waiting on my real life to begin


so i’m starting this blog with a side note:
i’ve never said “this year is going to be my year” because i didn’t want the losers to think that last past years weren’t.
feel me?

it’s like those folks who say:
“i’m going to stop giving a shit about what other people think about me and just do me.
i would never say that because i knew better to begin with than to care what other people thought about me.
that’s why i do the things i do and live as free as i live.
feel me.

i learned a long time ago not to worry about grown folks.
eff ’em.

oh – and i fxcking love peaches and cream oatmeal.

—–
i get my haircut in west hollywood and i’m always pleased with the cut – but when the barber finishes & tells me the price of the cut (as if i don’t already know) i want to suggest to him that he shave my balls, too. (because the price is high – nothing gay) but this last trip there, the breast-out old lady they have working there from time to time offered chocolate covered strawberries and rice krispy treats. (hmmm…)

—–

last weekend i found myself in long beach for the long beach step show.
i went alone. woo!
but if you’ve been keeping up, you know i don’t mind alone. i know how to make friends, so i always have a great time.
besides, this time i planned on meeting up with bruhs, socializing, fraternizing and doing it big.

blah blah blah (in place of the real story)
i had a wack time – and would have had a much better time in walmart looking for white tees without pockets.

but i did catch up with my ace boon coon @toolegit2twit.
so we kicked back front row and waited for it to end.

my, how i miss the south.
see you folks next week.

—–

i should wake up this town.
or it should be my intentions.

this morning i took the train to an audition and rocked it.
no doubt – i did.
i feel really confident about the whole thing, but knowing the way hollywood works & my anti-hollywood theories – it may not be for the best.
but who knows.

lol.

OH!!! some of this blog may not make sense. the music in my ears (blasting through @sirandrewk’s headphones) is too loud and my focus is lacking.

the other day i invaded a booth at the bar.
not really invaded, but i felt like meeting new people, so i sat down at their booth and introduced myself.
between their random bumps of cocaine and the liquor spills, we became fast friends.
woo!

——

and look at that, while writing that, the girl beside me struck up a conversation.
we probably won’t be friends, but sometimes it’s good to remind yourself that other people do live here, too.

i received a call from a friend a few days ago who just wanted to tell me thank you for the time and patience i invested in helping him get back in shape. and that really made me feel good. then i told him to call oprah and see if that was enough to get us on the show.

see, folks, i’m not always an asshole.

but speaking of working out – i am getting in pretty great shape.
see:


—–

i don’t know if i ever told you folks this – but most of my great thoughts hit me while i’m in the shower.
no lie!
so i was sitting there thinking about all the relationships i saved, killed, participated in over the past few years and how the folks i helped and even myself (back then) fell into a routine with each relationship…

so i offer this little tidbit of advice:
if you always do what you’ve always done – you’ll always get what you’ve always got.

also – on relationships:
when you get to the point where you don’t wanna bring up issues you feel are developing in your relationship because the other person is too sensitive or they seem to have something negative to say (verbally or lack thereof) about EVERYTHING you bring up – it may be time to get out.

don’t walk on eggshells for anyone!

—–

side note & fact: african americans spend 4 billion dollars a yeah. that’s $4,000,000,000 (right?!). NONE OF IT GOES TO THE COMMUNITY. where is the disconnect. everytime i ride through beverly hills, down fairfax, down melrose, etc… i’m jealous of the jewish folks who give back every chance they get and now RUN hollywood.

what the fxck is going on, idiots?

i’m done.
—–
shwitting: verb. to shwit. def: tweeting while shxtting.
example below:

—–

dear black greek-lettered organization members,

here’s a little entertainment:










but i fxcking love my chapter: GOODFELLA GAMMA THETA CHAPTER of KAPPA ALPHA PSI


—–

To The So-Called Americanized African (In that order),
First amongst equals,

this is my umpteenth attempt at trying to reach you, and it may very well be my last due to my
premonitions that you may not want to be reached.
For the past six years I have been playing what seems to be one of the most intense games of hide-and-seek, but not with anyone you’d know, at least not personally; nor physically. I’ve found myself running down unpaved alleyways and weaving through dimly-lit city blocks looking for Truth. And each attempt to reach you was to inform you that I have not yet found him, so unless he’s at your house, he is still missing.

