Monday, August 31, 2009

Day 242 (Mint Cookies And Cream)

What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. - T.S. Eliot

So this is it.

August in Virginia ended the same way it came in: raining.

31 days later; I'm 31 days older, 31 days wiser, and 31 days have been added to my personal journal (which I share with you, my dear readers).

I went through some problems this month; some serious, others hilarious (remember my tweets about being vain?)

And I documented it all. I even took pictures.

Today started off bad. I didn't want to get up for work. When I did get up, the vehicle's battery decided that it quit me and my brother. What fun. I was late for work. My boss decided that she's better than everyone else, so she can say what she wants. I used my wit and sarcasm to shut her up.

But then...

At 7:07 PM, I received a text that made me smile from here to San Diego. And now, I'm here, writing.

I'm extremely grateful for each and every one of my readers. I'm taking the time out to thank you guys, for if it wasn't for you, there wouldn't be a reason to post this online.

What's in my future? Well, I don't know. That's the exciting part about it. I will probably do one, maybe two more Post-Everyday-For-A-Month blocks. I've got a couple of backlogs that I need to get out.

Don't think of this as the end. Think of this... as the beginning. Like how you need vanilla and mint and cookies to start making Mint Cookies and Cream ice cream; I need to live, write and for you to read to make Blogs Of The Invisible Soul.

This is only the beginning. I promise, there's some exciting stuff coming down the pipeline for me.

And I can't want to share it with each and every one of you.

As an old friend of mine wrote in my yearbook from high school: Laugh often, Love fearlessly, and Live in the moment.

*P.S. Hey, Serendipity. I love you.

Now playing: Ledisi - Turn Me Loose
via FoxyTunes

Sunday, August 30, 2009

Day 241 (Chocolate Trilogy)

Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love. - Neil Gaiman

I miss her something fierce.

My emotions are really sharp at this moment in time. I'm putting this down tonight as a time stamp on how I feel; not to say that it will change tomorrow, but as a reminder of how people get inside of your skin (in a good way) and how you don't want them to move out of it.

This is the end of my chocolate series, and the second to last post of my 31 flavors. I've been personal the past 30 days, and I'm about to get as personal as one can get on a blog.

She permeates my soul. She digs into the inner most recesses of my heart and pulls out feelings I thought I locked away for good.

Her smell invades my nostrils. I can still smell her, even though I haven't been around her. Every time I close my eyes, I see the very last time I saw her, and the half smile she gave me as she exited the vehicle. I still feel her hand on mine, feel the smoothness of her skin. I still hear her laughter and the hush tones we spoke in at dinner. I still taste the last words we spoke, how I think too much; the bittersweet taste of how she's right, and how I can't help it.

She plunders my every waking moment, and pilfers my every sleeping dream. Some (her included) would say that I'm in too deep, I need to fall back, I need to relax and let things happen naturally.

While I do agree with letting things happen naturally (and that's something I'm Dante Smith working on), I can't just fall back.

I'm in too deep, I'm drowning in love, and for the first time in my life... I welcome the sweet afterlife that'll come after I drown. Please, don't revive me.

Love is SO exhausting... yet so exhilarating and exciting. I'm addicted to her. (And she wouldn't have it any other way.) The thought that crosses my mind often, and what gets me so introspective is: What if she's just not where I am? This has happened to me before, where I've jumped ahead of the other person. What if I'm just crazy as hell and I fell for her too quickly?

Then I get the text that lets me know that I'm crazy, but not that crazy. She loves me too.

We're just moving at our own pace. And so, I look into the mirror every morning and remind myself that I need to give Love time.

I don't know if I really miss her or I miss the feeling of knowing that someone loves me just as much (or maybe more) as I love them. Either way, I know that I miss her.

I miss her something fierce. And I wonder if she's misses me too.

