Jrnl Entry No. 10.13.1999

I’m sitting here waiting for a summary of income statements to finish printing. I’m goin’ home tonight to see Sausha, to see Janelle. I’ll probably go and check Flynn out just to spend some time with him you know. I haven’t talked to him in a while. He’s probably doing nothing, fucking with some bitch from somewhere. I was thinking on my way home from lunch that Flynn has tow-motor experience, and probably could get a job working in the warehouse here at The Italian Job. But 1. They probably don’t need no more workers. 2. I remember him saying that he would not like to live in New York. I bet that him and Burton would love it up here; I mean all the boriquaz you could imagine and whatever else of light skin they may like. I mean madd shit to get into like Windexter used to say.

I don’t know of all the madd shit, but I’m learning a few spots. And take for example like Saturday night just hangin’ out at the party and watching the girls and cars go by was like fun on the really. I was just sitting there not ready to go home, chillin’ you know. Man the bitches up here is like, I don’t know, but whatever they like, I don’t like em’. One thing I do like though is seeing my people in places, ugly or not. I mean most women you see usually have a nice ass in some tight jeans, but it’s like sometimes they try to be too fly and just disturb my whole shit for em’. And the weaves and braids are ridiculous.

Sausha says she was getting hawked up here and I know why. She has that natural beauty, not flyness, but beauty: natural hair, natural skin, and a little sexy body to go with it. Guys like that naturalness in a woman. Girls here don’t understand the concept that a pair of nice fitting jeans, a nice quality pair of shoes or boots, and a nice fitting top, with pants and top showing off your curves a lot or a little is the sexiest outfit for little to no money. They try to get too fly here and half of them don’t got it and won’t get it.

Burton needs to move his ass up here, but I think he is scared; scared that he won’t get attention for his dreads for the most part. See, down there in Ohio he stands out because he looks like he is from here in New York. The same with Maxumus, he is in Warren with one of the best girls in town. I can’t say best looking because I haven’t seen her in a while. But I say one of the best because she is gainfully employed with car, apartment, owns a house and is trying to buy another one. She can be very beautiful when she wants to be. She has three kidz: two by my man Ceasar whom she would have married had he not died in a motor cycle accident. She just had a kid by Maxumus whom she has just had a thing for since I don’t know when. I guess she will stay with him also and probably get married.

Now for some reason I don’t think that Alissa is looked upon and judged for having three kidz. Let’s take a look at why. Well, mainly because of the things I mentioned about her up top. She is taking care of her business well. She is not living in the projects; seems to have it all figured out just the same as Lauryn Hill or any other independent woman. It’s not that you are judged for having three kidz; if you are going to birth three kidz into this world without no way to take care of them besides the Gov’t, it looks like bad planning on your part; therefore, yee shall be judged by some people.

But back to Maxumus for a moment; he is from Queens N.Y., but he seems to be havin’ a great time in Warren, Ohio. He is having a great time because he has that quality of being from New York, which makes him different from all the rest of the little people in Warren. He was or is a drug dealer which hoes seem to love in Warren. Now in N.Y. what would he be; a petty drug dealer out of the thousands and that is it. There would be nothing special about him. He would just be an average, short, bow-legged little nigga, and he is afraid of that. I don’t really know, but if he could be something else better in N.Y., why is he is Warren? I heard he was thinking of moving back to N.Y., but Alissa didn’t like the idea. I guess she is afraid to make a move also. She said that she wanted to move from Warren to Atlanta or N.Y. but she still remains. I don’t think she is afraid of losing any recognition that she has in Warren because all women need for recognition is an ass, some tidys and an average face, all of which she has; a beautiful face actually.

I guess mutha fuckaz is afraid to take chances and just make a more exciting life for themselves. Mutha fuckaz complain, complain, complain, but come opportunity to go, they stay put; nervous confined or a corner. Living in Warren is for the elderly. I’m especially seeing that since I’ve been living in N.Y. for the last three months. People over a certain age shouldn’t be allowed to live within one hundred miles of this place. But what age should that be? 55,60,65? It should all be for the young and middle age. People say this place is fast and they don’t like it. Well I guess the constant movement will scare some. You do have to be very aware of all your surroundings, especially while driving. If you daydream for one moment too long, you’re in an accident.

People complain about their children growing up around all of these buildings with no grass or yard to play in. I say just what I said when everybody was telling me that I didn’t want to live here. I said there are millions of people already there, if they can do it so can I. Millions of kidz have grown up there and turned out just fine, just as good as some of the ones I grew up with in Warren playing baseball and kickball in the Highland Holmes in the grass. Whether it’s fear to grow up and just make the best out of a different living situation or that the city is not for everyone, when you mention N.Y., Mutha fuckaz get frozen. I ain’t scared of this place. Fuck this place, I’m gon’ conquer his city like P Diddy!

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN SCARED TO MOVE: DIFFERENT JOB, DIFFERENT NEIGHBORHOOD, DIFFERENT CITY, DIFFERENT STATE? WHY?

Jrnl Entry No. 8.7.2001

I feel like shit for a couple of reasons. I can’t seem to make tracks, or at least I don’t think I’m making tracks that niggaz would want these days. If I was making these tracks for people back in 1991-1996, I’d be all good. I tried putting together this track using these horn riffs from this Jazz CD yesterday and I couldn’t get it to come together, and even if I did get it to come together, no one rhymes to shit like that anymore anyway.

I can’t stop thinking about Sausha for some reason. I wish I could be with her right now and I am longing to see her and make love to her. She was so sweet to me. She may be a big hoe, fucking every nigga in Warren she can get her hands on and I wouldn’t know it because I’m in New York. But as far as I know, she was the sweetest simple, and sexy girlfriend I’ve ever had. I need a woman in my life and she would be the perfect one I think. I keep having these little thoughts in my head, “—-, fuck this Hip Hop Music production shit and move back to Ohio and be with Sausha. Maybe move to Akron or Cleveland and we could be together and live happily ever after.” But what and the hell would I do in Ohio? What and the hell am I doing here in New York? I’m just torn on a few issues.

While I like Watrina, she is young and has other things on her mind besides being with me. I assume she is how all New York women are, busy running around doing whatever, whether that whatever is messing with other guys or taking care of life’s business, there is only little time for sex and relationships. Like last night, she was getting home at 10 P.M. Now where she was coming from, I didn’t give much thought to it, and I didn’t ask her neither. I picked her up from the train station because I wanted to see what her weave in her hair looked like. I didn’t like it at all except for the front part where she had her natural hair braided. The back was filled with garbage Shirley Temple curls that don’t look or feel like hair.

The other thing that is bothering me is my job. I need more money that is one thing and I know I am not gonna get it here. If I go and work for any old company just for more money, it’s gonna be the same cycle as with Circle K, as with The Italian Job; 2 years then boredom and ready to find a new job and I don’t want to go through this again. I want to work somewhere that I’m excited about working, will stay there and excel in my profession. The other thing is that I just want to be settled; have a good woman making nice money so we can buy us a house. I want to do something also besides work for someone, but what besides produce music, I don’t know? So maybe my wife will have an idea and be ambitious enough to follow through and make it happen. Watrina has ideas but she is far from my wife, wanting to be my wife or even becoming my wife.

