Author: Michael Irvin Walker

I LOVE TO WRITE! JOURNAL ENTRY No. 1999 till: These are recollections of my life interspersed with uninhibited thoughts/language/sexual detail akin to an explicit, parental advisory labeled Hip Hop album. As these journals were personal (never to be read until my death or by close family only), I'd read them kin to Holden Caufield, past tense (20 years past) first person singular. @BLK_PEEPSTOP: PDF book I started writing in 2012 and finished in 2014, with a few updates after 2014. I write movie reviews: I am currently, in 2019 writing another book of my thoughts on various matters past and present. This is my journey on 4.5.2019 to become a published writer, or rather to release my writings on to the universe: AWAY WE GO! All material is under copyright: theonlychild1988

Jrnl Entry No. 10.3.2003

So I’ve decided to put my own album out. This industry is a trip. No one is willing to help you out to let you in and that is the bottom line. I would say that getting into this shit is like hitting the lottery for a small jackpot, and once you spend that up you are ass out cause most niggaz just get a little money and then go broke in the game. I got good product, so I think, so I’m gonna get a few MCs that I know and get them to record my songs. I’ve been listening to this shit for 17 years, dreaming about getting into it for 15 years, and actually trying to make my dreams come true for five years.

For the five years that I’ve been trying to make my dreams come true, I have seen none to very little results. I got a call back from Black Rob about a beat tape I gave him like when I first got to New York, right around the same time he was coming down off of his “WHOA”, one hit wonder, high. He called me and left a message. I called him back left a message. I called him back and left another message. I approached him on the street about our calls to each other, and I haven’t heard from him since or called him. I’m not calling nobody else who claims to be in the music industry. I’ma put out my own shit and try to promote steady and hard, THE ONLY CHILD! I’ma see if I can get some niggaz to call me. I feel like I know what it takes to make a good album, or I should know from listening to all the albums I have at home, so I’m gonna give my knowledge a go. If my knowledge doesn’t show me any results, then maybe I’ll quit.

I’ve tried everything: handing out beat tapes to rappers with deals (Talib Kweli, Raekwon, Black Rob, Lord Have Mercy, Rampage, Rah Digga, Graig Mack, DJ Clue, Skane, The Hood Fellaz.) I’ve tried to go out and meet people to talk to them to see who and what they know and if they could connect me to anyone. I’ve tried not handing out my beat CDs unless we have a face to face second meeting. I’ve given my stuff to people who work for Bad Boy (Damon Eden, Hen-Roc). I’ve given my stuff to people who work at Violator (Andre Neal). I’ve tried hanging out with so-called rappers who know a lot of people and who get into any club or big party in New York for free (Metaphor, Combination). I’ve tried making a connection with a guy from the town I went to college in, Youngstown, guy by the name of Rufus who had an album out under Chad Elliot and Al West; album called, “Credentials” He works at Ark Angel studio with a guy by the name of Prince Charles Alexander who is a mixer/engineer in the industry and has mixed for Mary J Blige, Faith Evans, Angie Stone, etc. Rufus writes R&B songs. He wrote”Jumpin Jumpin” for Destiny’s Child. He wrote a song for Angie Stone on her second album. He never put me on to anyone in the business. SoI’m through with all that shit.

I am __ years old and I have been dreaming about getting into the music industry since I was __ years of age and that many years is a long time to be dreaming. I’m gonna try to give it one last hard go and if that doesn’t work, I’m quittin’! I will hang up the towel and just face the fact that I wasn’t meant to be the next Dr. Dre or Pharrell of the Neptunes, or Pete Rock, or DJ Premier, or Timbaland, or just any no name album filler producer. I will let the dream die with the thought that, “I gave it a serious try.” Trying is worth something after all, right? I think it is because if you never try you will never know if you could have made it or not. It seems as if I can’t make it, so hey.

It also seems I can’t make it with relationships also. My two relationships with women who had three kids were great it seemed, as if they could last forever. My relationship with a 24 year old with one kid, a good job, sexy, stylish, etc., it is falling apart also. We recently moved in together and I notice that she doesn’t pay attention to me and that she rarely wants to have sex. She often ignores little words or things I say to her. I can say “BOO!”. Instead of her saying, “was that suppose to scare me?” she’ll say nothing, look at me like I’m stupid and go on about her way. I can’t be in a relationship like that. I’m not too worried about it because I still look good, bitches still give me eyes. But what if I didn’t look good, we __ or older and I still find myself not being able to get along with a bitch? I would have to deal with it, but that really wouldn’t be a good situation to be in. I don’t know where my life is headed right now and where I’ll land because it seems that at the rate this relationship is goin, it’s not gonna have a happy ending. But I guess in the end, all will work out how it was meant to be. Right now I’m meant to be in New York, broke, no job, not many friends, no where to go exciting, not too interested in fucking with all these sexy bitches in this city for fear of catching aids because condoms ain’t my thang.

Maybe it’s meant for me to put this album out and the shit blows up. The way I want to do is promote like a big label album with big posters and flyers. I want to promote in Chicago, LA, Detroit, Cleveland, Philadelphia, Atlanta, Buffulo New York, and possibly Canada. Maybe that is my fate. I can remember when I was little around the house in Warren in the Highland Terrace Projects with my two aunts buying and listening to 45s. I think the music got into me from way back then. I guess looking at my life just in general, you never know what is affecting you and how it is affecting you until years down the road and look back on it.

Like now at age __, I’m starting to think that fucking at the age of 13 and having a girlfriend at 14 – 16 and having lots and lots of sex, having a girlfriend at age 17-18 and having lots and lots of sex, having two girlfriends at age 20 – 24 and having double lots and lots of sex, having a girlfriend from age 24 – 26 and having lots and lots of sex. All that sex at such an early age has left my sex drive at this point kinda low I think. My dick doesn’t get as hard as it used to. I’m not excited about it as I used to be. I see all kind of bitches in New York City that I could try to and probably make it fucking around with them, but I don’t have the desire. For the first time in my life being single or having a girlfriend, I turned down some pussy from an 18 year old at that. I didn’t turn down Carmel when she met me at a gas station on Wednesday and I was over her house on Friday night fucking her. She was white and fat. She wasn’t thick. She was fat. I didn’t turn her down though. And it turned out that on her back she would fuck you to death, wiggle that ass around so much, you’d think she was having a seizure. She wouldn’t let me fuck her any other way but missionary. But that was some good missionary pussy. I turned down an 18 year old who I was two days away from fucking if I had hung in there. Many guys don’t start fucking until age 16, 17 and even then they still don’t have as much sex as I did from age 14 to 16 until either they move out of their parents home, in with a girlfriend, or until they are married. Now, I’m feeling the effect of that. But thank god they have created Viagra, a get your dick hard and stay hard pill. I’m not ready for Viagra yet though. Hopefully, if I keep exercising, and keep my blood circulation up, I won’t ever need it. At age __, I started a little exercise program. I started with just running just one lap around a ¼ mile track and stopping for breath and rest. At age __, I’m up to a whole mile straight and I guess the ¼ mile and whole miles will just keep growing and growing.

I have a job interview on Monday with this company of god knows when I sent them my resume. I came to the library to look them up on the internet but the internet is down. I need a job badly right now. My girlfriend Watrina has been nice so far but she won’t be always, especially with my attitude and her attitude clashing against each others. I don’t know what the problem is. We are two beautiful people who should be able to see that we can have a bright future together and we should be trying to preserve that future in advance, but it seems as if we are not. Maybe she doesn’t think that I am beautiful, or maybe she is trying to tear me down or break me down from thinking so highly of myself. Maybe she knows that I have labeled her as my only girl with all the right credentials so she feels she can do what she wants to do and treat me like she wants whether I like it or now. Well she can’t and she will find that out soon enough as Victoria did.

I think Victoria thought that since I had her baby that I was obligated to stay with her, or that I had a new job and was afraid of child support. She tried ignoring me and not giving me sex and you see where she is at. I just don’t respond to that threat of no sex well, and I probably never will. Watrina says I only pay attention to her when I want sex. And so it has been since we moved in together that half the time I have made an advance for it she has turned me down. She turned me down the morning before she was to go on a trip out of town for her job where this guy she thought was gay, whom she eventually ending up liking and going to dinner with him, was gonna be. She got home from her trip and diddn’t have very much to say to me. She got up this morning and didn’t say anything to me. It’s heading toward where we are just gonna be living together and not talking, just sleeping in the same bed or she will sleep with her daughter until I leave. I will try not to leave but I don’t think my ego will allow me to stay with a bitch who seems to be ignoring me. So I’ll see what happens with my relationship.

I’ll see what happens with this album thing. I’m see what happens with life and my future because right now it doesn’t seem to be bright in no aspect. If I didn’t have my daughter, and things were this bad, I’d probably kill myself. But then again, my daughter is a reason why things are this bad so maybe without her they wouldn’t be so bad. And just in case something should happen to her and this is getting read in court: I don’t want my daughter to go away. I love her very much. Sure, things would probably be better if she went away but I wouldn’t have a part in her going away. I don’t wish her away. I’m just looking at the reality of what I think the situation would be if she wasn’t here. I think people would be lying to themselves if they didn’t think about the best and worse case scenarios of their lives with and without their present situations. Like what if you weren’t married to that fat bitch who was so fine and beautiful in her 20s but as soon as the 30s hit and the second kid came along, her ass went south. Now you don’t look at her the way you used to. You are only there because you are used to her, probably too old and fat yourself to get another finer bitch, and you don’t have the power and money to survive child support, alimony and the demands of a hotter sweeter, and maybe younger bitch. And of course, yeah, you love her too. THINK ABOUT IT!

Jrnl Entry No. 6.29.2003

Well, my daughter left New York this morning. We, (her mom andI) were to have a six week summer visitation plan, just as the standard, long distance, visitation agreement says. Janelle, says she doesn’t want to stay that long because when she gets bored, expecially at night, she starts missing her mother. For the most part, she’s fine when she’s here, no problems. But since Victoria wants to be a good mother who listens to her child and plus, she probably has a hard time being away from Janelle we agreed upon 3 wks in June, 3 Wks in August. So it is that, and since, if we would follow the way we’ve been doing things, that would require me to make 4 trips back and forth from New York to Ohio to pick Janelle and my mother up and drop them off; now, when my car was new and I was excited about taking trips in it and driving back and forth from New York to Ohio, thinking I was doing something, mobile, not stuck in Ohio with no life or half a life at best; back, three years ago, taking all those trips was fine. But, New York is my home now. I been here four years, and I hate taking trips to Ohio, and plus my car has 120,000 miles on it.

The plan was Janelle stay three weeks, Victoria come and pick her and my mom up in New York and take them back to Ohio. Just so happens Victoria fucked me out of a week and I only got to spend to two weeks with Janelle. On her pick up mission, Victoria wanted me to meet her an hour outside of New York in Pennsylvania.For one, she picked up Janelle in New York before in Jamaica Queens, so why this time, she ask me to drive an hour out of my way? For two, the hour drive was not a part of the original deal. For three, she’s been dicking me on visitation from the beginning; the first year of Janelle’s life until I went to court; when I first moved to New York until I went to court again; and in 2002, I only seen Janelle a total spreadout, one month the whole year. So fuck her; she has to follow my direction, which she was scared shitless to do, and meet me in New York City to pick up Janelle. Since she was mad, she didn’t take my mom back to Ohio.

I had my FINALl fight with Watrina. We’ve been dating for two years now and every since the beginning, because initially she wasn’t serious and had friends calling her cell phone all the time; over the past two years, she has called her self being serious and has gotten rid of a few friends. But one guy in particular, Thurston, calls her often and tells her about his life and she tells about hers I suppose. This same guy, in our first six months of dating, invited her to Vegas to initiate his killer advance attack to fuck her. She went; she claims she didn’t fuck him; he tried rubbing on her, but she made him sleep on the floor. That could be true, but it could also be true that she fucked him. I rule out neither possiboility. She claims they’ve been friends since she met him on a trip to visit her sister in Kansas City when she was twenty. But this guy, even though she says she told him she don’t feel him that way, he’s just persistent in his effort to maintain a friendship in hopes of fucking her one day; she knows it and I know it, but she still allows this friendship to exist even though, I, the guy she says she’s made a commitment to be with in life, doesn’t agree with the friendship and wants it to end. Thurston called her yesterday while we were at her cousin’s baby 1st birthday party together. He calls most of the time when we are together like when we were at disney world he called. So I ask her, ‘what do I gotta do to get Thurston out of my life?” She says, “stop answering my phone and listening to my messages.” She was making it clear that she is gonna talk to this guy no matter what I think, want and feel about it. I started to ask her what I got to do to get Thurston out of her life, but I rest my case and stood silent for the rest of the day to contemplate can I be with this young lady who is suppose to be serious and trying to build a future with me, but who blatently is disrespecting my feelings on this other male friend issue.

She asked me did I want to see her later that night and I said, “no”. She asked was I gonna see her ever again and I said, “I don’t know.” We rode silent for a moment again and then she ask, “can I make a phone call.” I didn’t say anything. She picks up her cell phone and calls Thurston to talk about his day. I tried to keep my cool. About three minutes into the conversation, I grab her cell phone and throw it out my car window. After her pointing hard on the side of my head and asking why I did that and saying I was gonna buy her a new phone, we were five minutes away from her house and she tries to get her daughter and get out the car. Now, I wasn’t gonna let her do that so she’s fighting to get out the door, and I’m fighting to keep her in. I almost got into one accident. It’s surprising how close you can be to a car and actually swerve and miss it. So we fighting the whole five minutes home. Finally, when we get in front of her door, and I think its over, she grabs my keys. My car was in neutral and I hadn’t put the break on yet. I hopped out the car on the passenger side to go after her and get my keys and the car went rolling down the hill and scrapped the side of a jeep grand cherokee. I have to not pay rent and pay $1,200 to fix that car. I’m already $3,000 behind on my rent. I might be on my way to eviction.

So now I got no girl, no job, no money, soon to probably not have an apartment. Is this what I get for not believing in god? But I’m calm through all of this. I guess  I’ll see how this turns out. I plan on not talking to Watrina anymore. I plan on taking Victoria to court to get our visitation finalized. I had a good interview with the YMCA and they’ll pay $50,000 which is $10,000 more than I was making. I still got my good looks, my good dick and tongue game which keeps any woman coming back like “The Magic Stick”.

My music is not going anywhere, and now is one of those times when I’m losing faith in it, but my music strength and faith will get back up in time. My life to me is better than some, but yet still fucked up to my in my eyes.

THE BLACK MAN IS FINISHED circa: 2005

The Black Man in America is finished. Star & Buckwild on Power 105.1 NYC said it first.

I am under the impression that he is right. One reason for me lending credence to his statement is: 1. I just started working as a temp in the finance department of a large insurance company. In the office here I see a large Asian population as the minority group of choice for employment; both men and women. There are about four black women and three black men in the entire building. Also what I have been seeing on the streets of New York City is beautiful African American women, both mixed race black, light-skinned and dark walking hand in hand with white men; quality black women who look gainfully employed, fashionable and sexy, they are with white men.