Sitting over a plate of refried black beans, two soft fried eggs lightly peppered and enough plantains to fulfill a monthly yearning, I found myself deeply involved in a conversation, probably much like that of Malcolm and Martin’s, if in fact that meeting actually took place. My comrade and I, she being more like Martin in times of war, discussed Dubois’ thoughts and Baraka’s interpretations on the Sisyphus Complex and came up with this:

When Death came for the kidnapped Africans with its long, white reach, they chose to live, like Sisyphus. Going against fate, they were sentenced to a hill. At the bottom of this hill, a perfectly round boulder would be placed for the purpose of being pushed up the hill. When the top of the hill was reached, the boulder, each time without fail, would roll to the bottom, which is where they’d have to begin again.

This hill does not exist, at least not physically, my friend, nor does this boulder, but in your mind, and at that place you go every morning cursing through the leftover dew and darkness and from which you return cursing in sunshine most days, rain the others, this hill and boulder does exist and you, dear So-Called Americanized African are Sisyphus. Please, friend, do not misunderstand my claims and offer yourself to death once more as a solution, offer yourself to life. There is much more to living than that boulder.

I found myself in your home not too long ago. You weren’t there. Next to the Bible you keep on your kitchen table next to the empty cake container there was a note that read OUT TO LUNCH, so I made myself comfortable hoping you’d return soon.
The right-winged man that has been taking you out to lunch for the past few decades has been spoon feeding you chicken flavored inaccuracies and new traditions, and I came by to tell you to stop accepting his invitations, but you were already gone. Also, I came by because I discovered something new, and I thought I’d share it with you. I’ve finally perfected my frog killing technique and upon completion, I found what looks to be awfully familiar:

1. Take a frog…any frog.

2. Put that frog in a pot of lukewarm water. Cold water may shock him. Hot water may scald him.

3. Put the pot with the frog on the stovetop on low heat.

4. At this point, just watch the frog as he sits comfortably in this warm water. Watch him notice that everything around him is the same, but whatever it is he’s sitting on is changing…but just a little. He’s not yet sure if things are getting bad.

5. Turn the heat up a little more, but not too much. He’s getting a bit more nervous, but not too nervous because he’s still there. Everything around him is the same, so he may assume he’s the same.

6. Turn the heat on high. Watch that frog boil and die. Everything around him is the same, though.

Now doesn’t that sound familiar to you?
Soon I may find myself ducking behind old wooden doors and odd cars in Copenhagen if I find my cause within you to be unjust. I here Truth is there, somewhere cruising the red light districts and libraries. I’ll be waiting on you, dear friend.

When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.

—–

and after all my logic and theory – i add a ‘motherfucker’ so the ignorant niggas hear me. (and by ‘niggas’, i speak of all mankind)

fist bump to you all:

beware of dog

so the sign is on the fence – “beware of dog” – but you decide to skip your happy a** in there anyway and get fxcked up.
who’s fault is that? yours or the dogs?

RIGHT – YOURS!!!

so why can’t people carry this same thought into their many relationships (romantic and otherwise)?
three times this week i’ve been confronted with this issue.
folks have entered into relationships knowing the dog was in the yard – but proceeded anyway.
then when bitten – they blame it on the dog.

(and we’re not talking in the sense that “all men are dogs” or any of that off-the-wall bullshit fed to weak women by the scorned masses. we’re talking in metaphor)

basically LADIES & gentlemen: when he or she tells you something – listen. if the actions disagree with their words, oh well. LISTEN TO THE WORDS. damn. save us all some time.
trust me: your friends are tired of giving you advice and you not listening.

—–

every once in a while we must abandon all maturity and make fools of ourselves. at least catch a cartoon from time to time and smile at the unreal world.

i strapped on the rollerblades and hit the venice boardwalk. mostly for cardio but it felt good.
gonna do it often. probably not at venice, though.

if you’ve been keeping up with me long enough you’ll know where i keep God hidden.
he lives where water & sand meet.
trust me. go check him out.

so i went there and i found him, and we spoke and everything is everything he says.
i mean, he doesn’t really have a voice, but i imagine he speaks like aquarius rappers or in rhymes like cam’ron.
God is that dude. lol

“i know god personally. in fact, he lets me call him ‘me'” – saul williams.

so here is my conversation with god:



—–

even bentleys get visited by the repo man every now and then.
don’t let the reflection of your low self esteem in the door fool you.
okay?