That is basically why I am feeling shitty. I just turned – and what do I got to be happy about? I should be happy that I am a college graduate. I am happy that I have reliable transportation. I am happy that I am able to take care of myself: cook, clean, dress myself. I am happy that I have a beautiful daughter and she knows me and loves me and talks to me on the phone. I am not happy that I have no money. I am not happy that I can’t drive my car into the city on the weekends because you can’t park nowhere. Who has money to park in a parking garage and pay $5 to $8 an hour to park your car, or park at a two hour meter which there are never any open spaces? And if you do find a space at a mater, two hours is not enough time to do anything; or less than that, most meters are for one hour.

I spent like three hours in the Barnes & Nobles book store Sunday reading Richard Wright “Native Son” I found a free spot to park just as I was about to start heading home. Native Son is a good book, sort of what I’m goin’ through right now, a dilemma between what I want to do and what will the white man let me do? Only difference is I am actually doing a little with my life working as a dead end accountant instead of hanging on the streets with my friends doing nothing. I am not happy that I seem to be in the land of opportunity for everything that I like to do, but yet no one seems to want to help me take advantage of those opportunities. I am not happy that I do not have a steady woman in my life who is aching with ambition to start something like I am and we can start it together. I am not happy that I am reaping what I sewed with Lauren from Watrina. Lauren loved me so just like I have thoughts that I love Watrina. I went out with my friends on the weekends. I split up my time with her because I was also fucking Rebecca at the same time. Watrina is doing the same thing right now. She likes me, but she’s probably fucking with someone else and could give a fuck less if I am in the picture or not. She probably has a dick that is equally as good to her as mine, just like I had Rebecca in my case of losing Lauren who gave me equally good sex. I am not happy that the woman I think I love is in Ohio. I am not happy that I was going through this same feeling about Lauren last year around this time exactly; talking about marrying her and shit. So maybe this is just a side effect of what I am thinking about Sausha that I will go through every year during the summers until I get married for real. So maybe I love Sausha but I really don’t want to be with her at all. Maybe I’m just feeling really lonely right now. I guess I am bored and maybe these thoughts are a result of my boredom. Maybe I’m money broke and these thoughts are a result of my brokenness. Is money the answer to my problems? Is a woman or wife the answer to my problems?

WHAT HAVE BEEN SOME OF YOUR THOUGHTS IN ALONE AND LONELY TIMES?

Jrnl Entry No. 6.25.2001

I received word and written notice that my performance at The Italian Job sucks and if my performance doesn’t improve, my employment will be terminated. Personally, I think they should have been fired me because my performance has been sucking. I have no desire, motivation, or interest in really working here. My only interest in working here is paying my bills.

I don’t know what’s going on in my life right now, but I feel like I am in a real slump. I know why but I don’t know what I can do about it. I want to be working at a record label or producing Hip Hop songs for people to listen to, or I want to be doing both. The music industry consist of friends, of friends, of friends. It’s a real coterie industry; from the artist to the executives in charge, they are all friends of friends. I don’t have any friends in the music industry; therefore, it will be hard for me to get a production deal or a job at a label. Sure I could hand out beat tapes till the end of time. Sure, I could send in resumes every three months. Both of which, at one time or another, I have done so, and I got nowhere. So I’ve concluded that resumes and tapes are not the answer.

I’m just breezing through life right now. I think sometimes about what I could be doing to get what I want, but I don’t think I am thinking hard enough. Maybe I’m in slow motion about this because even though I complain about my life, the most important of life’s necessities, I have: clothes, food, shelter, bills paid, car, daughter taken care of.

As far as the music goes, some may say it’s good I’m not desperate and doing it for money. That statement is half true. I want a Range Rover, a Benz E400 Class and a Lexus GS 400. I want a nice 4 or 5 bedroom home, not a mansion. I want a nice amount of money, enough to have to not worry about money. Music is how I think I’m gonna get there, but then again, I don’t have the answers to none of this shit. It is all a toss-up, and where will you land, who the fuck knows. I’m just gonna live the bullshit life until further notice; fuck it.

I make nice beats I know. I also make some bullshit that I don’t like so I ain’t just being eccentric where I think all my shit is the best a mutha fucka could hear. Hell, ain’t nobody got the best shit that one man could ever hear. After one hot song, there is gonna be another one to follow, and another after that, all by three different productions teams.

I said to myself that I’ll probably just one day give up the dream of getting on in the music industry and just do the shit for my own pleasure. People say don’t give up, keep trying and trying. I don’t know, it just seems like a lot of closed doors out here in the world, and I ain’t the nigga to just keep knockin’ and knockin’ and not getting’ no answer. Like I’ve ended other letters, Fuck it. I’ma live. I need to stop complaining about this shit because I’m tired of complaining also. Just realize that I’m trying as much as I can. Life is fucked up and even when you try sometimes you still come up with nothing. So in essence, life ain’t what you make it because I’m trying to make my life what I want, but it seems I ain’t makin’ shit!

WAS THERE A TIME YOU REALIZED ALL THE ACTIVITY YOU’RE ENGAGED IN TO MAKE YOUR DREAM COME TRUE, WAS ACTUALLY NOT MAKING YOUR DREAM COME TRUE?

@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. II

stop walking slowly around a track, thinking u r exercising. ur only working out ur ankles, not ur fat ass & stomach #blackpeople

#steveharvey #blackwomen always have excuse of y they can’t get 2 the gym or running. get ur ass n the gym & on the treadmill. no excuses

black people y do most think its so hard to run for exercise? wow,is u runnin around da whole block? a man asked me after my 4th lap around.

One morning while running 8 laps around the Boys and Girls High School track in Bedford-Stuyvesant Brooklyn, a distance of approximately two miles, I saw all Black American people on the track doing some sort of workout, which was good, but was it really? I saw a middle age couple probably in their early 50s walking very casually around the track in their workout cloths and sneakers. The woman was not particularly fat or out of shape and she looked nice for her age. The man had a round gut and looked very out of shape. After they walked around the track three or four times, they proceeded to the bleachers and she began stretching as if she had done some strenuous muscle and joint straining exercise which could later leave her sore.  

I saw other older people in their early to late 50s walking around the track as well. I also saw two fat younger women in their 30s sauntering casually and having conversation while calling themselves exercising. There were two gentlemen there who looked maybe like prior cell mates or just unemployed neighborhood guys, or they could have had jobs of some sort (who knows, but given the high unemployment rate among Black American males ???); they had sun-burned caked up dark skin; had on baggy clothing so I could not tell if they were fat and out of shape or not. They were doing push-ups and sit ups together, and they’d walk casually around the track twice – which during the walk I saw one of the guys smoking a cigarette – before retreating to do more stretching, push-ups and sit-ups.

There was one woman in between the ages 35 – 41 running a little and walking a lot. While another lady in her 40s, whom I could tell was fine in her younger day; maybe she had a kid or two, maybe not; while she was not walking casually, she was walking at a speed a little less than what it takes to move a person’s heart rate up for sufficient exercise. In her tight workout outfit, I could tell she used to have a nice ass and big perky breast in her former years, but due to bad eating habits and lack of exercise, her roundness expanded and had become shapeless and unattractive. As I passed her on the same spot of the track every two laps I ran, I thought, “if she ate better and actually did a more strenuous workout, she could retrieve her nice body for a woman her age.” She was already out on the track every morning, which meant she was dedicated to her workout of walking, but seeing little results. Another woman in her 40s would always stick close to the bleachers. Her workout consisted of jumping rope a bit and running up and down the bleachers at a rapid rate until she got tired, which was a pretty good work out, speeding up her heart rate. But looking at her, as she was also out there every morning, I could tell she ate all the wrong foods which only made her current exercise regimen help to maintain her current out of shape look.

