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