—–

my cologne – boots – backpack all arrived and i’m hype as FXCK!!!
the cologne smells like god’s sweat and the boots are the SHXT!

i wish i could tell you what they were, but after stepping foot on santa monica tonight i see how influential my fashion can be.
LMAO.

feel me?

—–

felt like posting something old:

six months ago i imagined how your heart would beat when i put my ear there.
this isn’t how it’s supposed to sound.

i imagined every fifth beat would be skipped – just for the hell of it.
nothing special – except my head fits there – balanced.

at some point slightly after our first spades game (you flipping several cards up as you dealt) i decided i’d find a crack to slip through when you weren’t looking.
there are no new year resolutions in this year’s journal – on purpose.
i wanted to start this year with no expectations or bars to reach – giving you a head start.

three months ago i figured my head may be too big to fit
so i’d use my hand first.
slow my heart rate to keep the beast from conquering your heart.
i’d get it another way.

the pillow you offer on the cold nights when my apartment becomes too far to drive back to can remain on the bed where i’ve left several dreams and a few cloud-like configurations.

let’s eat whatever it is i cook and discuss sexual partners and why we’re each other’s exception.
let’s kiss between the periods and the first letters.
inhale the rest of my cologne when the commas get to be too much.

“how long you think we can do this?” – you ask.

“until one or the both of us can no longer believe in forever or fiction.” – i replied.

you rolled to your stomach and turned your head towards mine: “are you comfortable?”

i remained on my back – staring at the ceiling – silent – knowing your heart was now closer to me: “i’m good”
and i found my side of your bed.

—–

and on the note that nobody knows who the fxck kanye west is anymore, let me say goodnight and i will think of you all.

don’t be different (you un-brave fools)


i’d rather die than conform. open my veins on the bathroom floor.
this blog is supposed to piss you off.
i want this entry to play an unfair game of open chest with you.

my brother, @tonyp_ said it – and i retweet it all the time: “i did not get to where i am by walking with losers.” and because of that, i thank God every morning i wake up that i am unable to spot a loser when i see one.

okay okay okay – it’s not really that simple. see – losers look like everybody else. they have the bags under their eyes and their backs hurt and their hands are calloused – but they have nothing to show for any of those things.
the bags under my eyes mean i was up for 36 hours proving to the world that there are enough hours in a day.
the back pain and calloused hands come from carrying too much weight. mostly the weight of those who’ve given up years ago at the first sign of struggle. those few with cinderblock walls and smiles on their faces.
the few who, in my opinion, would have been much better off taking themselves out years ago.
but they smile like i smile – but only one of use smiles at freedom.

—–

at this moment: 8:25pm PST – i am no longer offering my respect to those who’ve become products of their environment. it is only offered to those who’ve become products of their thoughts.

the lazy and content say “you don’t know what i’ve been through”
the survivors say “i don’t look like what i’ve been through.”

—–

and the story goes:
the man had been watching the birds for a while. he recognized which bird among the flock was the strongest, and he captured it. he wanted to admire the bird whenever he’d come to the park, so he painted the bird a different color than the rest of his flock so they, too, would recognize him as the strong – different than them.

then he released the bird to be back with his flock.
as the bird flew back toward his flock – his flock flew towards him, recognizing him as different and now an intruder – and they killed him.

the end.

create your own lesson learned – your moral – your conclusion of that story.

—–

#fact: i sometimes feel like giving up on my goal to educate, inform, enlighten the people.
yeah, some are elevated – but that’s one of thousands that won’t.
and when i speak out against ignorance – the dumbing down of society – or trying to give “the people” the pill that will free them from the machine – they call me a hater.

definition of hater: knowing what the truth is.

ah well. but i said i feel like giving up sometimes. but i never will. it feels too good when the mentee becomes the role model.

—–

i don’t look like what i’ve been through:

—–

working on my success story


i’m hella hype for gabby & monique.
i remember checking out precious in new york with @jahmar1911 and really feeling the social worker scene.
i, unlike 97.8% of the audience, read the book, so i knew what to expect – but the onscreen mary jones was more than i could ask for. wow.

so congratulations to them both on their current and future achievements!
who wouldn’t want a success story like those?