(And Serendipity, I already know you're gonna send me a text or call me and cuss me out. It's ok, by all means, please do. Yes, it's mushy as hell, but it's my feelings at the moment, and I do miss the hell out of you. You know I think way too much. *wink*)

Now playing: Röyksopp - Miss It So Much
via FoxyTunes

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Day 240 (Pineapple Sherbet)

Life is really simple, but we insist on making it complicated. - Confucius

So, I'm gonna make this really simple:

I'm letting it all go.

Every last bit of it. All the so-called "problems". I'm simplifying my life.

There are too many molehills that I'm turning into mountains. It's not really that serious.

I realized tonight that I'm beating myself into the ground and I need to treat myself a lot better.

I'm moving forward.

Now playing: Flying Lotus - Slow It Down
via FoxyTunes

Friday, August 28, 2009

Day 239 (Raspberry Sherbet)

The formula for achieving a successful relationship is simple: you should treat all disasters as if they were trivialities but never treat a triviality as if it were a disaster. - Quentin Crisp

OK, so let me start by giving you, my dear readers, a warning: Tonight's blog will be harsh. It will be full of vulgarities and truth. If you can't handle it, please, stop reading now.

You're still here?

Then let's dig in.

This is for the sorry ass men out there who treat their women like shit and release them back out into the wild for men like me to fix.

I'm tired of cleaning up your shit. MEN who are like me is tired as well.

You bastards won't treat your woman right, you disrespect her, you call her out her name and smack her around like her head was a tether ball, cheat on her, bring home diseases, and then decide that she's not good enough for you (or get tired of having sex with her), and leave her out on the corner.

On the outside, she's a strong woman. Very well put together. Hard worker. Then she meets me. And in the beginning she likes me. I show her attention, I call when I say I will, I'm gainfully employed, and I show all the qualities that she's looking for in a potential life mate.

The problem comes in when she feels like everything that I'm doing is too good to be true.

I tell her she's beautiful every day. She thinks I'm full of shit or hiding something. That's because your stupid ass never appreciated what you had.

I tell her that I believe that she can do whatever she puts her mind to and that I will always have her back no matter what. She thinks I'm just saying that so I can get her in bed. That's because your no expectation having ass don't expect nothing from your illiterate self, so you don't expect her to do better.

I call when I say I will. She thinks I'm out cheating. That's because you NEVER called. Well, you did, but only when you wanted to come through and smash with that disease infected limp noodle you got.

I give her money when she needs it. She thinks that I'm paying her for sex. That's because your broke ass never had no money, so you exchanged sex for money. (And let's get the record straight, it's OK to give YOUR woman money. If she's your woman, and you're supposed to be a team, why would you NOT help your team out? Only broke dudes swear every woman is out to stick them for that measly ass $50 she needs.)

I don't have a problem with a woman with kids. She thinks it's because I got 6 or 7 kids I don't take care of. That's because... YOU got 6 or 7 kids by 6 or 7 different women and you don't take care of the ones you DO have.

I don't argue loudly or raise my hand to her. She thinks no matter what I say, I will one day. That's because you beat her like a bass drum and then have the audacity to bring your pussy ass back to her with that sorry, half-assed apology. And can them crocodile tears, you couldn't act your way out of a wet paper bag.

I never once say anything disrespectful like her hair is messed up or she needs to get her nails done or that she's getting fat. She thinks that I don't care how she looks overall. That's because you were always on her about keeping her appearance up, but then again, your broke ass NEVER go get a haircut, clip your dirty ass nails, and you don't mind being 5'6" 375 pounds, but she better not EVER say anything about your weight because it hurts your feelings. Fucking asshole.

This is just a small example of the shit I have to clean up. I have to endure getting called too intense, too mushy, too clingy, or whatever is the term for the day because to you, EVERY woman is a ho, and you could never marry a ho, at least that's what the streets said. You think every girl you date has to look like Rosa Acosta or Halle Berry, but then, you don't look like Morris Chestnut or Denzel Washington. There is nothing wrong with wanting to date a dime, but understand that you need to treasure the woman you DO have. Stop trying to upgrade your woman and upgrade yourself, you uneducated, no dream having, dumb fuck.

