Eunice 3.1.2006 MARRIAGE DRAMA!

Mrs. Eunice,

What is going on? Let me give it a few guesses. Romeo is not showing you enough affection. He works, gives a little, or more than a little, or hell, no help at all with the kids. (I don’t know, I’m not there.) He tries to maintain his health, exercises, etc. He’s trying to do well at his job, to be somebody in the company with status and a larger paycheck. He’s helping you out with the stores and you both are working on strategy to open more stores, or sell them; stack that money for retirement, kids’ college education, or invest it in a new line of business.

Now for some reason or another, you two do not communicate well. You two had or have trust issues. Have you ever found some blood and cum sucking, home wrecking tricks’ number in his phone? If he doesn’t talk to you, I know part of the reason why. Eunice, when I first met you, you did not leave me with the greatest impression. It was in Billings, Montana; you were wining and complaining about not having anything to wear out, and how Romeo had talked about this pair of jeans he suggested you wear. They were fitting and they looked nice on you; Levis, I think they were. The next complaint was at the function we went to and three other couples were at the table. I think it was a Tyler Perry Play, or something similar. You were complaining because he was trying to split his attention between you and I; that he wasn’t hugging you and holding your hand.

Let me tell you something about men. All of that complaining and lamenting about things small as a grain of salt causes nothing but a shut down in us. If you wanted his and your hand to connect, why didn’t you grab his hand? And even when you are doing something and it seems like your man isn’t responding the way you want him to, he may be responding in a different unknown way. Like say for example at the table if you had grabbed his hand, and he may not have acknowledged the fact, but kept on talking with me; would he be ignoring you? On the surface and to a certain type of woman, it would seem so. But in reality; internally, and to another type of woman, he thought to himself, “I love my wife; I love the fact that she wants my hand in connection with hers, and she took the silent initiative to make the connection. I Love Her! I’ll have to return a similar gesture to her, or even a greater gesture in the near future.” That certain type of woman I’m talking about is beautiful and she knows it. She’s confident in herself, in her situation.

At that point in time, you were younger then, had no kids; both you and Romeo had good jobs, making good paper. You were saving to purchase your first home, and to accomplish what you have right now. You two probably have more to accomplish, but you are about to fuck it all up; throwing static in the plans. That’s right, YOU!

Let me break this down for you as to why I am saying YOU! You new age independent bitches have gotten the patriarchal hierarchy of the family structure twisted. You are forgetting that you are the right hand that washes the left of your man and keeps him clean. You are the back-bone that keeps your man standing; for without you and your support, he is and shall be crippled and paralyzed. You are supposed to walk behind your man to watch his back. But now you want to walk side by side. And guess what, we men are cool with that. We don’t want you to be peons and ponds in the game. We want you to be that queen by our side on the throne. But you women these days are trying to be the damn king and/or beat him at the game running the kingdom. You are not trusting the king, his judgement, criticizing his decisions, and puncturing his spirit. You mock the king, and in essence, the kingdom which was under his rule, begins to, and eventually will crumble. You are destroying your king and kingdom which YOU helped him build and maintain. You are not trusting your king because you are listening to peasants whose kingdoms are half the size or even smaller in size than yours, tell you stories of what other kings do and have done; therefore, your king MIGHT be doing them also. But before you buy into what the peasants are selling you, stop and think that they may be trying to see your kingdom fall so theirs can look better.

There is something else; I know you have a competitive spirit, and you and Romeo both speak in terms of, “I wish I was you, you got it good in this relationship or in this life.” What the hell is that? You have been married for 7,8,9, 10 years. You both should be moving in one direction: He gets a raise, you should be happy and joking, more money and shopping for you. You get your MBA, “let’s celebrate, my baby is intelligent, beautiful and no slouch in the bedroom neither.” You need help with the kids, he got you in that department You need help with the stores, he got that for you. He has to work late, you got home ready for him when he gets home. In a marriage, you shouldn’t be that competitive and causing tension by always trying to compare and exploit the flaws of one another. Yeah, so you will always find flaws in someone, but if it really bothers you, ask your partner to correct the flaw. But maybe you two are past the point of logical communication.

I know in this past relationship with Watrina, I talked and tried to work shit out with her more than with any other girl. I was in love for the first time since twelfth grade, but because of her youth, talking to other guys, seemingly ignoring our attempt at serious communication to fix problems; things going back to the same cycle a month after our talk; doing the, “get out” act twice before this last time, and doing stupid shit trying to spark ire and jealously in me that I ignored; last year, I loved her less and was at the point of not caring to communicate with her. By the time she threw me out this last time, due to her insecurity and accusation of me cheating, and trying or rather disrespecting issues we had talked about previously, I was completely out of love with no need to talk. I’m gone, do not miss her and have no thought of going back. So due to her drama and bullshit, sort of like what you have been giving Romeo, I went from – “she’s smart and intelligent; she has a good job making good money; we could build a nice future together and make some business power moves; her daughter is smart (may be a famous entertainer some day); her daughter and my daughter get along well; she is caring, giving and kind hearted; she is beautiful and our sex is electric and very pleasurable;” – all of those feelings and thoughts to FUCK HER! I have no feeling or longing for her; no love left for her, all because of the same drama, distrust and grief you give Romeo.

What, this is like the third time I know of that he has left his house to spend a week or two elsewhere. Soon enough he’s gonna take the hurt and he is gonna stay gone; work out visitation, money, give you the house and wait for the divorce to go through, take the alimony and child support hit and that will be that. You are working your way to that point.

I talked to him and this time around there was exasperation that I never heard before when talking about this situation. And maybe you’re a little weary also of him and his actions and/or non-reactions to your problems. If you find him and/or he finds you to be that cantankerous of an individual, then you both need to be adults and come to the decision mutually; you are not ultimately compatible, and this shit is not good for your kids especially Conotry.

I thought I was on my way to marrying Watrina just as you think you are gonna stay together and work it out through all of the continuous drama because you are compatible on so many levels, but if you are not ultimately compatible, as Donnette and I were not, one of these drama episodes of so-called separation is gonna be THE END!

Eunice, you are beautiful; you have a beautiful husband’ you have a beautiful home; you have two beautiful children and two beautiful cars. Now what’s fuckin’ with that? YOU ARE !

Take it from me, if Romeo is not responding to the drama, it’s not another woman, it’s best for a man to ignore that shit rather than scream and holla and stress.

Jrnl Entry No. 1.4.2004

Life has landed me in Morrow Georgia about 20 minutes south of Atlanta. I left N.Y. in a hurry, maybe too much of a hurry. I found an ATM card of this guy who has either fucked my ex-girlfriend or he is just persistent in his efforts to be her friend until he gets her in the right place and time to fuck her when she has her guard down. He paid for her a Hawaii trip two years ago, and she claims he slept on the floor, which I highly doubt. I found one ATM card of  his a month ago and I left her for three days. With this second card, I think I’m gone for good.

I kind of think she wants me gone. We’ve argued about this guy Thurston since the Hawaii trip. I seriously expressed my dislike and comfortlessness (not a word) and she seriously has discarded my feelings on the subject. So maybe this was her nice way of or round about in-direct way of getting me out of her life. Well, when a bitch wants you gone, you can force yourself through the bullshit and stay or you can just leave. I chose the ladder; no crying, asking why, no tearing up shit, just pack ya shit and leave.I’m having small thoughts of going back, but I can’t trust her to leave this guy alone, and I’m not dealing with that.

So I’m in Georgia now, I’m thinking to find me a beautiful, thick, big booty, dark to brown skinned girl, who wears her own hair, to love. I’m thinking of starting a long distance relationship with Shakira, she’s my cousin Carla’s 1st cousin on her father’s side. Shakira is 22, a senior in college, and beautiful, and has some big tidys. But do I really wanna try to be with someone 8 yrs my junior. I already tried that with someone 6 yrs my junior and look where I’m at; searching for a new love.