——

just got in from LA’s version of canal street. a little spot i like to call “little big mexico.” all the shoes are wrapped in plastic & the only boots they have are caterpillar construction boots. (sigh). the shades were cool and the watches held value – but the best thing i saw there was this sign:


—–

so yesterday – @sirandrewk & me were kicking back in wasabi drinking soda & eating $1 sushi rolls before hitting the streets. and we were talking about achieving goals, why were were & weren’t on the right path and what we needed to do to get where we needed to be – and i was telling him about the script i wrote with nicole beharie in mind and then…

i hear a girl beside us on the phone, laughing and talking in a southern accent. so i look over and introduce myself and ask where she’s from. “south carolina” she says. so we chop it up & we learn that she and nicole beharie are actually friends and she heard us talking about her, and she as gonna call her and let her know she ran into someone with a script for her to check out.

and whether she reads the script or not – my point is: you never know who you may be sitting next to.

#fact: i am nice to everyone i meet. i smile, share my food and drink, and whatever else denotes niceness. ask anyone that knows me: they’ll tell you.

so i made a new friend in wasabi yesterday and the circle continues to grow larger and larger.
(sings mcdonalds: ba da da da daaaah i’m lovin’ it)

—–

and LA is attempting to kidnap me, i see.
the scenery lacks and the people (not all) aren’t as active as the cut throat east coast folks, but the opportunities – networking – magic is here. and this time around something is definitely different.

so i’m milking it.

—–

side note: the economy is fxcking great. the only people not working are the people who never learned to hustle.

—–

and we, as fans, need to stop giving credit to “artists” just because they have years in the game. snoop doggy dogg fxcking sucks & so does LL Cool J & 500 other folks who need to retire and just LISTEN.

—–

here is a note of protest for my brother:

fxck whoever won’t let jay snead run for office at bethune-cookman college. they don’t give a shxt about the student body – just the money. you know who you are.

(that message was not approved by jay snead and he has nothing to do with it)

—–
@mswoods03 came out to LA this week and we did it semi big. walked through rodeo drive – got spotted by paparazzi & tourists who probably thought we were flava flav and delishus (ignorant spelling) – and hit fresno and roscoes and some mo’ shxt.

GOOD TIMES.
—–

the other night i had a dream about a friend i lost last year.
it was one of those tv type dreams where she appears at the foot of the sofa and reveals something to me. you know what i’m talking about?

well, i actually met her at the apartment she lived in when she died & we talked about inappropriate things, and laughed and she grabbed my hand and told me to tell a few folks that things would be alright.
quite strange, i tell you.
i’ve never wanted to be the guy that dead folks come to, but if they wanna start now, cool. too bad they don’t have money to hook a brother up. nah mean?

—–

i have too many friends who will wake up at 45-years-old and realize that stepping out of their comfort zones when they were 20+ would have been so much easier and less painful than waking up at 45 realizing the only goal they’ve accomplished was to stay alive. how sad is that?

i refused to be that guy when i was 10.

are you that person?

#fact: i am a life consultant.
so if you want to change something in your life and get better – hit me up. i’m always willing to help. not free – but you will be happy with who you become. guaranteed.

and don’t get me wrong. i never press everyone to become successful. if everyone became a success story, who’d flip our burgers and clean our tables in the mall? but some of us are BORN TO SUCCEED!

—–

and the day is beautiful and i have so much to do. dang dang dang.
i’m hoping the website goes up this week thanks to @chocolatedawl

—–

so today, let’s say FTW and succeed!

tough times don’t last – tough people do.

-am i the only one surprised tyler perry hasn’t made a sitcom or comedy film about the haiti earthquake?
-am i the only one pissed that the happy slave, fonzworth bentley (derrick watkins) is still alive?
-whales and chimps are not pets. it’s all fun & games until someone dies or their face is fucked up.

oh…in case i forgot to talk about it:
the 25th anniversary of “we are the world” can go straight to the pits of hell – or wherever that scream wyclef belched out came from.
it was god awful.
okay okay okay – not god awful. (house of payne is god awful). we are the world was just bad and should have been left the hell alone like jay z said. they should have just digitally remastered it or show a video to accompany the old one. oh well. it’s done and over.

-and damn BET right now for showing crooklyn, knowing i love that film, but hate the network. oh well, i’ll watch the dvd later.