I get sick and tired of dating a woman who is just fine the way that she is, that can do whatever she puts her mind to, and as soon as I say that she's lovely, I get the third degree because she thinks I'm you.

Fuck you, you rat faced bastard, I'm not you, and you're right, I could never be you.

I'll never let myself slip that damn low or be a failure like you.

Women, listen up. You are beautiful just the way you are. We ALL have issues, every last one of us. Embrace your flaws, and trust me, someone out there will do the same. You just have to stop settling for these wack ass, don't-do-right LITTLE BOYS who couldn't take care of home with $100 million dollars and an instructional video showing them step by step how to make sure your woman is happy enter your life. These dudes is backwards, they don't understand that if they make YOU happy, you will do whatever is in your power to make your man happy.

I would say that these are life lessons, but some dudes have never lived, so they've never learned these lessons.

Dude. You're lame. It's not a game so I can't tell you to step your game up. These are REAL women with REAL feelings. But what I can tell you is to get your shit straight.

But I don't even know why I wrote this. You won't read this. You can't read. Simple ass nigga.

Now playing: Dj Rasta Root - Classic Example : The Rest of Dilla Vol. 1 Mixed by: Dj Rasta Root
via FoxyTunes

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Day 238 (Maple Nut)

No matter how far you have gone on the wrong road, turn back - Turkish Proverb

So, the post idea I had for tonight about envy has to wait. Don't worry, it's already written, but it just needs to hold off until I can edit it properly.

I need to get this off my chest, and fast.

I am lost down the wrong pathway in a maple forest. All of the trees look the same, and I'm starting to panic.

It's like drowning, the more you panic, the more water you take on until it just happens.

I made a HUGE mistake, and I'm starting to panic that I may have messed up something that not even *I* can fix (but I don't know if it's something that can just be "fixed", it could be my own insecurities that's making me panic). Everybody comes to me when they need something, but I need me and me isn't helping I.

That's scary.

It always seems like I take one step forward and two steps back. Everything starts to look familiar, like I've been here before and I can't really find my way out.

My will, however, will not let me give up.

I think that maybe if I use my two steps back as actual steps forward, I can find my way out of this with EVERYTHING intact.

This forest will change me. It will even damage me. But it will not defeat me. I will not give up, I will not back down.

I will not lose.

Now playing: Jill Scott featuring 4Hero - Gotta Get Up (Another Day)
via FoxyTunes

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Day 237 (Fudge Brownie)

All men dream: but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act their dreams with open eyes, to make it possible. - T. E. Lawrence

Me: I think for me, it's not about being a author. It's about being heard. That's why my blog is named the way it is.

Her: That's deep. If nothing else, we have that in common.

Me: Yeah, we do... why do we have SO much in common?

Her: I dunno. Most people would go with the cliche' that "Maybe it's just meant to be"

Me: NO. It's deeper than that.

Her: *rolls eyes*

Me: Why are you rolling your eyes? It is. I believe that. I do. It HAS to be something deeper than just "it's meant to be". That's a cop out.

Her: Why does it have to be deeper than that? You don't think there are MILLIONS of others in the world, male and female respectively, who like the SAME things that we like?

Me: Yes, I do believe that. At the same time, come on. How many people find out they like the same things... like 90% of the same things? That's uncanny.

Her: Are you serious... MANY people like a LOT of the same things. Just means they have good taste. JUST now I am proving my point. I picked a random friend of mine to ask him does he like certain things. ALL of those things are things YOU and ME like... he likes them does that mean me and him are meant to be??? NO.

Me: No, it doesn't. You're right. I don't have a counterpoint.