So the situation is this. Black men have a 50% unemployment rate in New York City. I have a bachelor’s degree and I can’t seem to find or keep a job so what does that say about those without a degree? They are working shit jobs with minimal pay and no benefits, and sistahs are not trying to hear it. Add to that, a few kids, criminal record and bad credit or no credit at all; it all adds up to the fact that black men’s approval rating for employment in a white or other ethic-group owned business establishment is falling to ZERO also. No one wants to deal with us.

I happen to think that I am honest and hardworking with integrity, but yet, after countless phone screening calls for interviews because my name is a very American name – which some of the calls get diverted because of my deep African American voice – and also countless interviews where I’ve interviewed well, spoken well, written thank you letters expressing my interest in the position as well as follow up letters to show my interest even further, I have yet to come up with a full-time job paying me a competitive salary where I can live comfortably in the New York City area.

Add to the aforementioned, the brothers who think they are gonna hustle for life, act like, dress like, talk like and dream to have a recording contract to become the next Jay Z; you have a population that is quickly becoming irrelevant and obsolete to society as a whole. With President Bush in office, the government is not looking after us {neither did President Obama}. We damn sure ain’t looking after ourselves. There is no hope for black men, especially when black women who are classy and sassy and independent don’t want anything to do with us. We won’t die, but we will be just as good as dead in America with everyone ignoring us, with us competing against ourselves and not supporting one another, WE ARE DOOMED!

Now if you take this theory into consideration seriously, it could give validity to the statement of one politician; we need to start aborting the black ghetto babies. Because look at the stats: for the millions being born, especially black males, only 10 % of them will make it to be something in life if we continue living by the system of, “be a good boy so a white man will give you a good job.” The white man is only employing 1%-5%, rarely 10% minorities into his corporation; half of the 10% will be of other ethnic groups, non-African American, and the 1%-5% of African Americans he employs, half of those will be women; that leave ½% – 2.5% African American males employed within American corporations, gainfully employed to take care of their family in whole or in part.

In America, our situation has gotten better since civil rights, but taking a look in large cities such as Atlanta, New York, Chicago things are really remaining the same; while it is illegal to discriminate, it’s all being done blatantly anyway in legal fashion. Take for example, every time an African American waves a gun in the presence of police in New York or even appear to reach for a gun or have an object that is presumed to be a gun, HE IS INSTANTLY GUNNED DOWN TO DEATH, 30 to 40 ROUNDS TO THE CHEST, ARMS AND LEGS! But just a week ago, a 24 year old white male was waving a gun in the presence of cops; yes they shot him, but only three times with one bullet puncturing his stomach and HE LIVED! Also turns out that he was a cop himself off duty who had just been beaten by a gang of guys in the store that he was shot in front of. When you are young and white, you get shot 3 times and you live; when you are young and black, you get shot 40 times AND YOU DIE INSTANTLY, and it is all justified by the mayor and police commissioner.

Even though it’s 2005 / And the shit is not allowed to the eye / In my mind it’s alive and well. Everybody, even the black man himself is against the Black man. You got black students at Harvard refusing to identify with being black. You got black people who don’t want to identify with black movies and television shows. It seems as if everyone wants to mix with the white man and just forget themselves and soak up all of the white man culture. We have taken the notion of mixing and learning and being open minded a little too far whereas we want to forget “Big Mamma and Nem’”, Uncle Ernest and Aunt Bertha.

It seems as if all men who make it at least to corporate middle class status want something light on their arm, whether that is light or white. How did it come to this? My frat brother came to New York and we were walking around down in SoHo. Every woman he commented on was light or white. He noticed this one particular white lady and granted, what he said about her, “she is classy” was true, but also I noticed that when fine beautiful dark women walked past, he did not utter one comment about them. I had to say something to him about it. Of course he gave the, “I love all women” speech. His wife is light skinned, and granted she is beautiful – when I first met her I personally wished she was mine, or that I’d one day have a woman just as beautiful. But, if I’m being honest with myself, I want a brown to dark sista with full lips and round nose and dimples, ass and thighs and hips and nice breast.

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 Watrina 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! 

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 …….!

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). 

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.