People say I’m hurt, but I really ain’t. You hurt when you at home crying to ya momma like, “why don’t she love me.” I’m in Georgia kicking it. I don’ even busted two nuts with another bitch’ now how is that for hurt? I love myself too much to be sittin’ around sulkin over some bitch who didn’t appreciate me and all of my qualities.

I’m missing New York, but I know all it will take is one bite of a sweet, round ass, Georgia peach to make me forget all about it and Watrina. I wanted the New York life, the glory of making it in the hardest city in the world to make it in. I wanted the music industry. I’m goin through some serious withdrawal symptoms over these past three days, and that is what this letter is about; to ease my symptoms of withdrawal. Funny though, my urges to call Watrina and hear what she has to say, and maybe go back to what I called home, are not that strong.

I have this feeling that this move could turn out for the best, especially once I get the hell outta my aunts smoky ass house. She and her son are depressing me. All she does is sit on the couch all day and puff on cigarettes. All he does is sleep until it’s time for him to work his 4 PM – 12 AM security guard shift. He don’t go nowhere else, wears a busted fro, ain’t got no style, and no bitches. I think at age 21, he is still al virgin. It probably ain’t safe around here. Those are the type that kill everybody in they sleep and then kill themselves, or call the cops and plead insanity.

I’m in a toss up right now, but really I’m not because I ain’t goin back to Watrina after this. I’M THROUGH!

I don’t know what my future holds but its gotta hold something better than the bitch I’m thinking of spending my life with having many male friends who don’t seem like friends at all, and one nigga giving her his ATM card.

Queen and Slim

“This is directed to whoever in listening range / A yo the whole state of thangs in this world bout to change” (Black Thought of The Roots “The Next Movement” Things Fall Apart album, 1999). I say that to say Lena Waithe (screenplay writer of Queen and Slim) has an uncanny ability of bringing across significant, real, Black cultural expression unmatched by nearly all who have come before her. 
Enter: QUEEN AND SLIM
When I go to a movie, I do not like to research what it will be about. When I saw posters pop up in and around Los Angeles for the film Queen and Slim, my first thought was that it was about a drug dealer in the 80s and his girl. As you may have heard my vociferous harangues on “NO MORE JIM CROW: movies, plays, books, television series”; the ad poster alone is the antipode of Jim Crow, so I was all aboard and ready to go see 10:30 PM Thanksgiving night.
You have a beautiful young lawyer with anxiety issues played by Jodie Turner-Smith. You have a beautiful, caring young black male played by Daniel Kaluuya, who loves his family; particularly his father (in a world where Black men aren’t normally depicted as having a proclivity toward family, NOR HAVING FATHERS!).
Queen and Slim are out on a Tinder date because she was bored and liked his lonely lorn looking photo and “I felt sorry for you”, she tells him at dinner. 
After the dinner on the ride home to drop her off is where things get FASTIDIOUS! A bond starts to form, well, for no other reason than, it has to! And from the forming of this bond on this in-fortuitous journey, is where the beauty of the film starts to unfold. 
What began to unfold was, literally a modern age story of Harriet Tubman and The Underground Railroad in the opposite direction, South.  
In the unfolding of this journey, I found myself being shot in the heart with moments of love and artistic expression.
When Queen and Slim arrive at her uncle Earl’s (Bokeem Woodbine) house in New Orleans, a weird (maybe not so weird within the Black Community) back-end family love support connection happens. 
As Queen and Slim are forced to leave her Uncle’s house, just before they hop into their new set of wheels begrudgingly bequeathed to them by her uncle, two modern art paintings (if I was an artist I’d paint them) unfold. 1. The young lady dressed in a tight mini-skirt and rubber rain boots, bending down as Queen’s uncle bids his niece an “I love you” and goodbye outside the car window; the picture of the car, him at the window and the young lady in the mini-skirt bent down, was an aesthetic I found endearing. 2. As the car pulls off, the young lady in the mini skirt rises from her knelt position; she and Queen’s uncle, with their backs turned to the camera, watch it ride off into the sunshine; on cue, Roy Ayers “Sunshine” starts to play as scene music. 
Queen and Slim continuing on their journey, the audience starts to learn, are becoming immortalized and heroic and supported by the Black community on their road to freedom. 
On a stop at a live music bar, a second date of sorts to the first Tinder date; as Slim goes to order a drink, an older female bar tender flirts with him a little. When he goes to pay for the drinks, a beautiful, almost tear jerking, exchange of community love and support happens. 
At the end of the film, the last shot of Bokeem Woodbine, we’ve all (especially men) had that expression on our face at that very moment.
Three problems I had with the film: 1. The dereliction of duty by a Black police officer in the film could have astounding real life effects on the hiring of Black police officers throughout the nation. 2. The actions of the young man from the auto repair shop could continue to fuel police shootings and killings of young Black males in America. 3. THE ENDING; though realistic and highly likely, and emotionally charged, I would have liked to see a different less protracted ending to Queen and Slim’s Journey.
Even with those three complaints; ALL STARS, ALL-GREEN TOMATOES, ALL BLACK EVERYTHING, ACCOLADES FOR THIS FILM: QUEEN AND SLIM! 

@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. IX

do u ever notice how hard it is 2 get hired for a job. even after multiple calls from many employers, u can not seem to close the deal. why?

do u recognize potential employers & recruiters call based upon ur resume, but upon speaking 2 u, ur suddenly missing a qualification. why?

White Americans are majority racist. They are uncomfortable being around Black American people; for all of their education and so-called intelligence and open minds, they have not quite figured out the protocol to working with Black Americans.

The reason you get so many calls is you have a very American sounding name: Christopher Smith. Your background is even on par with that of White Americans: MBA, CPA, 7 Years work experience. But once they get you on that telephone and you start talking, they quickly notice the speech inflections and/or deep voice; a dead tale you are Black American. I think most have a clandestine edict from the superiors of the company to either hire a Black American or not to. If it’s a green light for a Black American in that particular position for the company, you may get an interview.

Sometimes you’ll notice on the interview the White American person’s discomfort in speaking with you; as much as they try to hide it, it’s saliently in their eyes. I recall in two separate interviews with White American males, each rolled their eyes as if what I was saying to him was completely irrelevant, even though when it was their turn to speak, they each seemed like affable guys whom I could have easily gotten along with as my superior; the interviewers thought otherwise. In one particular interview, the interviewer began riddling off to me regarding things I should say in subsequent interviews with other companies and suggested I could be a CPA on a music tour of recording artist or as a business manager of artist, and he rushed me out of his office before I could finish my closing statement. I never heard back from him since that interview, though I followed up twice with him regarding the position:

I am following up with you regarding our personal interview Oct 24, 2012.

Is there anything you would like to ask me, or would you like to schedule another meeting to talk; as it seems we rushed through our first interview?

What I got from the interview was that you are a great guy that I would be delighted to work under the direction of. As I have already reiterated to you, I know the company brand and would love to be a part of the team at this wonderful growth stage of your corporate life cycle; this seems like the perfect opportunity I am searching for.

What I believe you should have taken away from our meeting is a guy with a great personality to fit into the organization, who is also articulate and knowledgeable in accounting with the skills to take on the challenges of the position.


If there are any concerns you may have, please let us have a conversation in an attempt to quell them.

Thank you for your consideration. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

> I am following up with you regarding our interview for the Corporate Controller position, in reference to where you’re at with your selection process.
>
> I think you will not find a better candidate with his/her CPA, who is familiar with your brand and excited about its growth potential.
>
> Thank you for your consideration. I look forward to hearing from you soon.

Another reason for the apprehension of White Americans hiring Black Americans is often times self-experienced tales of lethargy and lack of details in performing the job. They do not believe regardless of what our degrees may be or how long we’ve been on a previous job or how arduous a state examination we’ve passed, that we will do the job efficiently and thoroughly, and they do not want to take the chance. Even if you look them dead in the eye and say, “I’ve made past mistakes, I’ve learned from those mistakes and I am ready to roll up my sleeves and dedicate myself to the service of learning and performing the challenges of this job” Due to past experience with other Black American hires, THEY DO NOT BELIEVE YOU! Black Americans receive no second chances.

As opposed to divulging how they really feel about us in an effort to come to rapprochement and that we may correct the problems we have, they’d rather ignore it and try to hire around us, etc. In addition to that, in the spirit of nationalism, nepotism and racism, they’d also rather give the salary and position to a White American woman or man. They do not feel you, as a Black American person deserves it, no matter how well you’re dressed, how articulate you are in speaking about your experience, they do not want you past a certain level (this very day it is still noted that Black Americans experience longer search times and receive less pay than both White American men and women). In accounting, that level seems to be Senior Accountant $70K, while the $90K – $120K Accounting Manager and/or Controller/Director of Accounting roles go to a White American or any other ethnicity than Black American who is younger than you.

A Certified Public Accountant  Examination, passing all four parts, is supposed to spell aptitude, attention to detail, work ethic, integrity, dedication and passion to move forward in the profession; for a Black American male like me, employers did not get the memo. But according to Malcolm Gladwell’s “Outliers”, this was the same discrimination process which created all of the great Jewish New York City lawyers born in the years approximate to 1930; in the late 1950s to 1960, prestigious downtown Wall Street law firms would not touch them (Jewish American Lawyers), even told them so to their faces after putting them through a rigorous interview process (illegal today; these days they call you on the phone, listen to nothing but your elocution to determine if you are Black American as they ask you questions for 10 minutes, cordially and properly end the call and never call you ever again, ignore your follow-up e-mails unless you press them, in which case they say, “we’ve moved on with another candidate who’s a better fit); therefore, the Jewish lawyers started their own firms (as I have), took the legal profession squalid work rejected by the top firms, in turn helping greatly to hone skills in particular areas of law such as corporate mergers and acquisitions which later redounded into torrential money rain makers; thus today, the prominent Jewish law firms with 1000 lawyers and the 80 year old Jewish partners.

Jrnl Entry No. 9.25.2003

So today is my daughter Janelle’s birthday. She is – years old. I called her early this morning just to say Happy Birthday really, not to talk like I usually do. Yeah, I remember when she was born. I thought I had life all figured out. I had a nice job working at Circle K Corporation, my first job out of college which it took me six months to find. I was making $25,000 a year, living with my mother, saving money, shopping a little, etc. I think I saved 5,000.00 in a year. Janelle’s mother went for child support and they awarded her $389.00 a month. She walked out of the court room happy like she’d just hit the lotto, maybe in an effort to try and piss me off. But I didn’t care cause even minus that amount, I was still bringing home more than I’d ever made before. I was still saving. With the decision to become a Hip Hop producer, I bought an ARS 10 Sampling Keyboard for $2,000.00 and starting making Hip Hop songs.

A little after that, my 1986 Oldsmobile Ninety Eight broke completely down and I had to buy a new car. I bought a brand new Chevy Malibu. After the car purchase, with payments and insurance, my pocket was low. At that point, I decided to really work on my move to New York City. I was two years in at Circle K; they had just given me a lateral promotion (meaning more responsibility with no talk of more money). Just as the change was about to take effect, I’d found me a job at this company in Brooklyn called The Italian Job, a mob spin-off legal business. I was making $34,500.00 which was only enough for my needs and bill responsibility; no money left to shop, go out, nothing. After about a year of that shit, I stopped paying my car insurance for a little extra cash, which ended up being dissolved by this new credit card I transferred to for a lower interest rate in exchange for higher minimum payments; $100.00 more a month. That’s what I get for not reading the fine print.

I really was starting to hate my job also, so much so that I stopped working because it seemed as if I was not doing anything important or learning anything. I got fired a week before the Sept 11, 2001 terrorist attack. After that, it took me six months to find another job. There were plenty of jobs out there it seemed; I went on 22 interviews before I finally got hired somewhere, which was at an advertising agency. It was a cool job, no dress code, open-bar on Fridays after work and friendly people for the most part.

I really learned my job after the guy who hired me left and this Italian lady came on board. She didn’t know what she doing so I had to learn the job with her. One thing I understood better than she was the EAS Accounting Software they had. After she and I came to an understanding of all the changes she wanted as far as my work went, she challenged every piece of work I did. When I met her challenges and began answering her questions before she asked them, she made up some bullshit to tack on to the official warning I received concerning my underperformance, according to her standard, and I was fired. I had her all figured out. Told myself, “Just do your duties, ignore her attempts to get on your nerves, and everything will be alright.” Everything was not alright. Now, I’m going on another six months of being unemployed but this time around, there aren’t many jobs out there. The economy is getting weaker by the week. I’ve only been on about five interviews.

I moved to New York to work as an accountant and to try to get work as a Hip Hop producer, neither, especially the Hip Hop production, are working out for me. If I wasn’t living with my girlfriend, I’d be on my way to being homeless right now. She thinks I eat too much salt and butter, and at age –, I’m on my way to a heart attack. I say to her, “what I got to live for?’ She says, “life is a precious gift.” She says that shit because just like me; at age –, she’s making $56,000 on her job; she’s able to take care of her daughter; she shops and buys expensive clothing; she’s doing, so it seems, better than her friends; she just moved from one room in the projects to a two bedroom apartment with nice wooden floors; and she just recently purchased equipment to start making clothing in pursuit of her dream to open a children’s clothing line store called Queen by Queen. She’s young and ambitious just like I was with the world ahead of her with her dreams.

Me, I’m starting to come to reality that my Hip Hop dreams may never materialize. I’m –; I have not a dime in the bank; my credit has gone bad; I ain’t got a job. So yes, what this life is presenting me right now is shit. What the world is presenting Watrina is sugar right now and probably for the future also. So she, in essence, would be saying some shit like, “life is such a precious gift.” Everybody says that shit when they are on their feet. I wanna hear a homeless New Yorker, on the street, in the cold of winter, say that shit. When I hear them say it, on the street, on a cold Christmas night, then maybe I’ll start singing the same song. But hearing that shit from people like Mary J Blige: who has millions of dollars, and has sold millions of records, and is so spiritually fulfilled now that she has a real man, not afraid of her success, who is gonna marry her; my response is, “shut the fuck up witt that bullshit.” Mary J wasn’t singing that same shit when was drinking, smoking, sniffing, and being in a relationship every other year with any male R&B singer who said hello to her. Lauryn Hill wants to accept grammy awards, preaching, “the money don’t matter, God matters.” This after the group she was in sold 13 million records of one album worldwide, making all three members millionaires. After that, three years later her solo album sold about 10 million worldwide, to make her more of a millionaire. When you’re a millionaire, the money don’t matter. When you have a good job making decent money, a beautiful intelligent daughter, and a nice apartment outside the New York City Housing Authority Projects, life is precious. My response to that shit is …….!

@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. VIII

stp being lazy n ur wrk ethic, especially when working 4 othr black people. its a new day lethargy has no place n obamas nation  

#blackpeople complain that other #blackpeople do bad business. did u tell them about, & give those people a chance 2 correct their mistakes

black people everybody makes mistakes. if u do not or are not allowed 2 learn from ur mistakes is where the problem comes in.

black people n other communities, person is assigned a job & is the go 2 person 4 that job even if a fuck up, they’rereprimanded & keep job

black people after so many fuck ups, the person learns from mistakes & becomes a better professional till they no longer make mistakes black people this is how the lawyer becomes great, the doctor becomes great. they r supported by their community until they r great#support

There is a dark cloud over Black American people when it comes to doing business for one another; we tend to take one or the other for granted as customer, employer or employee. We tend to approach the business matter as if we are friends with the other Black American and they understand our personal problems which hinder us from doing the job in a timely manner or properly and vice versa. THIS IS AN IMPROPER APPROACH, especially as it relates to the new millennium. Though I do not perform my work with clients in that manner, I do feel it is a road block to me obtaining the type of clients I want, i.e. The Therapy Wine Bar and Voudou Bar, as well as Bed-Vyne wine; all within Bedford-Stuyvesant Brooklyn. I’ve spoken with the partners of each of these establishments and they each kindly blew me off as if I was not a real CPA, or that I must have been joking when inquiring to them about that type of business and they quickly argued me down when trying to push them on the matter; or placated me in face to face conversation, but never returned e-mails or calls.

Friends of mine who purchased a nice 3 bedroom home in Greensboro, NC told me a story of trying to give a Black American woman real estate agent a chance to show them homes in the area, which they described to her where they wanted to live, the type of home, school system for their child etc. They told a story that she showed them nothing of what they informed her to; and the last straw that broke the camel’s back, she showed up late to an appointment with rollers in her head. They quickly took their business to a White American male real estate agent who quickly showed them exactly what they wanted, where they wanted and they closed the deal in 30 days. I’ve heard other stories of details not being taken care of in other matters. THIS MUST STOP! BUSINESS IS BUSINESS, and in business, the person you’re doing business with IS NOT YOUR FRIEND! They are your customer, to be treated with the utmost respect and professional care to seal all of the details of the job to complete it with the best of your absolute ability.

But on the part of Black American consumers of Black American services and products, in an effort to heal and progress in the process, I asked my friends from Greensboro, North Carolina these questions: did you tell the lady her first mistake, after the first showing, of not showing property in the preferred area? Did you tell her after the second disappointing showing? When she showed up late with the rollers in her hair, did you properly reprimand her for her behavior, fire her and tell her why she was being fired? To each of the questions they replied NO! They, with their properly justifiable frustrations took their business to the most-mighty of all business dealings, A WHITE AMERICAN MAN!

It is understandable that Black American people would naturally think if a person is in legitimate business as a professional, they should know how to conduct themselves as such. Many minority Black American business owners do conduct themselves with the utmost ethical and professional standard in all dealings, but many others also tend to relax their professional presentation when dealing with other Black American people. It is a natural sense of commonality that is ingrained within the Black American diaspora and struggle within the United States of America that brings this about; seemingly saying, you should understand, overlook and/or excuse my behavior as between family not to be disclosed to outsiders. Maybe in the 1960s, – 1990s, but in the new millennium, this attitude is not excusable and though still very prevalent, it is also the duty of those insulted by inferior service from their Black American brothers and sisters to make known the indiscretion, give a warning and chance for correction and upon final termination of service, outline the reason for termination.          

In every learned subject, there is a process: talking, learning another language, potty training, criminal court. The process is there to help those going through it to learn from it, its inter-workings: pull your pants down, sit on or stand in front of the toilet, release; if you release on or in your clothes, you’ve done it wrong, receive your reprimand and try to do better the next time. Without the process of reprimand and explanation of the wrong course of action taken, there is no learning. And though many Black American people may say, “that is not my job to teach other Black American people, I can just go to someone better”, more likely than not, a White American person; this, in the long-term does not help our race of people become better people, better business persons to build better companies for our future children to gain skills and employment.

If we do not start thinking macro instead of micro, the same complaints that were had 20 years ago (1984), the same complaints we have today will be the same complaints we have 20 years from now (2034): high unemployment among Black American people especially males; takes twice or three times as long for a Black American man to get a job than any other person; Black American people do not do great professional detailed work. Our children especially the males aren’t going for college education in greater numbers; probably because you did not have patience to work with and/or hire a Black American real estate agent, Black American lawyer, Black American CPA/Accountant and if you felt they needed it, in reference to improper service that was given you, reprimand them and tell them to correct their mistakes.

Jrnl Entry No. 9.15.2003

So I’ve been living with Watrina for about two weeks now. My observation is that; while we like/love each other, we don’t need each other; we don’t appreciate each other. She wants a helpless, needy nigga like her father; whereas, if she’s not home to cook, her mother is not home to cook, her aunt is not home to cook, HE WON’T EAT! Me, I make dinner for myself if she’s not here and for her and Queen to eat when they get home. She wants a man like her father who won’t or can’t: wash dishes, wash his laundry, iron his clothes, make a bed just as she would. I guess she wants a lazy video game playin nigga who may work a job, but his job and helping with the bills is all she wants him to do, and I’d put a “maybe” on the help with the bills part.

She’s probably only letting me stay here right now because I don’t have a job. And if that is the type of nigga she want, I definitely am not him. Maybe that is why she keeps Slauson, her friend’s brother, in the wing. Maybe he’s that type of helpless nigga who’d love to be served hand and foot. I mean I appreciate that she works, cooks and cleans; a few of the reasons I’ve deemed her high quality material. I’d like someone to appreciate that I can do the same on the help out.

I guess she wants to raise her daughter in that good ole Jamaican tradition that your man, husband, or whomever is not supposed to lift a finger unless it’s to fix things with a wrench or screw driver. Well, she got the wrong nigga for that lesson to be practiced on.

Besides that issue, she pays more attention to the dishes and wooden floors around here than she does me. By time she gets finished with putting her daughter to bed and wiping the dishes and wooden floors, she’s too tired to give me any attention. I’m tired of begging for sex and always the one to make the first move. At – years old, that shit is for the birds. Like tonight, after I’d made dinner, Queen was in her room, and Watrina was washing dishes. I was watching t.v. and figured I’d go and pay her a little attention. I go to make small talk and she really doesn’t have too much to say. So I just stood there watching her.

She figured I was going to say something about the preposterous way in which she washed dishes. But one thing you learn when dealing with someone else is that they are gonna do things different. She soaps up the dish towel and washes every dish separately, wetting the dish towel after washing each dish to stir up the soapy reaction; meanwhile, also diluting the soap on the towel and therefore having to add more dish washing liquid to the towel. This method of washing dishes often leaves the odor on the dishes as I discovered from her using it on my dishes at my apartment. And also since the dish being washed is not submerged under soapy warm water, in addition to the odor, food and grease spots get missed a little.

Another example of doing things different is on a sunny Saturday morning while enough sunlight shines through the windows for clear vision, she turns on the artificial white electric (which we have to pay for) light to cook, eat and clean. All you can do is try to impress upon and explain your way to the other person, if they don’t understand it or won’t understand it and insist on their way, so it will go, and no big deal.

I didn’t say nothing about her and the dishes. I just hugged her from the back, rubbed her breast and kissed her neck thinking about making love to her later. She says, “get off me”, which kind of spoiled my love making thoughts for the night but not entirely. I went and sat down and began watching a DVD I had gotten from the Queens “Ravenwood” library because it had Makhi Phifer and Lieutenant Dan’s (from the Forrest Gump movie) face on the cover. Watrina then came and asked me a question about placing garbage out back since we don’t have a trash can out front. She asked me, “so, is the garbage out back getting wet since it rained?” I was a little irritated from her telling me to get off of her in the kitchen, and also by the question because you already know the garbage is outside; you already know that it is raining, so yes, you know the garbage is getting wet. You are just asking that question to fuck with me.

So she puts on her clothes and takes the garbage down the street somewhere. When she came home from work at 9 P.M. she didn’t use the key to get in the house, instead she rang the doorbell. This time she also went outside without her key and rang the doorbell. I let her ring it a few minutes before I opened the door. What the fuck am I, her personal doorman? We both have a key, use it. Don’t kick me out of my comfort zone because you don’t feel like reaching in your bag for your keys or you have trouble opening the locks. After that incident, she went into her room, closed the doors, and I knew I could forget about sex.

My guess is that we are not adjusting well to this, move in together, thing. I think it’s all just a matter of getting to know and dealing with each other’s ways. Do you think the other person is worth it to deal with their way of living. I think she’s worth it. But you gotta wonder if me, with no job, no money in the bank, bad credit, and a pipe dream of becoming a Hip Hop Producer; at her age of –, am I worth it to her? At – I had Elizabeth, probably considered one of the tightest girls in town. She was – living with her mom, a good job, no money in the bank, and no potential to move to New York as far as I saw, so I had to get rid of her.