This was a conversation that me and Serendipity were having the other morning. What's bad is, I actually had a counterpoint. But I just didn't have the words to say it. It took me 7 days of thinking about it to actually say what I was supposed to say that morning. (Well, isn't this familiar? At least this time, I only wait 7 days instead of multiple years... go figure.)

Serendipity and I have a lot in common... from food to recreation to hobbies. I was saying to her that I found it uncanny that a person that I met when I was younger could be this... parallel to me later in life.

What I DIDN'T say, however, and what I should've said, is that in addition to us having that much in common, we have a magnetism towards each other. It's there: I feel it, she feels it. No matter how far apart we seem to be, we end up right back in each others face. That's undeniable.

Somewhere, deep in my heart, I feel like that magnetism is what is our major draw and why no matter what we go through (marriage, other relationships, years apart, etc.) we pick up RIGHT where we left off before. She's special to me, more special than anyone I've ever encountered.

We've been texting back and forth all day today; sending messages of laughter and love, and just enjoying each other. I haven't had that in almost 8 years. I was looking forward to my phone buzzing with a new text or chiming with a new email. My goodness, she just brings the biggest smile to my face whenever I think about her. I hadn't stopped smiling since 9 AM when I got her good morning text. My face hurts.

There was a moment (more like a couple of days) that I was scared of losing her. But she let me know today that even with what we have gone through, I am still dear to her and that she loves me.

That just really put a smile in my heart.

It's not a relationship thing with us; what we have cannot be defined by such simple terms. I don't even think I want to box us in by trying to pursue and label what we are; I'm comfortable with us just BEING. Of course, she might feel different, but... we're too cool for titles. We just ARE.

I guess all I'm trying to say is that I love her.

Mainly, I love her because I see myself in her. She understands me more than anyone else I know that isn't close family. She believes IN me, and that means so much to me. I want to take her all in, inhale who she is, or who she'll become, and get lost in it. I love her enough to embrace who she is, whether in a relationship or not. I even thought about changing the name of my blog.

Because in her eyes, I am no longer invisible. She hears me. She listens to my heart.

I love her enough to know I couldn't possibly love anyone else this much (that isn't my child). Not now, not ever.

So, if you're reading this, Serendipity, know that someone out here loves you to death. And that person is me.

No matter what we go through, I will always be there for you, just like you have always been there for me.

Love always, Mr. You Know Who.

P.S. Serendipity is the name of The Muse in Kevin Smith's Dogma. So yes, I am talking about my muse. And no, you STILL won't figure out who she is, unless she directs me to say as much. I love you too, dear readers. *wink*

Now playing: Jay Dee - So Far So Good (featuring Common & D'Angelo)
via FoxyTunes

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

Day 236 (Pralines and Cream)

New opinions are always suspected, and usually opposed, without any other reason but because they are not already common. - John Locke

Tonight is a quickie.

I asked a stripper today why a lapdance was worth $10, but her opinions were worth only 2 cents and her thoughts only half of that.

She couldn't answer.

Tonight, my dear readers, I ask you to dig deep and find out exactly what YOU think your thoughts and actions are worth.

Eat some Pralines and Cream. Enjoy yourself. And make sure people are paying what you truly believe you are worth.

Now playing: Kanye West Feat. Nas - We Major
via FoxyTunes

Monday, August 24, 2009

Day 235 (Egg Nog)

This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning. - Winston Churchill