Seeing these individuals doing this mediocre exercise only gave me motivation to run past them during my 8 laps with pride in the fact I had built up my wind to run such a distance; sure, I know many people run much longer. But as a petite guy, running a triumvirate of 5 miles during the week would cause me to lose weight which was not my goal. As I was passing these individuals I’d think to myself, “Black American people are so lazy and do not like to exercise”

When I was 29 I started running in an effort, I believed, to keep my weight down as I’d heard you started gaining significant weight in your 30s. When I first went to the track in Astoria Park, Astoria, Queens, New York I forced myself to run 1 whole lap around the track non-stop. Of course not having run regularly, this left me winded. I’d stop at the 1 lap mark and walk to the next curve of the track, where I’d then proceed to run another lap back to that point. I’d then walk to the next curve of the track and then begin another lap back to that point. I’d do this four times then I’d go home. I’d repeat this regiment at least 4 days a week. As the laps began to get easier, I then progressed to a lap and a quarter, and so on. I’d do that routine four days a week until I built myself up to 2 laps at a time, 4 laps, 6 laps then to 8 laps. I had started in April and was up to 8 laps by August. In August I was running 8 to 12 laps around the track 5 or 6 days a week, until my pants in a certain belt loop started falling off of me, which was when I realized I was running too much and/or eating too little and so I cut back.

My point is, though I did not know the young woman’s routine of her laps and how she was going to go about building up her tolerance to run longer, something told me she would not keep up a routine because Black American people running for long stretches is not what I see many of us do on a regular basis. And the walking casually around the track without any rise in heart rate, which I saw many people doing, especially the younger fat Black American women, literally disgusted me in its perpetuation of lethargy. Walking in a non-rapid pace only exercises your ankles and more likely than not, walking at any rate, it takes a person twice as many miles/laps to walk as it does to run. Fat Black American women who were probably eating a diet high in pasta, fried foods, salt and sugar; walking around the track gossiping was doing totally nothing for them. They seemed to think just because they got out there, they were doing something good, when in all actuality, they were doing next to nothing. Walking is better than sitting, but you merely get your blood to flow at best, and strengthen your ankles, doing nothing for your fat stomach, which a running, sit-ups work-out and change of diet would help tremendously; nor does walking do anything for fat thighs or waist which requires other strenuous exercise. Just because you go to the gym does not mean you are working out. To gain muscle or lose weight, you must work out properly and eat properly as well; eating is a totally separate subject.

@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. I

black people, what i’m about? I would like 4 u 2 realize how no 1 really likes us how we do not support each other how undereducated we r

black people u may think i’m promoting a race war, gross prejudice, etc. no, go about it n the same stealth manor as they do, with a smile.

Reading this book, you may think, “this guy is a self-hating race trader.” When in all actuality, I love my race so much, I’ve looked around and analyzed what goes on in our community or “hoods” as we like to call them. First observation, yes, we have been subject to racism and preclusion from opportunity. Second observation, yes, we have allowed ourselves to be beat down, seemingly without a fight, without much organization; NOT ACCEPTABLE! We seem to have settled for the table scraps we have been given by the government and programs of racial equality which came along with the Civil Right Movement; acquiesced and ceded all power and control of our lives: social, economic and yes political to other races of people: Irish, Italian, Jewish, WASP etc.

We seem to take each other for granted. We take each other’s education for granted – As of 2017, I was told that an African woman CEO from Kenya, hesitated in hiring me for a Controller role, paying $90,000 because I was Black American, and truth be told, I swear I saw her stop in her tracks and regroup herself once she saw me through the glass window of the conference room where we held our face to face interview.

We take getting an education for granted. We take hard, long farmer’s-hours (5AM – 9PM NOT 9AM TO 5PM) work ethic for granted. All of the things we take for granted are things that have gotten other races, which were pariahs in America, respect in many different areas of life and economic industries in which they prosper in this nation.

Do I hate Black America people, NO! I just wish we would realize that we could be a better people and make our future history in this country so much greater and richer with the use of civilized manors, education, articulation of the English language and self-appreciation of all the talents we do and can possess, not just football, basketball, singing, dancing and acting; which we do not have full and total control of these talents we seem to be so great at.

For, it seems to me that every other outside culture to these United State of America has complete or majority economic, political and inter-working control of an industry or a few industries: Jews (media, film, real estate), Irish (fire and police departments), Italians (mob, construction and unions), Arabs (corner stores in the hood). These people have complete and total control over these industries with very little interference and questions regarding their operations practices. Black American people make music, but Clive Davis and Jimmy Iovine controls/controlled the industry. Black American people play basketball, but David Stern (who has retired and now bequeath his position to one of his brothers of Jewish ethnicity, Adam Silver) is the commissioner interpreting rules and regulations and there has been one maybe two (Bob Johnson of BET and Michael Jordan), majority control Black American owners, of any NBA franchise.

Black American people have been freed from slavery much longer than Jewish people have suffered from the Holocaust and racial discrimination in Germany and in America. How is it that Black American people have been held down by racism and preclusion from opportunity for such a long stint of time? Even in this day and age when Jim Crow is over, we have a great number of persons within a generation who have graduated from college; many Black American people are on a tract and/or have already started their own successful companies. My question or longing to know, is, when do we start to replicate success, entrepreneurship and long standing company enterprises and legacy building as a culture; not necessarily racism, but rather racial nepotism, because a rich White American billionaire may invite you into their home as a friend, but may not invite you into the board room as a participating decision making board member and/or share secrets to his/her success, or even much less, give you a decent gainful employment job (the kind that allows you to save and buy a nice home, drive a decent car, save for your children’s college education and your retirement), but they’ll train their son or daughter or even the sons and daughters of their White American friends into a management level employee, COO, CFO or successor CEO. Of course, no one admits this or says it out loud, it just is, and as it seems, FOREVER WILL BE!

@BLK_PEEPSTOP No. 0

One night, Nov 9, 2012 4:00 AM, while expunging excrement from my body after having eaten a whole bag of Chips-A-Hoy chocolate chip cookies and four bowls of Honey Nut Cheerios, all with milk, while also high on an Ice Coffee – I usually do not drink coffee – I had purchased earlier from “The Pantry” on Decatur and Lewis Ave, after my two mile run around the Bedford Stuyvesant Brooklyn, NY block of Decatur and Chauncey Street between Lewis and Stuyvesant Avenues; I was reading a book, “Men Woman and Children” by Chad Kultgen. I thought the book to be true to average American middle class White American life; it was a dramedy and I was enjoying the read. It hit me, that while I already had a book in production which would take me years to finish, and just after hearing from my girlfriend I’d been involved with for 11 years (currently my fiancé as of this writing in 2013) (it’s currently 2019 and economics of it taking a Black American man twice/three times as long to find employment as a White American man, the relationship has dissolved.) through an emotional tumultuous relationship which had not culminated into marriage just yet, that I would be a good writer, a project which I thought I could finish very quickly as a book and maybe even a series of books came to mind.          

One day Oct 4, 2012 as I had come home from a morning run around Boys and Girls High School track in Bedford Stuyvesant Brooklyn, searching for a new employment position and dealing with covert (so they thought) discrimination of recruiting agencies as well as from individual company HR recruiters who all would call me at this time due to a great background and resume, but the moment they heard my voice – which I was not doing my job to disguise it to sound like Brian Gumble, defunct of any natural bass and/or Black inflections in his speech – and heard that I was a Black American man, it seems they quickly lost interest in speaking with me regarding Accounting Manager positions paying $85,000 – $110,000 even though I had 10 solid years of work experience, 5 at the last company I was employed. I had recently passed my Certified Public Accountants (CPA) examination, which I thought would boost my credentials as a job candidate, but companies all seemed to have no interest in finding me positions or hiring me.

A deep enmity for Corporate America and in tandem White America began to brew inside me. I began to despise my own race of people because I thought, due to their ignorant ethos, cultural shibboleths and ways of living, it was reflecting badly on me in the eyes of recruiting agencies and employers who took the chance to invite me in for a personal interview, but I was not receiving any offers.  On this night in October is when I came up with the Twitter name @BLK_PEEPSTOP (since then, no longer active) to expunge all of my thoughts about things Black American people do, don’t do, say, don’t say, think and don’t think which are either beneficial or detrimental to Black American people’s survival on American soil.

For it seemed to me White America and Corporate America had and have been discriminating against Black Americans blatantly in the early 60s and 70s and covertly during the 80s, 90s, 2000s and beyond; you’d think we’d get it by now and wean ourselves off of their placating, assuaging and coddling us, to become our own independent society who covertly (just as they do us) does not deal with or need them to survive. This charge was further exacerbated on Sun Nov 4, 2012 when I got my hands on a book called “Jerusalem 1913”, a story of how Zionist Russian and German Jews infiltrated Palestine in the early 1900s and took over the land to brew the boiling pot that cooks to this very day of Arabs having been pushed out of Jerusalem, fighting and bombing Israelites.

As I began to read my tweets, I thought that while some needed no further explanation, many others were not inexplicable and needed further analysis. So I started to write a book of my interpretations of the tweets. At the start of this book, there were 494 tweets directed at Black American people to infuriate them, educate them and hopefully get some discourse going of how we can become a better people. A few people started following me on twitter, but I quickly blocked them because I did not want any people of any kind, any organization following me; eventually, I came to the conclusion, I DID NOT WANT ANYONE FOLLOWING THIS TWITTER PAGE.

I addressed most of my tweets starting with: #blackpeople, hoping that would reach a number of them out in the tweet-o-sphere / Black Twitter, but that did not seem to be doing anything. I wondered if my tweets were getting blocked because they were too political or of a strong seditious nature. The first few days the tweets came to mind in rapid succession but quickly began to slow down. I surmised in my mind I was not doing this for followers, but to get this info out of my head and consciousness as I was talking to myself rather constantly on these particular issues because one can not readily verbalize these type of phrases or thoughts to Black American people without them getting very defensive or upset: as I tried many of times to disseminate some of these thoughts on my girlfriend and got into fervent discussions, she called them “arguments, which left her uneasy and losing sleep.”

My point to this whole project is that Black American people do not speak of such ills.  We sit silent while everything goes wrong in our culture, and we are used and abused by White American people of all backgrounds: Italians, Irish, Jewish, WASP, Germans, Russians, etc. Everyone seems scared to address particular issues.

But these are things I’ve reasoned with myself that need to be said directly to Black American people by Black American people.

There is a dichotomy of feeling in my writing, I’m a little jarred when other races of people talk about Black American people in this context, but when I speak on them myself, it seems I harbor many of the same ill feelings.  I think the difference is, I’m expressing these feelings hoping they will be erased and get better, but when other people of other races express these feelings, they are laughing at us with no hope that things will get better. My layout will be simple. I will post the tweet as written on twitter. I will then proceed to explain and articulate, as to what caused the thought behind the tweet and expound upon my direct reasoning and interpretation since twitter does not allow you to do such with just 140 characters.

THE BIRTH OF A NATION

If you know me, my first polemic against anti-Jim Crow / slavery movies started somewhere around the time of the release of the movie “Red Tails“. Apres, came “12 Years A Slave.” 

My remonstrance was that films like those, in addition to already having been made (in the case of Red Tails) and the story line being protracted and unoriginal, the plot to these particular movies only instills in Black Americans that “White American people DO NOT LIKE YOU, think you are unintelligent; you somehow have to break through their condescension, usually by way of the “Great White Hope” who gets his brothers to deign and allow you to prove your self-worth, be given justice – OR NOT! 

Along comes The Birth of a Nation. 1. Written by a Black American Man, 2. Directed by a Black American man, 3. Starring a Black American man, NATE PARKER; the handsome young man whose first claim to fame (as I came to know him) was starring alongside Denzel Washington in “The Great Debaters“. He also had a part alongside Queen Latifah (or maybe I should start calling her Dana Owens now, for she seized to be The Queen Lah long ago) and Alicia Keys, Jennifer Hudson, Dakota Fanning and Sophi Okonedo in “Secret Life of Bees“. I believe (because I’ll never watch it) he had a part in “Red Tails” as well. 

The Birth of a Nation: Slave / Jim Crow movie? YES! Horrific scenes and characters that every, so-called, great slave movie cannot do without, including the amiable and unctuous slave master? YES! 

Where does the difference come in with The Birth of a Nation? Why am I, the anti-slave / Jim Crow / Kill-A-N*gg* movie machine, touting this film? 

The film is an artfully mastered, bitter sweet build to a climax, which does not include the White American people assuaging their brethren to free themselves of their malignancy. Each step and passing phase causing the main character to amble toward apostasy, is palpable to the viewer; in particular an incident, easily removed from the eyes but immutable from the mind, taken in by the character Nat before his final sermon, at which point tears stream from his eyes as his words are surreptitously spoken past the slave masters and poignantly into the hearts of the slaves. His sermons and prayers then turn from repent, respect, this side’ll be over soon, heaven last always; to clandestine words of, your master will burn in hell, the first shall be last and the last shall be first and the meek shall inherit the earth. Then the INCIDENTS and the culmination of him praying over his grandmother, wrapped in cerement before her interment, pushes him to all out, no turning back, VIRULENCE! 

When Nat Turner surrenders, (in the movie version), he’s not hoodwinked by any legerdemain of a White American promising him mercy, forgiveness and a place in heaven after penitence in the crucible. Nat gives himself mercy and clemency and takes his life into his own hands without fear and with dignity.

When asked, “do you got any last words to say to these folks?” Instead of his staid reply, “I’m ready”, I wish, someway without despoiling the integrity of the period piece and artistry of the film, a slow motion shot could have panned across Nat’s eyes and in came a portion of the intro to Ice Cubes classic debut album, “Amerikkkaz Most Wanted” released in 1990, where the jailers come to get Cube and walk him to the denouement of his death row sentence and they ask, “you got any last words?” If Nat would have mouthed in Ice Cube’s voice, when Cube says, “Yeah, I got some last words …… FUCK ALL YALL!!!!