Watrina is talking about quitting her job, maybe moving to Paris in a few years. There probably is no maybe, she’s probably as serious with her plans as I was about moving from a little small town in Ohio to small (but packed with millions of people) New York City. Maybe she’s just passing time with me like I was passing time with women in Warren. I would mention them coming to New York, knowing full well they wouldn’t leave their employment, family and comfort zones. Just like Watrina mentions Paris and me coming, knowing that more than likely I will not. It’s Karma! Well, as long as I know it’s Karma coming behind to bite me in the ass, I guess the pain won’t be as great as if I was ignorant to the situation. Know in your mind about the worst so the worst won’t kill you if it comes to pass. LIVE BY THIS!

PRINCE v. MICHAEL JACKSON 5.24.2016

Michael Jackson “Motown 25”

I think I’ve told on FB that upon hearing of the death of MJ I was in living comatose; a calm shock like I had stepped out of my body – my spirit was in the lounge/TV room at work – while I was actually moving around trying to figure out how to process that information. I finally decided, “GO TO HARLEM TO THE APOLLO“; there I found peace where I was able to cry alone, yet with others rubbing my back while we all sang on 125th St under the Apollo awning. There were reporters, bloggers, t-shirt sellers (I bought one of the REAL MICHAEL JACKSON as a 7 – 10 Yr old kid), people with his album collections, etc. I spent about 4 to 5 hours out there just taking in the scene in bereavement. 

On the ride back to Brooklyn on the A-Train, I was dead silent, still in shock I guess. When I got back to Brooklyn, I was hungry (hadn’t eaten dinner) and I hopped in my car to go to The Farmer and the Deli in Fort Greene, Brooklyn for what I consider one of the best turkey sandwhiches in NYC for under $6.00 (that was then. have not been there in 3 years). As I was riding there, of course MJ was on every radio station. As the songs came on: “I’ll Be There” “Never Can Say Goodbye” “Bille Jean” “Man in the Mirror” I BEGAN SOBBING LIKE A NEW BORN BABY! 

Here’s what I was thinking: “that voice is inimitable, honed from a child to a man with magnificent success; thinking of the height of his success how people, literally EVERYONE, man, woman, child, black, white chinese, was wild, out of body crazy, possessed, by MJ; I myself at the time of its release, sat with the Thriller album with the lyrics sheet, learned and sang every song all weekend long for at least a month straight; the Thriller video (never got those moves down) was such a ground breaking premier and phenomenon; the way MJ sang from his audition in front of Berry Gordy til his last album alive with such passion, i.e. “Heaven Can Wait” on the Invincible album 2001. THAT IS UNMATCHED UNDENIALE SOUL ON A RECORD; NOW, IT’S GONE!!!” And I wept until I couldn’t weep anymore at that loss. 

“Where is all of this coming from, it’s not the death anniversary of MJ, it’s not his birthdate??? Well, top of the morning 1AM May 24, 2016 Motown 25 was on PBS. I happen to catch it when Richard Pryor was introducing Michael Jackson and The Jackson Five. I started to think, “I made it to work the day after MJs death announcement, but if I had come home from the weeping ride to get the turkey sandwhich and found Motown 25 playing on my television, that would have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.” 

In the Motown 25 show, how beautiful brown he was (wish he could have just left his face at that); the way he danced and popped and spun and moon walked; the showmanship in his performance. To this day, I don’t think there is a SINGLE GREATER PERFORMANCE by a soloist than that of Michael Jackson performing Billie Jean on Motown 25. 

To try and bring this essay to denouement, which will become protracted still; my friend Burton and I would have a Prince / Michael Jackson debate; he Prince, me Michael Jackson. I was never able to quite articulate it but I think some 15 to 20 years later I have the panaceas to that argument maybe for all that get ensnared in it (I guess I can’t say that, my opinion is mine alone). 

Why I say MJ was better, because at the time in my provincial thinking of funky beats, soul singing, rhythm & blues proclivity, MJ wins that; even Beat It, Dirty Diana, etc which are to be rock songs, still had a funk / soul / rhythm to them and as I said before, the soul with which MJ laid his lyrics on wax, especially his runs and ad-libs, Prince did nothing of the sort. Add to that, the dancing which MJ always kept funky for you; it appealed to my senses as a Black American brought up on Funk Soul R&B. 

Prince, his artistic expression was eccentric and eclectic. He, as we know, can get funky but it was never expressed on the 2 & 4 beat in the dance moves like MJ, i.e. Billie Jean Motown 25 performance. For example, take the song and video for the song “KISS“, very funky song, but Prince was in the video doing a mix of regular and eclectic type dancing with a female dancer. His varying Rock Songs, with the exception of “Let’s Go Crazy“, at the time, they never appealed to me, and it seemed as if they broke up his albums and made them sort of in-cohesive. Prince has many great hits we all know and love but, back then, to me, his music was all over the creative map whereas MJ sort of stayed in the pocket (a unique pocket nontheless). 

One thing Prince did greatly were his amorous love songs: Do Me Baby, Adore, Insatiable, (is Darling Nikki considered a love song???), Call My Name / On The Couch (both on the Musicolgy album respectively); Just as MJ’s heart and soul – runs and ad-libs – delivery are unparalleled, what Prince did on those particular tracks is HANDS DOWN THE BEST, NO ONE COULD DO IT BETTER, EVER! The tracks “Rasberry Baret” (RB) and “Pop Life” (PL) on the Around The World In A Day album always bring a certain warmth and ease to my heart, from the very first time I heard them back in the 80s, (PL): “what you puttin’ in yo nose / is that where all your money goes….. is the mail man jerkin’ you round / did he put yo million dolla check in someone elses box tell may.” (RB) “built like she was ahh, she has nerve to ask me / if I plan to do her any harm / so look here / I put her on the back my bike and ahh, we went ridin’ / DOWN BY OLE MAN JOHNSON’S FARM“. In those two songs, once again you can see my proclivity toward the funk soul R&B. 

ONE THING PRINCE HAS OVER MICHAEL JACKSON, ARTISTIC CREATION; this damn guy was a despotic, autocratic, megalomaniac, auteur, MUSICAL GENIUS. In these early debates of Prince/Michael Jackson, I could not give Prince’s musical genius proper credit because my ears truthfully only heard and appreciated a third of what he produced; the “Dirty Mind” album hadn’t graced my ears nor sunken in as the masterful masterpiece it was/is. Prince either directly played or personally directed and approved every note on every album/song he ever worked on. Material both released and still in the vaults unreleased IS COLOSSAL! And when we take into consideration Prince’s personal androgynous style which made his star shine even brighter, MAN LISTEN! 

Musically, artistically creatively PRINCE WINS! But on Michael Jackson’s side – though (I think he could play a few chords) he never played a damn thing but maybe his finger snaps (which you must admit on “Rock With You” WERE BRILLIANT) and a tambourine –  he was an auteur in his own right; let’s not forget this was the guy who turned down perfectly great tracks by the hottest producers in HIP HOP/R&B at the time, “The Neptunes (Pharrel and Chad)” which would have undoubtedly made a better album than Dark Child Rodney Jerkins and other producers made out of “Invincible”, as proved by the fact that Usher’s “8701” album and hit singles in 2001 -those were the Neptunes tracks produced for Michael Jackson – sold more than Michael Jackson’s “Invincible” released the same year. 

Though he didn’t play much, – hey I just figured it out (MJ EPIPHANY) – Michael’s ear for melody and hot tracks and how to make a track hot with his voice and ad-libs “Hee, Hee” was his main – used to perfection – instrument, and those indelible stamps were on every record – MILLIONS – he sold, which on a lateral level makes Michael Jackson as great an artist as PRINCE. 

I forgot to mention the Prince Falsetto and the ease with which he went/goes back and forth from Falsetto to Barritone was/is classic and untouched (well, maybe not untouched as D’Angelo kind of licked it a few times on the Voodoo album to great effect), but still Prince is the master of the Falsetto Baritone switch up. 

