Things Fall Apart

"Life is always on the edge of falling down again."
~The Noonday Demon*

the tipping point: [definition] The tipping point is the critical point in an evolving situation that leads to a new and irreversible development. By analogy, when a small amount of weight is added to a balanced object, it can cause it to suddenly and completely topple....

Wow. If anyone still reads this blog, please know that I'm here and have not fallen off the face of the earth. Not literally anyway, but I'll explain more later. I have 3,729 unread messages in my inbox. Have not checked, read, nor sent an email or read a blog in a little under four months. The reasons are complex and varied, but suffice it to say that I was already barely hanging on after lil' sis' murder trial. Had a lot to process. Then, some other stuff happened, then some other stuff. Then some more stuff...

And then came a day, a few months later, (August 2nd to be exact), when I got the news that my baby cousin, our Justin, our 25 year old Justin, handsome, compassionate, intelligent and about to obtain his mechanical engineering degree Justin - had been senselessly murdered in Atlanta (same place as lil' sis), and that I had another good-bye to attempt, another funeral to attend, another fresh deep jagged wound for my family to try to stumble through, and another new set of motives and circumstances and crime scene reconstructions, hitting walls over this backwards ass "NO SNITCHING" ghetto mentality. New detectives, preliminary reports, felony murder charges, trial dates, all the familiar horror...and something inside my core snapped. It was all just too much. Half a decade of continual loss and death and grief. All these attempts to hang on to this slipping down life, to collapse, to get up, only to be knocked down again. Again. And again and again. Yes, the world breaks everyone. And it finally broke me.

On that day I made two announcements. The first one, to be expected. The latter, scared the shit outta everyone. Including me.

Number #1: Fuck Atlanta. Fuck Georgia. Fuck the whole goddamn state and every other state that touches it's borders. Fuck anything associated with Georgia. I'm done. That place has snatched too much of my precious blood. I don't give a fuck how irrational it sounds. So just fuck it.

and,

Number #2: I give up.

Not even feeling as if I had anything left to prove, the kids and I flew back East to grief and family and funeral - then I simply came home, got in bed, and didn't get up for a month. A relative came to take care of me and the kids. I slept, drank Vodka, sobbed until I threw up, drank some more, refused to eat, and took too many but not enough pills. I just wanted to sleep. I sat up one hazy afternoon, amazed I was still alive. By then it was September.

Things had fallen apart; again. Gradually, then suddenly. And this year, even a trip to Jamaica hadn't saved me.

Hence, the disappearance.

Though I won't even say I'm back - just checking in. The lady who lets me be lost on her sofa every week (my therapist) suggests that I try to start writing again. This is the soft encouragement she gives after reminding me all of this is normal after suffering a "major grief-triggered depressive breakdown," with a fair amount of "post-traumatic stress" to go along with it. (All these fancy words and phrases for going crazy, nowadays.)

So I have graduated from just trying to get out of bed and brush my teeth, to taking regular showers, to coming out of my room, to speaking without crying or shouting uncontrollably. Not without the help of a whole lotta love, and whole lotta doctor's prescriptions. (the legal dope- pills.) All of it has been a humbling, frightening experience, my closest slip into pure madness. Because of it, I've alienated a bunch of folks this go around; I became impossible and simply dropped off the map with no indication of a return. A few great friendships have been tested and deeply frayed. Normal conversations still remain amazingly tedious. When I'm able, I'll communicate what I can to them..and just hope.

But you are never the same once you have acquired the knowledge that there is no part of your life that cannot crumble..you must let go and understand that the world will be re-created and may never again resemble what you knew previously...*

So, a painful progress had been sort of achieved now, I guess. Phone calls and voice and e-mails still give me an unnerving amount of anxiety. I can text, though. And eat salad. Get up. Walk the dog. That I can do.

Re: writing again: I tell my therapist: I'm sick of writing about pain. I don't wanna be that tragedy chick. You know, that person who seems to go through it..again..and again, and again and again; that person(s) you lightweight stay away from just in case their shit is contagious.

What do you want, then? she keeps asking me.

I don't know, I keep telling her. I liked it better when I didn't have to think or want. But I suppose now, since I'm up and wandering around - maybe it means I'm trying to find out. Maybe.

Until again,

Be well, Blogger Fam.

~Supa

Vacation Auto-Response...

Supa is back stateside...but her mind and spirit are still loungin' in Jamaica, mon.
(Sipping rum punches!!)