Ex Girl

I wanted to title this next girl
But this is really about my ex girl
Who lead me to my next girl
Well, welcome to my world
Where the women are wonderful
But only in the beginning
I start with two strikes down in the 9th inning
We sat in her house that night, passion at a steady pace
Too busy not watching movies, not busy enough sucking face
She's getting hot, her breath is getting heavy
I got her engine running, she's purring pretty steady
And I haven't even pet the kitten, yet it's meowing
Hands on her bra strap, seeing what she's allowing
Time to stop idling, put my foot on the gas
I wonder what she'll say if I put my hand on her ass
She doesn't stop me, no red light here.
She gets the laser pointer, "Hey, kiss me right here"
I happily oblige, I'm about to do my duty
Hands live south, touching on more than her booty
Scratch that, those are just thoughts
What really happened is she got caught
With her pants down in what I thought was her house
While I getting her naked on what I thought was her couch
But it's really her husband's, the one that didn't exist
Until 20 seconds ago, now I'm getting pissed
He's pointing at me, as if I started the tryst
I calmly explain to him what was sure to be the twist
It's not like I knew where y'all lived beforehand
And stop acting as if you have a backup plan
Because what happens seems to come full circle, right
You think I'm brand new, I met you on a different night
About 8 years ago, when I came to my then woman's palace
And she was screaming 'eat me' as if you were Alice
And she was the cake, but I crashed the mad tea
Party as if I belonged there, see we
Were supposed to be together now, wanted to have a kid
Deep into life, and now you're about to blow your lid
Top, brain out, shoot off at the mouth about
How powerful you are, and how you got some clout
Now you throw a tantrum, ready to scream and shout
No need for all that bro, guess what, I'm out
Walked outside, got to my mode of transportation
Sped down the street, very little hesitation
Got to thinking a bit about myself and with some trepidation
Realized that I knew what was my next destination....

And that's all I got... © André 3000

(I wish I didn't have to note this... but NOTE: Fictional. Thanks.)

Now playing: André 3000 - A Life in the Day of Benjamin André (Incomplete)
via FoxyTunes

Sunday, August 23, 2009

Day 234 (Mississippi Mud)

We climb to heaven most often on the ruins of our cherished plans, finding our failures were successes. - Amos Bronson Alcott

Do you take things at face value, or become bold enough to face the truth?

Sometimes just taking things at face value is cool. I mean, you get what you see, right? Damn, shorty is fly. Face value. Man, that dude is so cool. Face value. That car is nice. Face value.

But looking deeper can make you find the truth, and really, who doesn't want the truth? Damn, shorty is fly, but she's stuck up at times, like 24/7/365. Truth. Man, dude is so cool, but he beats on his women like they had Everlast tattooed on their forehead. Truth. That car is nice, but the damn transmission is shot to hell like them boys on A Time To Kill. Truth.

As a complex person, sometimes I cannot decide between taking face value, and finding out the truth. Truth hurts. A lot. And the truth is necessary in order for people to get by on the best of their abilities. I try to get by on my own abilities...but something seems to be blocking my progress, like myself.

Face value of myself is a cool dude, who loves his son more than anything, loves Nia Long *wink*, loves his family, loves writing, loves music, loves living life, loves his friends, etc...

But when I look in the mirror, truth is, I can't seem to get it together. Every time something goes right, something goes wrong, twice. However, I haven't learned to give up, and that is my greatest strength. I draw inspiration from those I know that have had grim times and haven't given up. It's just...

I want that... feeling. You know, that feeling you get when you do everything right, or when everything goes your way.... I've had enough of things going the wrong way.... but without that, how would I know when things go the right way?

It's just a bit of Mississippi Mud getting slung around tonight, it's no biggie. I can handle what comes my way, I'm MORE than strong enough to. I just needed to vent. I will use my failures to build a ladder to my success.

Well, it's bed time, I'm up too late. Work tomorrow. Come close, stay forever. I promise you won't be disappointed.

Now playing: Little Brother - Dreams
via FoxyTunes

Saturday, August 22, 2009

Day 233 (Pistachio Almond)

A decision is the action a person must take when he has information so incomplete that the answer does not suggest itself. - Arthur William Radford

It's been 6 months since that night.

I'm on the couch holding her, watching the Real Housewives Of Atlanta. I don't know any of their names, all I know is that she wanted to watch it.

She being Ebony.