I guess what I’m saying here is, if one says, “PRINCE IS BETTER” I understand and respect the polemic with which they come. If one says, “MICHAEL IS BETTER”, “I’m like a dog / I never speak / but I understand” (Jay Z “Never Change” Blueprint album, 2001). 

@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. VII

institutionalized racism restricts #blackmen from getting jobs, but its also true #blackpeople r sometimes loath & lethargic on the job.

#blackpeople n corporate america notice the white women & asians working late n2 the night, u go home at 5:30PM then complain about a raise

#blackpeople corporate america will never tell us this but they think we r lazy, inarticulate & ineffective which is sometimes true.

This tweet explanation came to mind thinking about my last 5 year stint working a job in which I was motivated to stay and work late, take on more responsibility at the job in an effort to get promoted. When my girlfriend would call me at 7 PM and I told her I was still at work, she’d quickly rebuff, “why are you still at work?” And when I’d have conversations with the few Black American people on the job about how late I stayed a particular night or was going to stay, as we chatted while I was going to get something to eat as they were on their way home at 5:00PM/5:30PM, they’d all spit out a well-known dictum within the Black American community, “they ain’t workin’ me like a slave.”

I began to think of my CFO and how he’d be on the job 9PM/10PM at night walking around jovially speaking with his executive peers, also working late. I thought of the articles I’d read where Congressman were called to meetings 11:30PM – 3AM in the morning to get some bill pushed through to the Senate. I thought of stories I read about CEOs working 16 hour days 80 to 100 hours a week or CPAs working for the Big 4 accounting firms who reported working the same amount of hours during busy tax and quarterly income statement preparation and audit season for clients. I thought of the question, “how is it possible to work that many hours in a 5 day week? I summed it up that they work on weekends and/or from home to come up with these ridiculous hour counts. I thought of how much these individuals got paid; some $1Mill a year, other $250K-$500K a year. CPAs often work 2 to 4 years at a CPA firm making $40K – $65K, then go to a corporate company as a senior accountant or accounting manager and are put on a track to make $90K – $150K; $40K to $150 respectively in 5 to 6 years.

When I walked around the office during my latest time of working at 9PM, I’d rarely see any Black Americans working at that hour. But I would see many of the Black Americans gathered at the elevator between 5;00PM/5:30PM. I spoke with one young woman and asked does she ever work late. She quickly replied no and that, “it’s not about working longer or harder but about working smarter.” I asked her where she wanted to be in 5 years, she said to have her MBA and be within a management position in her current field. I then asked her, “don’t you think that is going to require you to work longer hours?” She said, “yes, I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.” I also asked, “do you hope to get a nice raise at the end of this year of working for our current company?” She quickly blurted out an emphatic yes. While some of the younger Caucasian individuals went home at the sound of the clock striking 5PM as well, there were also quite a few who were around at 7PM – 9PM.

Apres 2007/2008 when thinking about hard work, I often think of Barack Obama and that he, a Black American man (though he’s half White American) was not supposed to win the Democratic Presidential nomination in 2008, especially over a White American woman candidate, Hillary Clinton whose husband Bill Clinton was already a proven great Democratic American President. But yet, not only did Obama win the nomination, he won the presidency by a landslide over John McCain in November 2008. I think it took tremendous emotional fortitude to stay the course and move forward to become The United States of America’s first, so-called, Black American president; he is, after all, half White American.

Once I saw this feat being accomplished by Barack Obama of being the democratic representative to run for office, is when I decided to study to take my CPA Exam, an exam which only 40% of candidates who sign up to take it, pass; the numbers are even more abysmal among the Black American candidates who sign up and take the exam. Every road block I came to in studying for the CPA Exam I thought of Barack Obama and the adversity he overcame to become the presidential nominee and eventually president; he and Michael Phelps. The tireless work ethic it took to accomplish what those two individuals accomplished that year of 2008 was a mammoth and colossal aberration from the status quo. Passing the CPA Exam was the hardest I’d ever worked in my entire life.

As I studied, passing and failing parts of the CPA Exam, and reflected upon my life and future career which I saw as being on its death bed if I didn’t pass the exam, I took a look back at my career and the careers of many White American or other Americans in Corporate America. The arduous preparation for that exam made me realize that either Black Americas are less intelligent and/or put in less work ethic than other ethnicities; a primary reason for the low passing rates among us, of not just the CPA Exam, but and seemingly (as reported in the media) any entrance type/prerequisite exam. Most CEOs of companies and those in management positions in Corporate America have their Masters In Business Administration, CPA, JD etc; Some do not have this educational training, but many do. Many Black Americans have not put in the hours of hard studying and work ethic to obtain the educational and on the job training, i.e. Malcolm Gladwell’s “Outliers” 10,000 hours, but complain about non-promotions and advancement.

I started to delve into the aspects of my career. The most of a raise I’d ever received on my professional jobs was 3%. I began to ponder why that was. I knew exactly why. It was because at the onset of my first job out of college, I wanted to be a Hip Hop producer of musical songs to rap lyrics. I left my jobs everyday a 5PM, rarely staying past 6:30PM to complete or get extra work done or asking for more responsibility on the jobs and was often times goofing off e-mailing my cousin or girlfriend all day or writing journals in Microsoft Word on my work computer. Add to that the fact I am a Black American male and there you get the lowest raise a job would offer an individual as a simple cost of living inflation raise. On my first job, I was angry about it and quickly made steps to leave. My second job, my manager gave me warning that he knew I was jerking off and that I was not carrying as much work as the rest of the team and that I should step it up and contribute more. But I really didn’t care, I was living in New York, closer to my dream of becoming a Hip Hop producer than one could get. I was leaving the job every night by 5:30PM going to my apartment to produce a beat on my ASR10 Keyboard beat machine sequencer.

I got fired from my first job in New York due to my lack of enthusiasm. I found another job 6 months later, which after my first 6 months there, I was working under a new Accounting Manager who quickly noticed my weaknesses in lacking attention to detail and was on me like white on rice. She reprimanded me for minor mistakes and tardiness. I’d get to work at 9:20AM – 9:30AM every morning as opposed to 9AM because no one ever said anything. When she did say something, from that point on I was there every morning at 8:30AM – 8:45AM and making sure during the day I covered every inch of detail of my work to doting my “I”s and crossing my “T”s. But she eventually ended up firing me anyway, on a day no less, when she checked my work, there were no mistakes and I turned it in two days early and asked her for more work to do or if she needed help on any special assignments.

After that termination, I could not find another solid job for 3 years, literally 2003 – 2006 I was unemployed. Employers would not touch me. One thing I noticed is that I was not articulating my experience well to seem very knowledgeable about accounting. I also noticed that I had a lazy drawl to my speech pattern and delivery which my current live-in girlfriend would point out to me as well. At age –, I immediately began to work on my accounting, speech and vocabulary skills; finally 3 years later I guess I perfected it and someone agreed to hire me.

To address another matter regarding why Black Americans leave at 5:30PM; after a 3 year break from work, on this new job which I was glad to receive; ready and willing to work prodigious overtime hours, I noticed that I quickly learned my job to every last detail by the first year. My supervisor did not offer me any raise, which I didn’t want or feel I needed because I was getting paid $20K more than 3 years ago. Shortly after the first year, I told the CFO that he was underutilizing my skills and I could take on more responsibility. During the same period, the company shifted part of the accounting responsibilities to a shared services group and this severely cut into my work; with not much more responsibility, I began to hang around work less frequently and leave at 5:30PM with the rest of the Black Americans and other co-workers who felt that to be an appropriate hour of egress.