Me and My Partner in Crime (Sigz)
PS: I WON THE TAN CONTEST!

Resort Life!

P.S. - Soprano's finale hate? Anyone? Anyone?

Checklist....and Countdown!

Let's see....Been neglecting blog lately? Check. Miss cyber-hangin' with all my blogger friends and fam? Check. Cut self a lil' slack, 'cause life happens. Check!
Make amends upon return...check. Ready to relax and get rowdy on Carribean isle to celebrate upcoming earthday? CHECK. (don't ask how old I'll be - I'm a '69er so do the math!) Passport, laptop, bikini gear, Ipod, tanning oil, good book (& overstuffed suitcase)....check check check!!!

What's. up. Blogger. Fam! Life's been a movin' and ya girl has been busy trying to flow right along with it! And in less than 10 hours, Supa will render herself dumb, refuse to obsess on whether she tured off the iron or not, and gratefully plop her azz in that airline coach seat headed non-stop to Montego Bay. Yeah mon. I'll throw back a couple of Rum Punches for ya, while hoping all is beautiful in your lovely worlds!

So if I didn't get in all my last minute phone calls, I'll holla when I return. Mwabi, can't wait to see you when you hit the west side! Tia, don't get married while I'm gone...Cinq & Caprice, check your voicemails. Tammy Tam, relax and do you! Bloggin Hotties ~ we gotta hook up! Writing Crew ~ we need to, too. Skinnyman, I love a story full of advantages...And S.Simone - I'm gonna win the tanning competition. I still love you, though! Ha!

Wish me happy birthday come Thursday (Gemini's rule!) Soprano's finale tonight!! What's it gonna be?? Oh,the drama!

Peace, ya'll!

P.S.- Saw Ocean's 13 with the RR's Friday nite, thought it was complete garbage.

Thought Bombs...

So glad the sun finally came out today. These gloomy gray LA days suck big time. I need the sun. Need the warmth and inspiration of that bright glowing star. Otherwise I'm just a moody chick. I think that seasonal affective stuff is real. I'll use that the excuse for why I haven't called you back, Cinq. Caprice. Yvonne. Jude.....etc....

We're so full of shit. As a human race. As Americans. As Americans of African descent. What are we doing? What am I doing? How am I contributing to the world, to the global community? Cuz we're all the same. All of us. We all want the same things. A good life. Security, love, family, safety, health, access, opportunity. People in Iraq want the same thing. People in the Sudan want the same thing. People in Haiti, Mexico..hell, New Orleans..want the same things. To be happy and free. To be healthy. To have equal access and opportunity and the freedom to live your fucking life. To have the neccesities covered so you can dream a little. If you think what's happening on the other side of the world doesn't affect you, you're insane. If we think being an American doesn't hold us responsible for some truly heinous shit, then we're blind. I should be doing more.

Rap music is bullshit. Poison. Buffunory. I'm done. Again. Hip-hop is like a high-school love who had my heart at fifteen but can't do shit for me as a grown ass woman. We'll always have love and memories, but I accept that we've grown apart. So fuck it. Drum and bass and that abstract shit is really fueling my mind right now....Maybe I just need to go watch Brown Sugar..

I want to travel. Expand. My soul is itching to reach farther, a constant nudging I embrace but can't explain. I need new earth beneath my feet. Always wanted to walk the red carpet in Cannes. Maybe I'll get there, but if not it's still cool. I enjoy what I'm doing now. Feels like freedom. Running my own shit, working with people, doing bodywork. It's like being a composer. I hear tones and feel textures and see colors and it feels like jazz....

Why in the hell did I start watching the news again. Paris Hilton needs to get off my tv screen. Why does this silly girl's antics piss me off? Maybe beause on this particular news segment it was reported that she was too distraught to make an appearance in court... and I'm wondering what kind of excuses do normal non-heiress people have when they're too distraught to do whatever. Fuck that bitch. I'm trying to live a real-life life so forget I even mentioned it.

Talked about death the other day. Am still challenged with having unbiased coversation with folks who haven't experienced loss on the same scale, yet who through honest conversation give their insights and opinions with absolutely no malice intended, yet i still want to wrap my fingers around necks and declare softly you don't know what the fuck you're talking about. But I can't judge anyone else's experience. Nor can they mine. And I'm still working through some shit. And I gotta remember that sometimes even I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about. And so the gap remains...