My soon to be ex-wife doesn't know that I'm here in North Carolina. It's better that way. After that night, me and Ebony began talking even more, she was driving up so we could have lunch dates and go out to dinner. At first, we were inviting Nicole, but then we started phasing her out once things got sour between me and Nicole. I started taking late lunches, "staying late" after work, but it was all to see Ebony.

Right now I'm supposed to be out of town on a business trip.

Ebony is laying on me, holding my left hand. She's twirling my wedding band around my finger.

"So, what's on your agenda when you get back home?"

"Well, I have to go back to work, I know that. I'm really enjoying my time with you, Eb."

She sighs. "So am I, Shawn, and that's part of the problem."


"I want you all to myself," she muses. "I don't want to share you with Nicole anymore. Funny, I finally found a man who I respect and like, and he's married."

I kiss the top of her head. "Well, you got me now, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, but is it bad that I want it all the time?"

I chuckle. "No, it's not bad at all. You think I don't feel the same way? Hell, I took a week vacation and flew out here to see you. I even got a hotel room and told the receptionist to hold all my messages at the desk, I'll pick them up later. Come on, you gotta admit, that's crafty."

She laughs. "Yeah, it's crafty. Can I ask you something? You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Sure, ask away."

"Do you think that, even now, there's ever a possibility that you could work things out with Nicole?"

I sigh. "Honestly, I would like to know for my own peace of mind. If it's over between us, there's no need for us to keep going on like this. If we can work it out, then she needs to step up and let me know what we are going to do. I can't keep asking her about us, about our marriage..."

"I guess she's doing the whole Ostrich thing. If you can't see it..."

" isn't there. Yeah, I don't know. But... we don't need to go there."


"I don't need that, Ebony. Not tonight."

She shifts again. She's still holding my hand, still playing with my wedding band. "But you two still have an opportunity to work things out. And it would be nice to see people that I care about get what they deserve."

I scoff. "She doesn't know what she deserves. I do, that's why I'm here with you."

"What makes you say that?"

"If she did, she would stop acting like she's crazy and just admit what she knows that I know that she knows: that we need to work it out or she's gonna lose me."

She sighs. "I know that feeling all too well."

"What do you mean by that, Eb?"

"I know how it feels to know something that everyone else knows except the person that needs to know it. I've driven down that road... I got off of it."

I rub Ebony's arms. "But, what if what you think that everyone else is supposed to know is not what everyone else thinks?"

"What do you mean, Shawn?"

"Maybe we aren't supposed to be together, Ebony. I mean, good friends, even being best friends is great, but what if that's supposed to be it? What if we're trying to be Pistachio and Almonds; two nuts that think they go together, but only in certain situations?"

I expected her to get off me at that moment and start cussing me out. She doesn't move, doesn't flinch.

"You know, what-if's have ruined many a people."


"Shawn, why do you constantly think in what-ifs? Especially since the reverse can be just as true: What if we DO belong together? What if our whole lives, we've been building towards us being together?"

I shake my head. "If that was the case, that night wouldn't have happened the way that it did. It would've went down better."

"Do you think maybe it happened that way to see if we could survive it? Just think, if we can move forward from that, what else can stop us, besides us? I'm not going to run this topic in the ground... but just know that the decision is all yours."

I hold her tighter. My mind starts racing, thinking about the life I had with Nicole, how I would've waited for her, how I would've done anything in the world for her. Then I start thinking about the woman in my arms. She's almost everything I've ever wanted out of a woman. What is really holding me back? Why can I not make up my mind? Should I got back to what's familiar and comfortable or should I try something new and exciting, something that I know will make me happy in the end?

Decisions, decisions.