When the second year on the job rolled around; I noticed a 3% increase in my paycheck. I was livid, especially after making a great contribution to the team the first year and being told so through various e-mails by the manager who hired me. I quickly requested a meeting with the CFO and Director of Accounting. In that meeting I laid out my contribution, how I had saved the company money by filing the excise tax returns in a timely manner, which they had not filed timely a few times prior, to the tune of late penalties of $15,000. I presented all the things you read in magazine articles and blogs they tell you to do and enumerate to your superior at raise negotiation time. The meeting boiled down to the CFO telling me no, I would not receive more than 3% due to certain mistakes which he could not properly detail and recapitulate to me; I’d receive another 3% in Sept, which this was now June. I tried to propose a compromise to give me the extra 3% now as a retro-pay; mind you this only added up to $1,800, which was currently less than they were paying employees for job candidate referral bonuses. Also, unbeknownst to him, I was in his office listening while he was on the phone with a department manager giving little resistance and ultimately approving of more than a 20% raise to an employee. I made up my mind at that moment I was leaving the company and started going home every day at 5:00PM. The problem with leaving the company, it was 2008 and during the time of the housing crisis economic fall-out – Mr Hank Paulson “Mr. Bailout” – and there was not a job to be found.

I tell that story because often times it is the case, even if Black Americans do play an integral part on the team and make major contributions they still get looked over for raises and/or promotions they can economically feel. To add to the story, I was seeing White American young women and men getting promoted to supervisor of their position every three to six months which I know a raise came along with as well; some of whom I did not see working late nightly hours. So a Black American sees this and can quickly become prostrated. But, it is also often the case that Black Americans are the ones who leave at 5:30PM every day, are talking loudly to friends on the company phone or their private cell phones during work hours, they get into work late and leave a little early. After putting in 1 to 2 years on the jobs they are walking around talking about how much smarter they are and should have gotten promoted or given the opportunity. While that behavior could fly for many White American men and women, Black Americans you must stop the aphorism of lethargy and stick to the saying, “we must work twice as hard to get to the same place

Jrnl Entry No. 3.31.2003

Over the weekend, I was supposed to spend it with my girlfriend but what has been happening in the last month or so is that our weekend plans have been getting botched up into arguments and us not spending the time together. See about a month before that I went on an escapade. I wasn’t feeling Watrina at the time because it always seems as if I’m the one giving her all of the attention. I love her very much and would spend most if not all my time with her if I could. I’m always trying to be around her following her like a puppy dog, and she doesn’t mind so I guess you could say that is a good thing. She could tell me to buzz off so she could do her own thing with her friends, male or female, sexual, non-sexual, whatever. But she never complains about me being there. But on the other hand she never invites me there neither. I invite myself: go to her job and meet her and then maybe we’ll go out to eat; to spend the Saturday with her and her daughter if she is not gone with her father; to spend time or the night at my house, I always ask her for these things. She never does it on her own which makes me feel like she is not that concerned at all with spending quality time with me; she can take it or leave it, it doesn’t matter. So I said, “Fuck Watrina”! I’m not asking her shit: to spend time with her, to see her, to call her.

I was kicking it with my new buddy Metaphor “Simile” “MS” Kipperton, this rapper I met on the New York Music scene who I gave some beats to and because this girl from Youngstown Ohio where I went to college at, managed him before, paid for some of his studio time; through her, he connected with me. He is well known on the scene so he gets in all of the spots for free and most of the time, would get me in for free also, so it was all cool.   We were goin’ out on Saturday night to ”CREAM”, Sunday nights to “CLUB NV” or “TIKI ROOM”, Monday nights to “LOTUS”, Tuesday nights to SESSA”. I was actually having fun, living, which ever since I got here to New York, I haven’t been living because I’ve been too broke, paying bills, or not knowing where to go in the first place.

At this point, I had stopped paying my car note, I didn’t pay half my rent for one month because my electricity was out and my landlord didn’t seem as if he was making a strong effort to get the lights back on through electrical work that he had to have done. I also stopped paying my credit card bill which was draining me of $200 a month. So I had a little money to spend. I bought me a Mitchell and Ness throw-back basketball jersey for $325.00 to have the look of the male music industry scene in at least one outfit.

I wasn’t paying Watrina too much attention. And she didn’t seem to be making a big fuss out of it until like three weeks in, after I didn’t go to her nieces birthday party that she thought I planned on attending to meet most of her whole family and plus she had a magic show by a guy that I hooked up with and my other friend Zero was there. I didn’t go. After that weekend, she started really trying to see me but I was still like no, because every time we see each other, I have to wait around for her to do something else. I wasn’t waiting anymore. If she wanted to see me, no waiting till 10 P.M. or 12 A.M. is what I was on.

After that tirade, we got back on schedule a little, except for that the two weekends after that, we planned on spending Saturday night together, but we never did. One night she claimed she went to the Bronx to party with her friends in a hole in a wall bar and didn’t have cab fare back to Queens. The next weekend, which was actually the Friday and Saturday before this day that I’m writing this; Friday she claimed she wanted to see her daughter before she would send her off the next day to her father for a day and half. So at 10 P.M. she went home and told me to call her in an hour. I went home and shaped my hair up because I had this party in mind we could go to of another music industry friend who was promoting the party and the tickets were $20.00. I called her at 11 P.M. and she was not ready, saying that her daughter wasn’t home when she got there so she didn’t want to leave yet. And she knows that at these parties and clubs in New York, that if you don’t get on line by 12 A.M., chances are you won’t get in till 2 A.M. or later and the parties are over at 4 A.M.

So this was another case where she would have me waiting around on her when she told me she would be ready. I told her to forget it I was going by myself because I knew she was not ready. She said she thought the night was about me and her not the party? Well it was until she mentioned that we could go out, and I got all excited about going out with her looking sexy and being there for this dude because he knows a few people in the music industry and he likes some of my beats and he may manage me as a producer. I never told her that is why I really wanted to go to the party. What I was gonna do was go and get the tickets and come back and pick her up but after I bitched at her about not being ready when she told me she would, which seems like a ritual with her, she said she was out of the mood. So I went alone.

I got there at 12:30 A.M. The guy didn’t arrive with the ticket until 1:30 A.M. and then he was trying to get rid of 8 tickets outside so we didn’t go into the party until 2:30 A.M., and it was cold out there and I didn’t have on a jacket so I was kind of glad she didn’t come. The party was crowded, especially in V.I.P. where we were standing. I really wasn’t feeling it. I just went to see who in the music industry I could meet, which I met no one. It’s kind of hard to meet people in the V.I.P. section flossing with bottles of champagne; at least that is what I think, so I didn’t talk to anyone.  

The most I said to someone was to this lady goin’ in and out of the bathroom with this guy. I said to her, “you better stay outta the bathroom with that gentleman.” She laughed at me and told me, “nothing happened in there; I know him.” As if I cared if she knew him or not, like I was gonna spread rumors around the neighborhood the next day.

I stayed till the party ended. I didn’t try to talk to any women because I wasn’t there for that. Talking to women is a job, and when I got my baby Watrina at home who seems, at times, to really care about me, and other times not, I don’t need to work to talk to other bitches, especially if they ain’t that cute and classy to begin with; which there wasn’t one woman who really caught my eye for me to say anything to.

I got home at 5 A.M. I wakes up at 8 A.M. to wash my clothes and my car, and take a shower to take Watrina’s daughter Queen to dance class at Alvin Alley. I was gonna wait for dance class to be over, and Queen’s father was getting her from there, and I was gonna spend the whole day and night with Watrina. When I went to pick her up, she claims she was ready but she took 10 minutes to get down stairs, which also seems like a ritual when it comes to me and she knows I hate that. I called her 8:30 A.M. and she said she would be ready at 9:45 A.M. But when the time came I was still washing my clothes and my car so I told her I’d be there at 10 A.M. I left my house at like 10:07 A.M. get to her house at 10:11 A.M. and she didn’t get downstairs till like 10:20 A.M. I thought she left and got a cab, which would have made me more heated because at times, she isn’t ready for her daughter’s 10:30 A.M. dance class and we don’t leave until 10:40 A.M., but she couldn’t wait on me? But she did wait on me and when she finally came to the door, I says in a comical way, “I was just getting ready to be like forget you, and leave.” She didn’t smile or nothing, just looked at me like I was stupid and got in the car. She continued to have this stupid look on her face as if she had an attitude with me but wasn’t gonna discuss it with me. So I say to her, “I don’t like your attitude.” I didn’t drive off either, so she says, “what, you want me to get out and take a cab?” I didn’t say nothing but again, “I don’t like your attitude.” She got out the car and took her daughter to take a cab, and I left.