I keep so much inside. I have a story to tell so why aren't I telling it? Recording it. Writing it, like I said I would. Why doesn't anyone? We're all full of these stories waiting to get out. Can I write it as I'm living it, or do I need some distance and perspective in order to put it all together? How cool is it to be able to write your own endings. And beginnings. I will do it. You should do it. Everybody should. We can. I wonder if Rainier Marie Rilke knew his shit was prolific. Or did he feel just as lonely and hopeful and confused as the rest of us. What does any of it mean? Christ, I sound like AJ from The Sopranos.

Been reminiscing lately. Thinking of certain men in my life who were beautiful romantic disasters. Who would stay up all nite building/sparring with me about art and philosophy and the Harlem Renaissance and the existential crisis Peter's character went through in Office Space, or dissecting themes and symbolism and archetypes in whatever movies we'd both seen in our Netflix queues, eating day old take-out sipping chilled vodka while attempting to figure out our mutual and individual existences, or whispering into the clouds while chillin in a hammock, or sharing this overheard conversation or that obscure quote or whatever wacky historical fact...or smiling over frozen mojitos in bryant park...just be reminiscing on all the mental fucking sessions that replay in my head... it's a lovely hodgepodge...and quite refreshing when despite whatever happened you can still remember the good things..

Life is magic and I wanna learn some new tricks

Holy Shit, Man...

Dude. The Soprano's...Oh, Christophur!

As RR#2 would say - OMG!

I must say, it's almost disturbing how much emotional investment I have in this motley crew of totally fictional muthafuckas...but the writing, acting, and production on this series is phenomenal. These sociopaths are my guilty viewing pleasure.

Only 3 episodes left..So what's gonna happen to Tony Soprano?? (hit up the new poll!)

Floating Forward...

What's happening, Blogger Fam! How you be, how's life treatin' ya, and what's good?!! (tell me, I really wanna know!)

Meanwhile Supa is over here, holding down her little spot on the planet, a lil' overwhelmed as of late, always hustlin', steady daydreaming, forever grateful. I have been so lame on my blog posts and reading, Ize feels like I dont know ya'lls anymore! (insert Sophia voice from Color Purple) I'm way behind on email and phone call returns too, so if you wanna cuss me out, there's a bit of a line. lol (Cocoa Girl, Cinque, Jude)

But trust, I haven't been slacking..running The Lounge keeps a sista pretty busy (happily busy, but BUSY)...I mean, I kinda knew starting your own business venture was a time-consuming deal, but one never knows just how much until she's IN it, right? But it's alllll good. Tia helped hook up The Body Lounge website and we got the Myspace page going, and I even started the lounge blog, along with planning our next big marketing push, all on top of holding down the Supa Pad and the RR's, pondering on going back to school this month and trying to get to JAMAICA next month...balancing social life, "me" time, a new honey(sneaky smile), and everyday existence....AND still trying keep up with the latest Soprano's episode (whew), so alla that should serve as quantifiable proof I 'aint been sittin' on my azz..Damn. I'd like a nap, please!!! (Tia, I don't know how you do it...AND stay sane)

(side note: Please add The Lounge as a friend in your Myspace, I swear that page is lookin' kinda lonely...)

So summer is knocking and I'm feeling the itch - the urge to slip on that summer dress, walk around pedicured and barefoot, sip homemade lemonade, lay around in the hammock & work on my tan, cocktail in the big city until all hours of the hot night...

..but damn. It's only the beginning of May...and plenty of work to be done until I can play. And this last month has been an adjustment period of sorts...life after the trial still feels strange indeed. The new normal...*sigh* Strange, indeed...more on this lata.

At any rate - shout out to blogger Bunny who sent me the nicest encouragement card in the mail after the trial, and to Christine who is the first to make a Body Lounge order via the web - yay! Who says these internets can't bring positive things and people together? Pffft.

Supa, signing out, and still floating forward...

Much love ya'll. And tell me, what are your summer plans? Might need some good ideas :)

and happy belated birthday Tam and Mwabs!!

So Much News, Such Little Time To Blog...

But let's start with this...

"Calm down white people, stop going crazy over Don Imus,
ya'll are still in control." -Spike Lee

Don't know about ya'll, but I always thought this fool was suspect. Didn't even have to listen to his shows to know he was an old-school bigot. Straight up vintage. Shit don't bother me. Personally, Supa likes to know her deep-seated sexist/racists right up front, no beating around the Bush. Meanwhile, it's kinda interesting how hip-hop got pulled up into this Imus mix....might be apples and oranges, but I do know that when folks demean and denigrate their own (*cough cough* present day rappers *cough cough*) then everybody feels like they can do the same. And in the eloquent and succinct style of this dude:

That's all I'm gonna say about that.