-do you know how much we could achieve if everybody wasn’t so concerned with receiving credit?

list of people to lose their fame and possibly their life this week:
-fantasia: for that dumbass reality show.
-michael vick: for the same reason.
-bill cosby: for being the bitter, old, black uncle people hate to see show up at the reunion.
-lil mama: for that same stunt she pulled on stage with shawn and alicia.
-many more.

that’s my rant and rave
—–

gregory peck wrote:
tough times don’t last – tough people do.

and the last week has hit with two pseudo celebrity suicides.
tough it out people.
suicide is such a permanent answer for a temporary problem, wouldn’t you say?

i remember high school and there was suicide after suicide. partly because the town i came from was small as fxck and there was nothing to do but go to the mall, “mack the honey dips,” go bowling and then suicide.
one girl was found swinging from the ceiling fan from her belt. her father found her an hour after he told her she couldn’t go away to college because of the C she got on her report card (her first C ever in life).

one boy told him mom he was going for a walk one night, went in front of the school, soaked himself in gasoline and lit the match. the janitor put the flames out. before crying “don’t let me die” two days later, he did.


while i agree that there are people who should just take themselves out of the game, there are still those who are considering it that we will miss very much. (don’t like what i’m saying? there’s an app for that)

and it’s probably safe to say that we all have thought about what it would be like to kill ourselves, or have gotten to the point in our frustration, anger and/or depression and may have thought “man, fuck this life” – but we ain’t doing it.

damn – i forgot where i was going with this part of the blog. oh well. but let me say this:
sometimes all it takes is a phone call or a huge or a text to change someone’s mind. if you think someone is going through it, talk to them and let them know.
it doesn’t have to be all sentimental and soft.

say: i love your punk ass!

that’s it.

(text from @PinkiesNKreme)
—–
CONGRATS TO REGGIE BUSH’S FIANCEE FOR HER NEW PERFUME & CUPCAKES:



—–

so LA is going well.
last week i attended Tarina Tarrantino’s Beauty Premiere in hollywood. I felt like i showed up for a gunfight with a rubberband. Kimora brought the daughters & kelly osbourne came through. i laughed it up with tasha smith and seth green confessed his engagement. all around: a good night.
and like most hollywood big heads, i left early. i was fxcking hungry.

and this week is going to be crazy.
i got the dreams girls premiere (who wants to go – tuesday?)
networking breakfasts, lunches, dinners and hustling & grinding my way to the red carpet of the academy awards.
then very possibly VEGAS with youknowwho. (looking for hotels & shows now)

—–
side note: am i the only one who flashes back to waiting to exhale every time an allstate commercial comes on?
—–

we need to stop putting limits on those who we befriend. you’d be surprised who’d answer the phone when you really need them.
it’s kinda funny how old age makes so many things that once seemed important/out of the question/relevant – not hold so much weight.
At least that’s what old age should do. if not old age, then life experience.
and what i’ve experienced in my travels is that many of the people i once laughed at & bullied in high school turn out to be some of the greatest friends ever – meanwhile, the folks i kicked it with hardest are the ones that wouldn’t leave the comfort of their beds if i were stuck at a train station in compton at 3am. (thanks kiya & eden)

but as you all know – i’m smart. so those bad friends don’t exist in my life. i treat my friends like parachutes. if they aren’t there the first time i need them, i’ll never be needing them again. feel me?

—–
i’m in the mood for a good ass game of hide & go seek.
who’s down?
—–


dear friends & potentials:

i am not the salvation army. do not come to me with sorrow in your eyes and voice – or feeling overly emotional hoping i’ll share your pain or nurse you back to happiness.
i cannot. i will ignore it and speak to you when that mood has passed.

somewhere along the path of here and then – i lose my empathy and i’m not 100% sure where to buy more.

—–
um…what the hell is this mcdonalds commercial with the singing “you got me a 10piece ’cause you’re not so stingy” ?
—–

oh shxt! i finally finished the pilot episode of the project i’ll be starting this spring. woo! it feels good and so far the reviews have been great. so stay tuned. cool?

—–
and dear text message forwarders:
if i get one more text message about the love of jesus & sending to 10 people – i will write you back telling you what to do with that magical, cell phone using jesus of yours.

-me

—–

so i end with this: