The following are excerpts from my handwritten journal, along with explanatory notes.
April 4, 2006
I was born to do this. I was born to do this. There will be blood on the paper because this is the only thing I know beyond myself. It is myself.
That’s it. Do you feel the tingling? Someone sitting in another place, doing another thing, is having an impact on your life. The moment before the pendulum repeats its arc. No stopping now. Do it. Continue reading
(Note: If you are new to my blog, read these two stories first; Slow Pirouette for the Dancing Girl and The Baby Powder Incident.)
Caption: Christmas with my first foster mother, 1 year old.
Caption: Christmas with my first foster mother, 1 year old.
Twenty years ago this Christmas, I had recently moved to live with my grandparents in Florida. I left my foster home with Pearl in Boston with just the clothes I had on. I arrived at a house on the water with gardenia bushes out back with no toys and nothing to wear. I was starting over in the Sunshine State. I turned eight the month before Christmas. Continue reading
This is a free write, which means I’m not caring about the literary value of this entry or whether I use a dash where I should use a semi-colon. I just need to write and remember where I heard this song that’s stuck in my head.
I’ve been running all over creation, living from ticket to ticket and out of pink suitcases, briefcases, sneakers, iPods and mittens. I think I have issues with pink addiction.
I’ve been thinking a lot about soundtracks for a future entry I’m writing. Have you ever noticed that a couple of days will go by, and all these previously meaningful or presently pertinent or just plain great songs keep playing wherever you go? Continue reading
“Hot damn ho, here we go again.
Light as a rock, bitch. Hard as a cock, bitch.
This shit knock for blocks through hardtops
in the parkin’ lots, where my nigga Rock like to spark-a-lot.
My Brook-lyn style speak for itself.
Like a wrestler, another notch under my belt.
The embezzler, chrome treasurer,
the U-N-O competitor, I’m ten steps ahead of ya.”
– Lil’ Kim, “Quiet Storm” remix w/Mobb Deep.
(For more on what this song means to me, read “Music Coursing Through My Veins”.)
There is an energy that connects all of us and everything we come into contact with. If you can get close enough to touch someone, you can change them just by being that near to them. Call it magnetism or attraction – what you want is drawn to you in direct proportion to how much you want it. The fact that I need a name for it prevents me from trying to talk about it, so the lesson or the message eludes me. But other people who have this knowledge and ability know what I’m talking about without needing a label. Continue reading
Posted in Life
Tagged energy, gratitude, inspiration, Life, manifestation, music, Writing
NOTE: This post was originally published on a different blog of mine in 2006.
I don’t think I’ve ever properly thanked the bundle of you who have signed on to read everything I dish out, even when it’s crap or a bunch of pictures or a love poem.
You know what? I really appreciate that you’ve stuck around this long. (Yes, Original Hater, that includes you, too.) I hope you’re enjoying the new profile page, because I designed it for you. I wanted to make it easier to access all of my stories, even the crappy ones that you may have missed at the beginning. All of the blog links should be fixed now, so please check them out. Consider it a token of appreciation – and an appropriate one, as one of my very first blog subscribers did the coding for me. Continue reading
Dangerously Enthusiastic 