Supa: Checkin' In..

What be the haps, Blogger Fam? Hope all is well in your worlds! Sincere thanks all for the messages and comments and concern and well wishes...

Supa's been good. Just taking it slow. Relaxing, regrouping, re-adjusting...didn't do Jamaica (yet), but took a mini-sabattical to the Palm Springs desert for a few (hence the cornrowed 'do!) ; enjoyed lazy life in the sun, thankful for the breather and change of scene; for some time to think, be still, reflect, smile, cry, laugh, get a lil' tipsy, and be thankful some more. (special bonus being, having a promising new fella at my side, who's been doing a damn good job of making me smile and honoring my tears....hmmm....) *smile*

Business at The Lounge is good, just been taking it one day at a time, cherishing the little things, keeping a tender hold on this thing called life. Been journaling like a madwoman, and an old/new manuscript is definitely in the mix. More on all this later. Meanwhile, keep livin', loving, and do what makes you healthy and happy. Ya girl is strivin' to do the same...

Much love always!! ~Supa

Tears, Tatts, and Triumph

So ya girl is checkin' in. Still in chill-and-absorb mode, but I'm compelled to simply say thank you. Thank you to everyone - my regular readers and Blogger Fam, the lurkers and first time commenters, friends (on and offline), and fam bam - all of you who kept me close and in your thoughts and hearts and prayers. Couldn't have done it without you - believe it.

The trial started out rough and I had to stop posting about it for two reasons - one, after realizing the details were making me feel worse and pushing me back toward insanity, and two, after being "warned" by the court that even my little ole blog ramblings might have an outcome on the trial. So in true Supa fashion I busied myself, got some new tattoos, allowed myself to collapse into the comforting space of loved ones and everyday life. And yeah, that's about it. So it's all over now but not really; things never really balance out, yes the trial is done and the murderer was handed down three life sentences (I'm slightly pleased, as another trial watcher commented), and so now life will and can move forward, yet the hard fact that lil' sis still 'aint comin' home is the continual sobering reality. But I think she's happy; she's been sending me little signs. And she's free. That's what pushes me forward.

I would do some personal shout outs, but the list would be too long. Ya'll know who you are. I'll be back in a minute, a sista just needs some time and space to breeaathe. And who knows, an impromptu trip to Jamaica just might be in the mix. Yess..

Be well, Blogger Fam!

~ Supa

Trial Diaries: Continued...

Day Three

I'm good. Much better today. Decided early on that I wouldn't get any trial updates until the days end, so I could insulate myself with good thoughts, good music, and the simple graciousness of being alive. It was a beautiful day. Had a cool day at the Lounge, scheduled a breakfast meeting to do some co-op advertising and promotion with a semi-big-willie in the Leimert Park merchant community, enjoyed my South Central neighborhod on a sunny day (Bone-Thugz and Harmony were shooting a video on my street - how crazy is that - didn't realize they were still a group...) Rolled around the streets with the sunroof and my thoughts wide open. Got some special love and support via text and email. (wink) Made an impromptu trip to a day spa I'd been hearing great things about down in Koreatown, spent the eve in pamper mode. A much needed mini-mental vacay. One day at a time.

Take care, Blogger Fam.



Day Two

Okay, so I wasn't ready for Day Two. Nope nope nope. Nope no fucking way. Was I supposed to be ready to hear never known before facts (evidence) about Dena's last conversation, or her last moments on earth and at what angle she got blasted, or how this bastard actually had a baby with another woman after he killed my sister and unborn neice? (what?what?)

See, here's the deal. While the cops and the army and the district attorney were building a case against this fool over the last few years, there were facts and "details" they simply would not share with us. Said it would jeopordize the case. Said it might inflame the family. No kidding. So there are things that even I didn't know which are coming out in trial and I won't get into details but it's fresh new heartbreak. Fresh and new, alongside the old scars. And here's the even trippier part. I had the urge to call Dena to tell her how the trial is going. I can't even get into the psychology behind that right now.

And driving home, I'm thinking: shit like this changes people's lives. Drastically. Permanently. This shit is so far reaching and I wonder if, just a very small poignant if, if a person who murders, who snatches a loved one out of the arms of folks who watched her grow and believed in her and loved her to pieces, if it's even comprehensible for that murderer to imagine the ripple effect that his senseless, cowardly act has on so many lives - friends, co-workers, cousins and nieces and nephews, neighbors, law enforcement, lawyers and reporters, how so many lives will change and intersect and collide but for no other reason than his own sorry ass actions. Lives shattered, even those of his own family. He has no idea what he's done.

I'm torn. I'm torn because of how I feel about trial watching from a distance, yet knowing that I just would not be able to sit there through all this evidence. I've got kids to take care of, a business to run, and a mind to keep stable...I'll be there soon enough, just not for this part. (But still...)My presence will not change the outcome which I've already determined will be just. The trial is moving along well, which means closing testimony might happen next week and that's what I'm waiting for. Miss me with the defense's case, just miss me with all that bullshit. We know what he did.

But Dena-D: Lil' sis, you're an angel and you've been sending me support and placing little signs in my path to let me know you got my back, and I appreciate it. I really do. I've been embraced in ways large and small, unexpected and completely appreciated. From everyone who's sent me a comment on the blog, to the thoughtful and supportive emails, phone calls, and texts, to my friends and fam bam who have kept me lovingly occupied with hugs, real talk, pretty new "keep ya head up, cheer me up" shoes (thanks, Pam!), hang out sessions at The Lounge, etc. Any and all of it. Ya'll are performing a delicate form of heart surgery, and I love you for it. And trust, I'll be okay. Just need a minute to absorb and reset, and I'll be good. And everything is gonna be alright.


Trial Diaries: Intro


So today, my life unfolded simultaneously on two realms: one in a Georgia courtroom, the other, over the span of a beautiful lazy Southern California day. I got up early, got the car washed, walked the dog. Basked in the near 80 degree weather, ate breakfast in the back yard, did some laundry, hula-hooped, read in the hammock, napped. Took it reeeaaal fuckin' slow. All while a jury heard the first day of testimony in the case of my lil' sis' murder trial.

Had already decided I could spend the whole day stressin', or go through it graciously with the knowledge that justice has already been done and this trial is merely the logistics to that pre-determined end. When I called in for the day's updates, I didn't ask about the jury demographics or what the accused was wearing; just wanted the information revealed by the first witnesses. I was told about the hunter's testimony, and the circumstances surrounding exactly how he found my sister's decomposed body and I said hold on because I thought I was going to throw up. But I didn't. That's a very good sign. Not getting sick so much anymore. All around, it was a good day, as good a day as any. I feel a strange calm. I think about everything that's happened over the last four years. It didn't kill me. That must mean I'm basically fucking invincible.

Ready for Day Two.

Jagged Little Journey...

jagged: ['ja-ged] having a harsh, rough, or irregular quality

journey [jur-nee] : a traveling from one place to another, usually taking a rather long time

It's countdown time. My latest mantra: Stay busy, think positive, remain calm, breathe, focus, don't shut down or start cussin' folks out, everything is gonna be alright. Justice will be served. Repeat.

Repeat.

Repeat.

But shit dude, I can't sleep. Third night this week and I'm up past 2 a.m., hula-hooping on the cold kitchen tile (my latest exercise fad), Ipod headphones and 2pac on blast, doin' dainty Vodka shots wondering how the fuck am I gonna do this. Can't pretend like it 'aint happenin', time's up for alla that. With the media and the D.A. all up on the other end of my line, couldn't ignore it if I tried...

It's been four years a long time it's the day you've waited for all this time four years how do you feel will you be able to contain yourself it'll be the first time to confront your pregnant sister's murderer...

Shit, man. Like, what am I supposed to say...(do all you reporters ask the same dumb ass questions? how do you think I feel, genius? you want me to get all heated & gully so I can get lectured again by those nice Georgia detectives about the sentences and fines for making terrorist threats against the accused?) Nah. I don't even go there lately. All I do say is: I'll be there.

Can't really call the rest.

No one really knows what it does to you. It changes you; but in ways they don't readily see. After all, you do resume some semblance of "normal." Folks see you up and about, hair combed, speaking coherently, occasionally smiling, and they convince themselves you're beyond the worst of it. You'll live. They don't know..not really. Only you know the sleeplessness, the late night conversations with God and ghosts...the hole left in and around your life, that cold breezy place where it seems nothing good sticks. You wonder what your life would have looked like "if", what their life would have been like "if", and you lay deep in the night and see the sun rise before realizing it doesn't even matter. There is no "if". There is only now.

And so, lil' sis' murder trial is set to begin March 5th. Like, for real for real.

So I hula-hoop, listen to music, stay busy, think positive. Remain focused. Try not to cuss nobody out. Do dainty vodka shots, daydream, furiously rework my gratitude list, stay in the moment and write it all down. And pray.

That they keep him far enough away from me in court.

Barack in Los Angeles...

And yep, Supa was there screaming at the rally like it was circa 1987 at an LL Cool J concert.
GO BARACK!

Supa on Flics: Sunshine & Scotland

Little Miss Sunshine

I loved this freakin' movie. Somewhat obsessed with it now, really..Have never loved Steve Carrell more than in this role!


The Last King of Scotland

Didn't love this movie. Love Foresses' acting ass, but the script was
wack on a few levels, and the fictional (white boy) character really
got on Supa's nerves. Hope the homie Ghost Dog wins the Oscar
though. As usual, with his acting chops he basically morphed into Idi Amin. Not that that's a good thing, but..you know. He and Kerri's Washington's Ugandan accents were on point. That's...about it.


Who saw King of Scotland and didn't think it sucked? Do tell!

And The Supa Saga..continues

And so it is, in this big beautiful thing called life: Things come together, things fall apart. Supa is once again at a point in her life where there is both celebration and mourning; where she is very much reaching toward the future and yet stuck in the past, where memories and magic intertwine, dance, collide...

But let's begin at the beginning. Ya'll have most def been there with/for me during the high times and zany moments, like this and this and this and this and this; and ya'll have also seen me through the valleys and more challenging times like this...and this...and this and this. Man, it's been a helluva ride, yes?

Well Blogger Fam, it 'aint over..

So check it. This the part where I tell you what your girl has been up to, during all this sporadic blog posting and shyt. Looong story short - when I took a leave from the Corporate Slave Ship (C.S.S.) last summer, it was because I just needed to grieve, work some shit out within myself and figure out what I really (as in really) wanted to do with the rest of my life. Don't misunderstand,my office gig was hella cool, a sista was the golden child up in that piece, I could get away with being spoiled and a bit lazy. Problem was - I wasn't passionate about the work I was doing. From jump it had always been "a job," which for years and years served it's purpose, helped maintain a comfortable family lifestyle, you know the drill. I always knew I wasn't the forever and ever square gig kind of chick, but yo, those years can sneak up on you before you can plot your escape. I looked up one day and realized I was sleepwalking. Caught up in the Matrix, big time. Loved my co-workers to death, but the work itself was just bland, uninspiring, and unchallenging, and uncreative as fuck.

I'd gotten caught in the routine: Get up, drag self to work, deal with corporate life and assholes, take long unauthorized lunches, come back to my office, shop online and blog, watch the clock, go home, manage kids and home life, be a grouch, go to sleep. This tired cycle probably contributed to why I couldn't ever seem to get my ass up and to work on time. Ha. In a nutshell - paper pushing and a cushy salary were starting to cost me too much. Emotionally, spiritually, creatively. I was doing something I promised myself I'd never do. Go to sleep on my life.

So, I got some devastating, life-altering wake-up jolts during my sleepwalking years: divorce, the death of my mom, the murder of my sis, the sudden death of a dear sisterfriend, on top of the emotional energy distributed during wifedom and motherhood, etc. etc., let's just say I graduated to an epic what-the-hell-am-I-doing-in-my-life type crisis - and that's when I finally said - Fuck It. I gotta unplug. Bout to toss all these balls I've been juggling in my life, let 'em fall, then I'll decide which ones I'm gonna pick back up. I'm about to figure out how to create a life that makes me happy to get up in the morning. And that was the beginning of an unsure, scary, exciting, and very necessary journey..

Oh. My bad. This was supposed to be long story short...

SO, during my time off, I traveled a bit, enjoyed myself and my kids and just being in my own flow, dropped some folks, reconnected with some folks, spent a considerable amount of time writing and journaling, got another tattoo, took up Tai Chi, finally went to school for something I've always wanted to do, enrolled an accelerated program to become a certified massage therapist with a specialization in Sports Therapy... graduated in the top of my class, realized that not only did I enjoy it immensely but I was also GOOD at it...(and an extra perk is that doing bodywork actually helps me with my writing...I'm more grounded..more energy flowing..or something. Who knew?!)