The disappointing part, The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences Nominations / Awards, better known as The Oscars??? Will they recognize the brilliance of Nate Parker’s transformation of character throughout the movie. Will they see the ineluctable moment in the film which shift his thoughts and the way in which he then went about his ecumenical duties; the build to final climax was nothing short of amazing. 

We all (including The Academy) could recognize The Remnant as a great movie and Leonardo Dicaprio‘s performance in it as brilliant. But will we all (including The Academy) be able to feel the nettlesome emotions emitted by Nate Parker in character as Nat Turner, at a plantation he’s to preach at, as he witnesses a wicked scene of a slave locked in a hovel sitting in feces, being forced fed. Will we all (including The Academy) recognize the protean nuances of venerability in the character leading to the climax. Will we all (including The Academy) be able to feel a Black American man’s pain when he realizes the word of God is being used against him and his people to keep them docile; that an act of God ultimately leads to his flogging. 

I hope that Nate Parker already realizes that with this film, The Birth of a Nation, HE HAS WON, more than any award: NAACP IMAGE AWARD, SAG AWARD or OSCAR, can ever bestow upon him and/or the film. But, If we all (including The Academy) want to even attempt to make moribund the term, “White Privilege”, particularly in Hollywood, The Birth of a Nation will receive nominations and DARE I SAY, NATE PARKER WILL WIN THE OSCAR FOR BEST ACTOR IN A MOTION PICTURE!

Jrnl Entry No. 6.11.2001

Timothy McVeigh was just executed this morning. My views on this are, “I don’t give a fuck.” He is the guy who blew up the state building in Oklahoma and many people died, including some black people I suppose. But that was like eight years ago which further helps me not to care, and none of my family or friends were involved in the bombing. But even if one of my friends or family had been involved, I probably still wouldn’t care.

You know five years ago my friend Ceasar Cicero was in a motorcycle accident. A pickup truck pulled out in front of him while he was strolling down the street. Now the guy who hit him was under the influence of alcohol. When Ceasar crashed into him, he kept on going instead of stopping. Ceasar was dragged by the truck by his hair because it was long. His face got all scrapped up and dismantled, and he had to have a closed casket. Now granted he wasn’t wearing his helmet at the time of the accident. A helmet could have saved him even though the doctors told his fiancé that it wouldn’t have because they didn’t want her to go crazy thinking what her life would be like if he would have only worn a helmet. Another thing that might have saved him is if the guy simply would have stopped the truck on impact instead of speeding off.

Now I knew Ceasar since Kindergarten. When he died, all I thought about was the fact that he was gone. I didn’t think about the guy who caused the accident. I thought about him a little after the funeral was over and he went to court and only got six months in jail for vehicular homicide despite the fact that he hit and ran and dragged Ceasar along with him, and he was also drunk. I thought that to be unfair, but did I want to protest constantly against the guy and wish him dead? No. After a while he just faded from my memory. I went and visited Ceasar’s grave for Memorial Day, and no thought came of the guy who caused the accident, just thoughts of, “I wish you were here. I wish, I wish, I wish.”

My cousin Romeo, his mom shot his father dead. I cried at his funeral for my love for him because he was a very nice man and good father as far as my eyes could see. I cried for Romeo and his sister Sary Kim. I didn’t see that Solomon was taking it too hard. He took it like a man I suppose I can say. During that time, I never had a hateful thought toward Romeo’s mother. Hey, she had some differences with her husband and one morning she decided to settle them. She’s been in prison for 10, 11 years now. Do I wish her death and pain? No, I do not.

My point is that killing the killer doesn’t make things better for the killed or the family of the killed. Now in Timothy’s case, he should die for taking multiple lives in such a way. He didn’t commit a crime he committed an atrocity.

I think personally that Romeo’s mother should be let out of jail now. 10 years in a cell is enough. I gave some thought to this and my prison system would work like this. If you kill someone, just one person, you get 10 to 20 years, 10 straight before possibility of parole. If you kill more than one person at a time, you get death. If you killed one person and get out and kill again, you get death.

Give drug dealers caught with a kilo or more, 5 years. They get out and get caught again, give them 10. No one should do life for the sale of drugs. Drug addicts can bounce back if they choose, so give the drug dealer a chance to bounce back. And after all, drug dealers don’t create the drugs they simply supply it and most of the time it’s through a middle-man. They are just capitalist and that is what America is all about. I think drug dealers are half-stupid for gambling with their freedom like they do, but on the flip side of it they are also kind of smart. Look the life they have.

Take Romelo Artrois for example. When he graduated from high school, he became a drug dealer. He fucked every bitch in town that I wanted to fuck and couldn’t fuck because I didn’t have any money. He had all the money. He had cars, clothes, trips to Vegas, etc. Look at the life of the guy in the movie “Blow”. He had millions of dollars, a big beautiful home, cars, everything he wanted, even a beautiful wife and kid. He lived this life for maybe ten years more or less.

Take me, after I graduated high school, I went to college. I graduated from college. I make $36,000 a year. I haven’t fucked half the bitches I wanted during my college years nor afterwards. I have a $16,000 car, a bum ass apartment, a few nice looking clothes, and no chance of losing my freedom unless I do something stupid. But the point I’m tryin’ to make is that I will probably never have the hottest car to drive, never be able to take trips to the Bahamas or Vegas, never have a big beautiful home. Or if I do get to have this life, it will probably take me another twenty years to get it. I have to work twenty years before I can do all this if I even want to do at that age.

While drug dealers, most in their twenties, have thousands of dollars laying around to do whatever the fuck they want in their youth. Most of them are stupid and wind up in jail 5 to 10 years by the time they are 27 to 30 years old. But I’m just saying, I wonder is the trade-off is fair. To have everything you want at your finger-tips: pussy, money, cars, etc; or, to live like a slave, working everyday for twenty years to build up a salary to have the same things. Truthfully, I feel like I’m in prison. I got to get up every day at 6:30 A.M. to go to work and all the money I make is for bills. I work and I go home because I can’t afford to go anywhere else.

If I didn’t have my daughter to think about while I’m living here in New York, I probably would be doing some stupid shit. Then again, maybe I wouldn’t because I’m just not that type of guy. I’m waiting patiently for my world to come together. I figure in five years, I’ll be paid more, my car will be paid off, etc. I’ll have a little extra cash to flaunt at age –. See what I mean? It’s like I got to do a five year bid before I can have a little freedom. Drug dealers have mostly all freedom out in the free world until they are caught. Do you get the analogy I’m trying to make here? This just seems my case thought. It depends on your life situation, and my life situation seems like I should have been a drug dealer. I wouldn’t suggest anyone be a drug dealer, let’s just say I can understand. You got money to spend. If you’re smart, you’ll save a lot of it. You get girls that the average good looking guy only dreams of having, and this is even if you are ugly, you still get them.

I hope my daughter doesn’t turn out to be a sack chaser; one who dates guys because they have money. I doubt that she will turn out that way with mine and her moms’ influence. My daughter is – now. She’s growing up on me. She was just here in New York for two weeks with me. Boy she has it really bad with allergies. She can’t blow her nose so she continuously sniffs the snot in. She cried seemed like for the first week that she was here. She whined about everything: she was sleepy, hungry, her belly hurt, her forehead hurt. I was a little concerned about the forehead thing. She said she hit her head on a flower-pot at home. She complained for three days straight that her forehead hurt, especially when she cried. After like three days, she never complained about her forehead again.

My cousin’s daughter Million was also here in NY with us. She’s a sweet little girl, well mannered. She says she’s good in school. She may just turn out to be the next family pride to rise up out the ghetto from a single parent home and be somebody. She says she wants to be an actress. She doesn’t really know what that means and what it entails, but I hope she pursues it and actually makes it. Her father is in prison for being caught with 30 Kilos of cocaine with intent to distribute locally and across state lines; Ohio to Kentucky. He’s been gone ever since she was three or four or maybe even before that. She enjoyed herself. I took my daughter and her to the empire state building viewing deck, to the museum of natural history. I drove them around in the city one night and rode pass Puff Daddy’s restaurant. Of course we went to Times Square. We went there with Watrina to take some pictures. On that particular day we also seen a model that Million’s mom has a calendar of that I bought her for Christmas. I pointed him out to Million. We were on fifth avenue in Manhattan in front of the building where Watrina works. Million shook his hand and said hi and I told her to take a picture with him. I intended to take Million and Janelle to the Zoo but Watrina said that the zoo should be like a three to four hour occasion. It closed at 5 P.M. I tried to wake up early and get them ready two mornings in a row, but I couldn’t get ready before 2 P.M. with bathing, feeding, and combing Janelle’s hair. I just said forget it because I was running out of money also. We made it to the movies to see Shrek. It was a nice kid movie and they enjoyed it.

Watrina and her daughter also came along. We did a lot of activities with Watrina. We went to Red Lobster with Watrina also. Watrina is my half girlfriend that I mentioned above. She’s – and just wants to kick it so to speak and not get too serious with anybody; just keep it on a cool level. So I say that half of her likes me and the other half wants to keep it light even though we spend a good amount of time together. I like her so far and her daughter is cool. We’ve been getting along for two and half months now. My daughter, at the age of – is writing her name. I didn’t start writing my name and stuff until I was – going on –. I was glad to see that. I asked her why she didn’t tell me over the phone that she writes her name and she said, “I don’t know.” Her mother and I don’t talk, but she could have told me that my daughter is writing her name.

Janelle told me that she and her mother have moved into a new house or apartment. Victoria hasn’t told me that yet either. I’m waiting to see when she will. I started to ask her about it when I dropped Janelle off, but I said, “knawl, I’ma see if she gonna tell me and give the new address and phone number.” I think a father has the right to know where his child actually lives not just the place where he picks her up and drops her off, which is at Victoria’s mother’s house. She’s eventually gonna have to give me the phone number and tell me because I’m about to start calling my daughter twice a week now instead of once.

Victoria probably has in her head that I don’t need to know where she lives for some reason or another. She’s always seemed to have some bullshit thoughts in her head concerning me and my daughter. She was going to see lawyers when Janelle was first born to ask them about how much she could keep my daughter away from me; what rights I had and what rights I didn’t. Victoria was looking kind of good when I dropped Janelle off. It only happens about twice a year that I see her looking attractive to me. I don’t mention it to her because I have no friendly words besides, “how are you.” After I saw her trying to play with me and my daughter’s relationship, that put whatever friendship we could have had out the door and over the top of the mountain.

I wish I could be around to watch my daughter grow up. I love being with her and watching her. And sometimes I have a little inkling of a thought of how could Victoria and I get back together. Maybe she’s grown up out of her, whatever she was going through when she had Janelle. Maybe her life is a little more together now because I don’t know anything about her: where she works, what she does, etc. I think sometimes that maybe we can make something happen. But then the reality of the situation is that it would take a lot of work with all the bad blood and bullshit she put up with me spending time with my daughter. I’ve seen the bitch in her and I don’t want no parts of it ever again. She can have that shit and save it for whoever decides to maybe marry her ass. So at the end of those get back together thoughts is the thought that I’m glad I ain’t glued together in marriage or engagement with her ass.

The relationship I have with my daughter is as good as it can be. Will I try to eventually do the family thing where I get married and my wife has a baby by me? To tell the truth, I don’t know. When you think about it, It’s all bullshit once things go bad. I don’t think my marriage will go bad none too soon, but I never know. I think I’m the easiest guy to get along with. I’m out to please. I try to be humorous and not all stick-up-the-ass. I work, I fuck, I cook, I comb little girl hair a little bit also, and I’m willing to try just about anything non-homosexual; that’s anything socially and sexually. I mean what more can a young woman ask for? But who knows, look at Victoria and i. And plus when people start getting older and older and maturing deeply and shit, shit sometimes gets all fucked up in the relationship or marriage. My wife may hit 40 and decide she wants to live in Africa. Hell, I might go, but my frame of mind right now, hell knawl.

Life is fucked up if you ask me and brining other lives into this shit is selfish truthfully. Most individuals have fucked up lives, are poor, dying from disease. I don’t think I want to bring another life here to face this bullshit. It’s gonna be hard enough getting my daughter through this life. My life at this point is all fucked up if you ask me. My half of girlfriend has brightened it a bit. My visitation arrangement with my daughter has also brightened it.

My music still isn’t going anywhere because mutha fuckaz don’t want to help nobody. They don’t even want to give you the slightest chance to make it. I’m learning this. I originally thought that if you had talent, it would be fairly simple to get someone to recognize that and give you that push you need to get to where you’re trying to go. I used to think all the time, “look at the entertainment companies and clothing companies: Bad Boy, SEAN JEAN, FUBU, Flip Mode Entertainment, FUBU Entertainment, Def Jam, Def Communications, etc. You can’t get near these companies.

 I went to FUBU to hand in a resume and I felt no love. It was just like walking into a white major corporation. They told me they didn’t have an accounting department, but they would take my resume and keep it on file. I saw Busta Rhymes in the village last year, and I had a tape on me. I originally thought that Busta was one of the coolest cats you would ever want to meet, cordial to his fans. He was surrounded by bodyguards. He was talking on the phone. His body guards were slippin’ because I walked right up to him and threw my hands up to give him a pound and he ignored me.  Then his body-guard came in my face and said that, “he can’t talk right now, he on the phone.” I walked away and then turned around and asked the body guard could I talk to him once he got off the phone. He said, “if it’s business, no. He chillin right now. Business hours are Monday thru Friday.” I just walked away and went on bout my business.

I got a telephone number of this female rapper “Uneek” I know from DJ Doo Wop Tapes back in the 90s. I talked to her once on the phone and she told me to call her back. I called her back three times and left my number and she never called back. I got Phantasm from the Cella Dwellaz number. I called it and I got no answer. It was probably a number to a pay phone. The bullshit never endz! I still love makin’ my music even if nobody listens to it. I still got the dream of producing a song on one album at least before I drop it and consider it a failure. Right now I feel like I’m failing in life. I’ve accomplished getting a college degree, but I just did that shit because I knew I had to take care of myself. I don’t really want to be an accountant sitting at this damn desk looking at a computer screen. I want to have some type of connections to music. Hell I can even be an accountant for artist or a record label. But that seems impossible too. How easy it is to get what you really don’t want, but when you have passion and really want something, it seems like all the road blocks in the world are up against you. “But fuck that shit cause I gots to live.” (Ice Cube) Whether I get what I want or not, I gots to liv

ANTHONY DAVIS LEBRON JAMES AND ???

LAKERS! ANTHONY DAVIS! and Kawhi Leonard???

I’m envisioning the days of the Super Lakers: Magic Johnson (LeBron James), Kareem Abdul Jabar (Anthony Davis), Michael Cooper/James Worthy) Kawhi Leonard; and their epic finals battles against the Boston Celtics.

Only problem with this vision is that the Golden State Warriors are Public Enemy Number One, one, one, one, ONE (sorry, I was overcome with Chuck Dee-itis) and the battle to ultimate glory would not be happening in the finals but in the third or final round of the NBA western conference playoffs. The accretion of anxiety toward the battle in the finals would not be there, and that’s no fun.

But yet and still. THE LAKERS AS TOP NBA FINALS CONTENDERS / CHAMPIONS once again is a great boost of ebullience to carry true Laker fans and band-wagon fans alike through the summer and end of fall to the start of 2019-2020 NBA season.

Problem number one, no arch enemy such as the Boston Celtics to take down in the finals. Obstacle number two, who’s going to be the third man? Kawhi Leonard, born and raised in Los Angeles and has fealty for the city where his dad’s life was ended tragically; there is talk of Kemba Walker, who brought an NCAA championship to the Connecticut Uconn Huskies during his tenure there (2008-2011) and has been a great 3 Point shooting asset to the Charlotte Bobcats throughout his pro career and would no doubt be the new Byron Scott or Robert Horry of a new Laker Dynasty; Kyrie Irvin, say what you want about his selfishness (a finger which was also pointed at Kobe Bryant) and his disturbance / non-affability in the locker room, but this guy has played with and WON A CHAMPIONSHIP with King James once before, and it was due to that selfishness (the life saving three pointers), not in spite of, THE CAVS WON THAT CHAMPIONSHIP in 2016!

Then of course there could be a less notable third addition that could step his game up and become a hero in the fashion of Fred Vanvleet for the Toronto Raptors.

So who’s it gonna be?

Whatever the situation, if the Lakers can’t get it done with the addition of a third man and the surrounding cast (which they just traded to acquire Davis) around the three, maybe their dynasty and dynasties period, is a thing of the past; as super teams come together in free agency for three years (Kevin Durant to the Warriors) and then disband, which yet remains to be seen with Durant and the Warriors; or super teams come together and fail: Russel Westbrook, Carmelo Anthony and Paul George. Hopefully that is not a foreshadowing of the Lakers.

This, remains to be seen!

Jrnl Entry No. 4.19.2001 “Rufus Blaq”

Sunday April 15, 2001 coming home from Hezikiah Walker’s church in East New York Brooklyn, I got off the A train at Nostrand Ave. I got off the train in pursuit of this female that was giving me a little eye contact on the train. She was completely not my type but at this point in time with no girlfriend, no sex, no nothing, I figured I’d lift myself up and go for it regardless of the fact. See, she got on the train with three kids. She was thick/fat with some big ole tidies. She started saying to the kids as she noticed me glancing at her, “y’all ready to go home and see mommy huh?” I took it as she was giving me the hint that these weren’t her kids, which if that was what she was doing, it was a good hint. At this point in my life, I don’t care how horny I am or how fine you look, if you got more than one kid, you gets no holla from me.

But anyway, I get off the train and follow her, but I decided not to talk to her. I’ve never been around Nostrand Ave and Fulton before and I noticed that it was like the old 125th st in Harlem that my friends and I used to visit from Ohio. So I goes looking around for a little bit. After about 10 minutes of walking around I stopped at a store before I was getting ready to catch the train to go home. As I get in line at the store, I see this guy who looked familiar to me. I hesitated a little, and then I shouted out “Rufus.” It was Rufus Moore AKA Rufus Blaq.

Now this kid from Youngstown, Ohio I met years ago when he and his dance crew “Eazy Access” used to perform at local talents shows in Warren. They could never compete because they were like professionals and everybody loved them. And when my fraternity used to throw parties on the college campus in Youngstown, he and his crew would always be there. I’d always big-up (sat whats up to) Rufus and the crew and they’d do the same in return. Rufus was also cool with Derrick “Dink” Trimble (R.I.P.), my frat brother. They kind of resembled each other and Rufus would say that Dink was his brother.

Now I remember at one party Rufus was coming in with his crew and they stopped to talk with me and some of my Frat brothers. Rufus said that he was about to move to Atlanta “to become famous.” Those were his exact words. I didn’t exactly know what he had planned on doing because I only knew him as a dancer. So I kind of thought he was gonna try to become a dancer/choreographer for videos and tour shows. So anyway, he disappeared and the crew told us that he moved to Atlanta. About a year later, I saw him at this after hours hang out spot in Youngstown on Market Street. He got on the microphone on top of the bar and he free-styled a nice rhyme for the crowd. He told me that he had written a song for Erick Sermon on some sound track. I think he also told me at that time that he had a record deal with Giant Records. I was like “cool.”

He went away again and about a year later, I seen him on a video with Pudgy The Fat Bastard and Young Zee doing a remix for the group “SOLO” and their song “I Got Heaven Right Here On Earth.” I thought to myself that his album should be following shortly. I had also heard a DJ CLUE mixtape with this LOX song on it, and the last verse, this cat sounded like Rufus. I could never talk to anyone who knew him and what he was doing so I couldn’t verify that it was him. He had made it into the Hip Hop record business. I was happy, never one to hate on anyone for accomplishing something. In fact I was also glad because I knew him and could probably talk to him about the music business since I had been interest in it also.

His album never came out on Giant Records. I thought he was coming out on So So Def Records because there was an ad in the source with all the So So Def artist listed, and one of the artist on there was Mr. Black. That was the name I heard Rufus call himself on the intro of the “I Got Heaven Right Here On Earth” song video, and since he had moved to Atlanta, it made perfect sense. About a year later, I saw him in Warren at this talent show after party at the Regency Hotel. I wanted to talk to him and get his number and ask him some questions about the business but it was in a loud party so we chatted about whatever. By this time I had discovered that the So So Def artist was not him and I asked him how is that gonna work in the business with both of them having the same name. He told me whoever comes out first or whoever rocks the hardest will be Mr. Black. I also asked him about the LOX song and I recited this lyric of his, “Is you doin the stickin or is you gettin’ stuck / Is you doin’ the fuckin’ or is you gettin’ fucked.” He told me that it was him. He gave me his number in Columbus, Ohio where he was staying at the time. I tried to call him a couple of times. I think I talked to him once.

About two years later after that, I gets a call on my voice-mail service at my moms house and it’s him tellin’ me that he was gonna be on the Vibe Show that night with Salt & Pepa. I don’t know if he was just happy and called everyone he knew or was I special somehow? So I watched and taped the show and he was on there with Salt & Pepa and he had a verse on their new song “Are You Ready”.  A couple weeks later, I seen the video and he was in it. About three/four months after that I heard a song on the radio by Salt & Pepa called “Gitty Up´ and he was on it at the beginning of the song. I knew it was him. I knew his voice. And then I saw the video for it and he was in it. He was on, and I all I wondered to myself was HOW? How did he do this, get with the leading super star ladies in rap, legends, Salt & Pepa?