I was ready for a joyous day with her and she gets into my car with a gas face. I just drove off and went home and went to sleep. Around 1 P.M. I woke up and got dressed, went and got my coat out the cleaners, and put my suit, which Watrina made for me, into the cleaners. I drove back home and was gonna go upstairs but I just sat in the car because I really didn’t want to do that. After 5 minutes or so of sitting there thinking where I could go, it hit me to go to Barnes and Nobles on 66th street in Manhattan and read Russel Simmon’s book “LIFE and DEF”. So I drove to the train station, put on my jacket and took the train there. I got the book and sat down and started reading it. I sat there for like two hours steady reading. It was an interesting read because I am a Hip Hop Head who loves Russel Simmons.

After about two hours, I purchased the book and went over to Tower Records to buy Norah Jones’ “Come Away With Me” and 50 Cent’s “Get Rich or Die tryin’” albums. I already heard the 50 album because it was Hip Hop. But Norah Jones won like 10 Grammys for this album and she and 50 had been battling for the number one Billboard top 200 chart spot ever since the Grammys were televised. I knew of Norah Jones’ hit single and I liked it, hoped the whole album would sound like that. I saw the price was $12.77 and 50 was $13.99 so I bought both of them. I really didn’t want to buy 50 since I already had a good bootleg CD copy at home. But I figured, if I’m gonna buy Norah and support her and I don’t even know what this album is, what type of music it is or nothing; I better get 50, the hottest Hip Hop album out of a New York MC since Biggie Smalls “Ready To Die.”

After I left the record store, I went to Houston’s maybe hoping to see Watrina there since she said she wanted to go there; maybe catch her with a date or something because the last like 5 weekends had not been spent with me, and the night before she was acting very suspicious about her phone and me using it and maybe checking her voicemail messages. I got to Houston’s and didn’t see Watrina. I ordered dinner, during with the appetizer I started reading Russel’s book some more, and then after dinner, waiting on them to take my plate and bring my check, I read some more. I left the restaurant and went home and put the Norah Jones album in and started to read some more.

It was like 10 P.M. The Norah Jones album was light blues, and the whole album was like that single, “Don’t Know Why.” The music was light and her light voice over the light melodies and drums was a very relaxing listen. I didn’t hear the words, just the music and her voice. I’ve listened to the album like 8 times and I still don’t know half of what she is saying on none of the songs. But I could see why America is going crazy over that album. First, it’s the music and her voice. Second, if you listen closely to the lyrics, it’s blues-like and I heard a few of the lyrics and I understand why people are crazy for it. I know music of all genres, trust me, and she deserves every one of those Grammys she got.

So at this point around 10:45 P.M., I called Watrina for the third time of the day to smooth things over to see if she would come to my house for the night. She didn’t answer her cell phone. I figured because she was mad at me and also she was going out by herself, with girlfriends or a male. She didn’t call me back neither.

After realizing that I’d read over half of Russel’s book, I put it down, shut my ringer off my phone and went to bed because I was tired from only getting like 4 hours of sleep that whole night and day before. The Russel book told the story I already knew about starting Def Jam, RUN DMC, PHAT FARM, DEF COMEDY JAM, ending the distribution deal with Sony, signing with Polygram, Lyor Cohen, Russel’s model dating. What I didn’t know was that he took drugs like he did. He gave a few business pointers, life pointers, race pointers, etc.

I got up the next day and put the Norah Jones album on again and cleaned up my apartment. I still had my phone ringer off because I was mad that Watrina hadn’t spent the night with me. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. Eventually around 1 P.M. I turned my ringer on and went about my daily business. I went back to sleep, I got up and got dressed, did some push-ups and sit-ups. I started to cook some steak and potatoes and green beans for myself. I also started to read the Russel book some more.

Now this whole day I was contemplating just breaking up with Watrina because it’s been three years and we have been going through this shit the whole time. It’s really getting tired and old, and I just want to stop the relationship because it seems like all we do, every other weekend is be mad about something. Finally after finishing the book, finishing eating, I decided to call Watrina to talk to her and smooth over this rough edge of a weekend we had. All day I had been thinking about not calling her at all but I broke down.

See what I mean, I’m always the one, making all the effort to call, to spend time together, etc. I called her and asked her, “what are you thinking about me right now?” She had nothing to say. I was looking for her to say, that either she loved and missed me or she wants to break up. She said nothing. So we started going into the weekend issue and she had a little sass and chutzpah in her voice and speech. Let me tell you, “if a bitch is being hard with you and edgy, and unsympathetic, it says that she is tired of the situation or that she is tired of the situation and on top of that, she is fucking someone else.”  

Watrina hasn’t spent really good quality time with me in a month and the last two weekends, she has disappeared on me. At the end of the conversation, because she didn’t say that she wanted to break up, I said, “forget it, drop it. I want to see you.” She said she had to braid her daughter’s hair and she would call me back and didn’t know if she would see me or not. An hour and a half later, after she was in the bed half sleep, she called me. She tells me that she is not coming over because she should have been over last night; like that was all my fault. I called her three times during the day and she never answered her phone and didn’t call me later that night. So I bid her a good night and hung up the phone on her ear slightly. I tried to call her back 10 minutes later to tell her I was trying to smooth things over and she was playing games of you-did, who-did. I called her like 7 times and she didn’t pick up the phone, playing games, but of course she is gonna tell me that she was sound asleep in 10 minutes after getting off the phone with me knowing that I was angry at her for not wanting to come over. So I left her a message that, “this relationship is over! What is wrong with trying to smooth things over by spending some time together and forgetting about Friday and Saturday, and you fucked that up on Sunday. Fuck You! I’m going out to find me another bitch to fuck since you don’t want to come over.”

I went to the TIKI ROOM and chilled; met Metphor and Zero there. I was pollyin’ about music, not concerned about bitches. I met this guy who I’d been looking at for a month now who looks like he is in the music industry. Turns out he is down with DJ CLUE and Dessert Storm and works in the Sony building down the block from where I work. I met this female “Combination” whom I’d seen around at Justin’s Restaurant on Tuesday Industry Nights, and other places like two years prior, and Metaphor said she was a rapper. I met this other guy whose face I always recognize. He managed Uncle Sam, a fallen-off R&B Singer, and a few other groups or singers who have all fallen off. I left around 2:45 A.M. drunk off Hennessy and Grand Marnier.

My mind was still made up that I’d broken up with Watrina. I called her when I woke up at 7:30 A.M. to tell her that I’m bringing her leather she bought to make me a leather suit, and her mother’s plate. She tells me to bring it later. I told her I was bringing it now. She asked, “is it that serious?” I said “Yeah, it’s that serious!” She obviously hadn’t gotten my message. When I got to her house I asked had she gotten it. She said yes, not to argue in front of her father. I told her to her face, “this relationship is over, it’s no good.” She nodded her head, handed me the stuff she’d bought for my daughter from the GAP and I left. It was over in my mind. When I got to work, she called at 10 A.M. telling me that she is coming over my house tonight, so I’m just gonna have to let her in because she is gonna be there. I told her, “don’t come and I’m not saying it’s alright because I’m not gonna do like you, always say something and then don’t do it or be late doing it.” She hung up because she was entering the train station. She called me later saying, “we shouldn’t break up. We have a nice family, and we get along together.” All of which is true, even the part about us not breaking up. I love what we have, truly, but it seems that she doesn’t love it as much as I do, or maybe I don’t love as much as I say I do because we keep having these bullshit arguments, I’m tired of them and I want out! She wants to take some time apart but still be together. I don’t believe in that shit because if you need time apart, stay apart, which we can’t seem to make it together, so maybe we should be apart.