AND...around the same time, a friend of mine hipped me to a cute little space in the Black Greenwich Village aka Leimert Park in Los Angeles, it was the perfect spot (great location, great lease) to create this new vision of mine - I'd always always wanted to open a Tea Lounge (think Starbucks, but a lil' cozier. and with teas from all over the world...) So. (For real now.) Long story short, is that I've opened my own business called The Body Lounge. (yes!) Which has allowed me to "marry" a few of my passions - body products (I'm a product fanatic), herbal and exotic teas (there is a lounge on-site) and bodywork (massage, reflexology, all that good stuff) SO! The last few months have been me finishing school, getting my licenses, renovating my space, all the start-up stuff (furnishings, equipments, marketing, products, teas, etc), and....I opened doors up a few weeks ago. See?

the exotic tea lounge...where u get your lounge on. good vibes, man!

"Jump, and the net will appear"
"There is the risk you cannot afford to take -and there is the risk you can't affort not to take. "

More on this later. Here's some more pics (yahoo photos was trippin, click on The Body Lounge set in Flickr) if you want to take a look. Yay!! And the West Coast Bloggin' Hotties (Glam, Sangin' Diva, That Girl Tam, and Pattyopolis) will be rollin' thru for a lil' reunion real soon! We might give ya'll some pics. Maybe :) But I gotta shout out all my peeps who supported and believed in me from the scary beginning (ya'll sayin' I should start my own business, what is you crazy?!?!) to the wonderful result, and especially much props to anyone who came over and helped me renovate. And paint!! Auntie, Tony, Demitri, Tonya, Shonnie Mack, Kwesi, Terry, Jessie, K. Bilal, Sylvia, Ruff Ryders #1 and #2, there's more...but much love to my fam and peeps who gave me the emotional support & cheerleading as well. Not those ones who said..leaving your job?, ooohh, aren't you scared, do you know what you're doing, I don't know about alla that... But the ones who said hell yeah, plan your work and work your plan, what do you need and how can I help! Ya'll are fucking priceless. (And yo, Dave: I don't do 3,000 mile outcalls, sorry babe. Gotta find you a therapist more local! Try Brooklyn..)

"..damn it feels good to be alive/no matter what we've survived/no matter what, we still survive"

And then...(sigh) Got word last week that my lil' sis' murder trial is starting. Yep. After all the false starts and continuances over the last year and a half - it appears that it's really about to go down. Jury selection begins next week, trial set to start March 5th. Needless to say, it's the day the family has waited for - and I've had so much anxiety, waves of overwhelming sadness, fear, anger, etc. since I got the word. It's a trip. While I was speaking with the Supa-Ex the otha night, he did his best to assure me: we'll get through this...think of those who never get a trial for their loved ones...we knows what he did, he knows what he did..

And all I could think of was: When I step myself in that courtroom..that means..she's really dead. Funny how the mind works. I don't think I ever really believed she was gone - even at her funeral. That's some strange, trippy shit.

So, that's it Blogger Fam!

New business, new path in life, blessings, and a murder trial.

"After chaos, we get clarity..."


It's all a wonderful tragedy. I'm grateful for it all. Guess the lowest lows allow me to feel, and truly appreciate, the highest highs - and all the beautiful simple things in between.

Peace and love, and I hope all is wonderful in your worlds! I told ya I'd let you know what a sistas been up to - and it's all here! Holla atcha girl!

Much love,

Supa.
(striving to stay Spiritual.Unstoppable.Passionate.Authentic.)

HBO Documentary: Bastards of the Party

Raised in the Athens Park neighborhood of Los Angeles, Cle "Bone" Sloan was four years old when his father died, and 12 when he became a member of the Bloods. Now an inactive member of the notorious gang, Sloan looks back at the history of black gangs in his city and makes a powerful call for change in modern gang culture with his insightful documentary, BASTARDS OF THE PARTY.

Acclaimed feature film director Antoine Fuqua ("Training Day") produces along with Sloan, who also directs.

Haunted by his involvement in the Bloods' pervasive culture of violence, Sloan wanted to explore where it all began. In researching the subject, he discovered that the roots of black gangs were nurtured within a distinct political landscape. BASTARDS OF THE PARTY traces the development of black gangs in Los Angeles from the late 1940s, through the charged atmosphere of the '60s and '70s, to the breakdown of community in the '80s and '90s, and the brief truce between the Crips and Bloods that followed the Rodney King riots in 1992. Among the gangs that figure in the story are the Spook- hunters, Farmers, Slauscons, Businessmen and Gladiators. Read entire article here

The documentary features interviews with past and current gang members from the Bloods and Crips; LA historian Mike Davis, whose book "City of Quartz" sparked Sloan's own project; former FBI agent Wes Swearingen; and Geronimo Pratt, the former Black Panther Party minister of defense, among others.

Supa says: Watch this shit, yo!

Ummm...

You know a sista's been busy when it's the fifth of February and she 'aint even done a Black History Post....Supa's bad!! Hope all is well in your world's Blogger fam! (a personal update post coming real soon promise! Meanwhile - what's good with ya'll?!?!)


PHILIPPINES By Runoko Rashidi -Photo courtesy of Alibata.org

“There are black Negroes in this island who pay tribute to no one.” —Early Spanish historian

Although the great majority of the people of the Philippines are Tagalog, the country is not ethnically homogeneous. In spite of their small numbers the original inhabitants of the Philippines are the Agta (diminutive Africoids), who still live there in some numbers and are commonly and pejoratively called Pygmies, Negritos and Aeta, and a variety of other names based upon their specific locale. In regards to phenotype, broadly speaking, the Agta can be described as physically small and unusually short in stature,dark-skinned, spiral-haired and broad-nosed. They are an extremely ancient people and, I believe, close representatives of the world’s earliest modern humans....Continue reading article here

Excuses, excuses....

for why Supa can't get any writing done...

(picture of the Pooch saying "rub me, dammit!"

....the Pooch lays all over the laptop!!

Plus - it's been cold. It snowed in LA a few days ago. Colder here than in New Year City! Unfuckingbelievable.

Happy weekend, stay beautiful! And warm.

Supa Sick Wrap-Up...

Since Supa's been on her back for the last seven plus days (and not in the FUN way), she's got some quality tv-dvd-movie watching and book reading under her belt!

Quick wrap-up as follows:


Walking In Circles Before Lying Down(book), by Merril Markoe


Quick, funny, interesting read. Main character is a sarcastic witty chick from a fantastically dysfunctional family. Bitch got issues! Makes shitty choices in men, and then begins to hear her dog talk - that's when everything hits the fan. Story takes place in LA.

Supa gives it a B-.





Bad Education (La Mala Educacion) written and directed by Pedro Almodovar. Foreign flick by one of Supa's favorite Spanish filmmakers. Also starring that Mexican hottie Gael Garcia Bernal. (Ai', papi..) The movie had been sitting in my TiVo queue for months. Finally watched it. Eh. It was ai'ight. Liked Talk to Her and All About My Mother much better. C--


Capote, starring Phillip Seymour Hoffman. Wanted to watch about the dude who wrote my beloved Breakfast At Tiffany's. The Theraflu musta kicked in, 'cause I fell asleep.

Grade: ????


The Devil Wears Prada....ummm... Hated It. Next.

Grade: F----------


The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou

Okay...Supa is in love with this flick!!! Love love love. Love Bill Murray. Love the characters, the script, the acting, the quirkiness of this whole film. Love. Am watching it as I type. Love.

Grade: A++++++



30 Rock on NBC starring Tina Fey, Tracey Morgan, Alec Baldwin.

This show is fucking hilarious. No shit. It comes on tonight, so watch it.


PS - Blogger Fam, Supa knows she's done a muy terrible job of checking in on all her peeps blogs lately, please forgive, and rest assured that she's been up to very wonderful, time-consuming things and will let you in on it all very very soon!!!

PPS - Hell naw I 'aint pregnant or gettin' married. Ya'll should know better than that.

Stay fabulous! Stay tuned!

Theraflu Junkie....

Man...just when Supa started braggin' that she hadn't been sick since this...she had to go out on New Year's Eve thinkin' she was all cute with the chesticles showin' and declining appropriate outerwear....(and got sick!), and now she's been laid up ever since. Gah! Oh well. Might as well get this lil' bout of the sniffles out the way, 'cause the '07 is gonna bring BIG BEAUTIFUL THINGS!

'Aint that right, Blogger Fam!! Done already claimed it. (PS -Supa is toiling away on a big big project that she will unveil very shortly...) Until then, Happy Prosperous Exciting New Year!!!

Oh, and update: The trial has now been postponed until March. (bastard got another continuance) Guess the universe knew I wasn't ready yet. I'm relieved. Gives me more time to...heal. Prepare? Whatever.

Supa, out!