After about a year after that Salt & Pepa debut of his, he had a single out called “Out of Sight.” I saw the video for it. I liked the song. It had a catchy hook to it. It wasn’t exactly hard core Hip Hop like I hoped it to be but hey, that is the way the music industry was moving in that time, away from hard core which didn’t sell that well, to the mainstream trying to sell platinum. At initial listen, I didn’t like the album. For one it had like three remake beats on it, and I hate remake beats especially the kind that they were using at that time. The greatest of all time remake beat, ever in Hip Hop was The Isley Brothers “Between The Sheets.” For two, he wasn’t flexin’ skill like I knew he could because I’d seen him rap before. And what was on his album was not what I expected from him. I just listened to the album the other day, which was called “Credentials”. All except for those remake songs, I liked it. He had a few hard core beats on there but he wasn’t flippin the skill like I’d known him to do. Maybe his producer Chad Elliot was against it.

So now, I ran into Rufus in the store and he gave me his numbers. Prior to running into him in the store I had asked for his number from one of my frat brother’s producers Pace Maker. He wouldn’t give me Rufus’s number, which I understood. He told me that he had to check with Rufus first. It’s been a year and he still hasn’t been able to check with Rufus about me getting his number. Technically, he didn’t know if I knew Rufus or not, and it seems as if he was not trying to find out either.

Now I’ve spoken with Pace Maker on many occasions about Hip Hop, about my beats, about his beats, and about my Frat Brother Stephen “The Fat Rapper” Collins’ Hip Hop career. I met Pace once in the studio in Ohio when they were recording one of The Phat Rapper’s songs. I thought him to be a cool cat and I liked him. We (him, me and Stephen) went out to eat after we left the studio that one night. I sent Pace some of my beats to get some critique on them and he did the same. He didn’t like but two or three of the thirty song snippets I sent him. I liked about six of the fifteen/twenty snippets he sent me. I think he is a talented producer, who if I had an album coming out, I’d rock to one of his tracks. I’ve written lyrics to two snippets on the tape he sent me. Outside of Stephen not letting me produce a song for him, and Pace not wanting me to produce a song for Stephen neither, I thought we had a pretty cool connection; until I ran into Rufus that is.

Rufus told me that Pace was in New York recording a song that he produced for Angie Stone through Rufus’s hook-up. Now if this is true, Pace came to New York and didn’t try in no kind of way to get in touch with me so that I could kick it with him and Rufus. And just before I bumped into Rufus, I had e-mailed Pace to talk to him since I hadn’t e-mailed him in a while. He said he hadn’t talked to Rufus in a while, that Rufus was a busy man and he still hadn’t asked Rufus if he could give me his numbers or give Rufus mine. So finding out he came to town and didn’t even try to holla at me tells me that we do not have a cool connection. It also led me to think that Pace is trying to keep me away from Rufus because he knows Rufus is well connected in the music industry and wants to keep all the hook ups for himself as a producer and not let me get any hook ups through Rufus. So until I find out different, I ain’t fuckin with Pace no more. And I ain’t tellin him that I finally got in touch with Rufus. My last test to find if Pace was really here is to ask Rufus Manager was he here. She’s straight up and will straight tell me. I asked both her and her boyfriend who was also Rufus manager and they confirmed that Pace had indeed been to town; a snake fake mutha fucka who doesn’t want you around because that may lessen an opportunity for him in the future; crab in a barrel ass nigga.

So, I gets in touch with Rufus and what is Rufus doing at this time? He’s writing R&B songs for this production company to submit to labels, mainly J Records, which has a little (well A LOT) to do with Clive Davis after he got let go from Arista Records. I called Rufus about three or four days after I had his number and left a message on his voice mails telling him how lonely I was and needed some friends, some women, etc. He calls me later that night around 11 P.M. while I was working on a Hip Hop track and he tells me to come to this studio.

I get there at 245 Canal St b/n Centre and Layfayette. He plays me this song he wrote called “Blowin’ It.” It was a nice song and he had a rap verse on it. He played a few more songs for me and they sounded nice also. Rufus told me that’s all he does is write songs by day, record them by night in the studio. He tells me about the production company, Ark Angel Productions and the camp there of rappers and singers that he’s bringin’ in. He listened to a few of my beats and said that I could produce a few songs for his artist, “Stack”. He heard a lot of weak stuff though because at this time I was tired with music and wasn’t making much and I wasn’t carrying around beat tapes anymore. Like the previous year, I wouldn’t leave the house without a tape in my hand.

Rufus said that I could be a part of the family because I was his friend who showed him love way before he was an artist on any label or signed to any production company and because he has mad love for my Frat Bro. Derrick “Dink” Trimble (R.I.P.). Being in the frat will help in the short or long term. If I hadn’t joined the frat, Dink wouldn’t be my frat bro. I wouldn’t have been able to talk and poly with Rufus before the parties started. He never would have looked up to me, which I think he did because I was an Alpha and a college student; thus, he probably wouldn’t have been and wouldn’t be accepting me as someone trying to be his friend, and trying to slowly get him to get me into this music game with him.

Rufus was like the best dancer in the group I recall. Kehl was also the man, and Ferino did weird shit on the dance floor. I liked them all because they were little somebodies. Like I said before, I’d always try to be cool and surround myself with people who had a quality about themselves. Rufus and Eazy Access had that quality. Rufus has, as far as I can tell, accepted me as his friend and into his music family. I’m goin’ over to his apartment today after work.

Rufus has projects goin’ for Angie Stone’s new album; Blaque’s new album; Salt’s new album; and Olivia, who’s signed to J Records, her debut album. He had the girl who sang the hook on the QB “Ooochi Wally” song, in the studio, and they banged out a nice song together. He writes these R&B songs with that hype-ness and energy that he used to put into his freestyle rhymes that I expected to be on his “Credentials” album. He’s definitely goin’ places with this music and will be plenty paid through a publishing deal very soon if not sooner. I told him the music money doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want your money, and I won’t pressure you to put me on in this music game. I love being around the music and I’m thankful just to be able to come to the studio and watch niggaz work on new songs. I told him that I was happy for him and will never hate or be jealous of him because of what he has that I don’t have. Rufus is a very down to earth artist and I hope our friendship can grow stronger and more personal and musically as well. Whether he knows it or not, I admire him for jumping from Youngstown, Ohio down to Atlanta, back up to New York and actually made it somewhere in this music maze. He’s already done what I’ve set out to do by leaving Warren, Ohio to be here in New York. I also, just as I always have, admire his talent. I’m not religious so I can’t say that it was divine intervention that I bumped into him and I think he’s a good friend to have. He’ s currently being faithful to his girlfriend of three years, Aiesha, not to say he ever cheated on her because I don’t know that. They just had a daughter, and Aiesha is still bangin’ as far as looks and body go. He believes in God and just wants a happy life with is family and music. Through my wishes, may he be blessed with all he’s been working for all these years and more because I want every black man to succeed in whatever it is he wants to succeed in, and I would hope that every black man would want the same for me.

HAVE YOU EVER HAD A FRIEND OR ASSOCIATE THAT MADE IT INTO SHOW BIZ?