first light. You will be hearing a lot more from me, although entries will be kept brief. Updates a coming, so strap in....