Now playing: Duffy - Hanging On Too Long
via FoxyTunes

Friday, August 21, 2009

Day 232 (Black Walnut)

After silence, that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music. - Aldous Huxley

It is the most deafening sound there is.
I can't hear you. I can see you mouth the words to me.
I can't hear you. My heart was beating in my ears a second ago.
I can't hear you. The tears are streaming down your face.
You scream at me. You hit me. I stand there.
Emotions are gone. There's a stranger in my house.
And it's me.
I've changed.
I can't hear you. I asked about your friend.
I can't hear you. I asked about us.
I can't hear you. I asked about me.
When did I change? What was it back then?
Was it when? Maybe then? Or how about?
I... I can't hear you. You shake your head.
I... I can't hear you. You point at the door.
I... I can't hear you. You start to walk away.
Please, don't leave.
Please, don't go.
Stay awhile. Let me know the truth.
I told you I was Paranoid.
It's scary, my brain makes me see things that my heart knows isn't true.
I daydream of you. I have nightmares of you.
Tell me. Tell me that you love me. PLEASE?

Now playing: Portishead - Silence
via FoxyTunes

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Day 231 (Chocolate Fudge)

No love, no friendship can cross the path of our destiny without leaving some mark on it forever. - François Mauriac

You're asking me to leave someone.
Someone close to me.
Someone who's been there, good or bad.
I... want to leave them all behind.
Just want to race to the sun, me and you.
Not the paranoid me, not the leaving you.
I mean the REAL me and the REAL you.
It's said that when you love someone dearly, that TWO becomes ONE.
So, I'm not entirely killing myself, just erasing all the bad.
Making way for the good that's coming from you.
Can we work it out? Can we be together?
If I tell you I love you, can I keep you forever?
If I go to sleep now, will you be here in the morning?
No more what-ifs, no more "I'll change."
Actions speak louder than words.
So let me show you. You deserve it.
You deserve to be happy.
I have an opportunity to make you happy.
Can I have my chance to give you what you deserve?
It's you. It's always been you. I'll erase HIM if I can have YOU.
2 will become 1. Let's race to the sun.

Now playing: N*E*R*D - Run To The Sun
via FoxyTunes

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

Day 230 (Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough)

It's beauty that captures your attention; personality which captures your heart. - Anonymous

I normally don't do social commentary.

Let me clarify what I just typed. I don't want to be one of "those" blogs; you know, the ones who regurgitate everything that's already posted somewhere else. I don't want to be labeled as whatever (hater, lame, shock blogger, etc.) because I have a different view on things going on in the socialite world; personally, I don't think any of my readers is THAT interested on how I feel about Tiny and Toya (I don't feel anything about Tiny and Toya).

But today... today, I have to make a statement, only because it hits home for me.

This is Amber Rose. Say hi.

Ok, now that the formal introductions have been done, let me discuss the problem.

Today, there were pictures of Amber and her boy/friend KanYe West in Miami. She was wearing a bikini... if you can call it that. If you're interested enough, you can look it up, I'm not posting those pictures of her; they don't have much to do with what I'm talking about.

What does interest me is some of the talk that I heard today.

"She's ugly."

"Why would you want to be with someone who looks like that?"

"Man, my girl needs to look like that; my girl is too big."

"Now THAT'S thick, (insert woman bigger than Amber) is just fat."

Mind you, these are all REAL comments made to me or around me today. I heard and read arguments from both sides. The Team Amber side and The Team Anti-Amber side.

Here's my thought's on Amber before I continue (simply because I won't talk about her again in this post): I think she is a beautiful woman. She's not my type, but that does not take away from the fact that she is very pretty. I'm just not attracted to her.

With that being said, I think that people take their own opinions as fact for everybody, when in all honesty, those are your opinions and your opinions ONLY. I think that my woman is the most beautiful woman in the world. I do. (Well, wait, um, she's not my woman, she's not even... look, I just think that she's AMAZINGLY beautiful...) She doesn't fit into Hollywood's "standards"; thin, tall, makeup on all the time, etc. But she fits into mine. Now, there's nothing wrong with you disagreeing with me just not in my face, I've fought people for less; that's your opinion. However, don't try to get your friends and homies to jump in with you in saying that she's not attractive because they can get they meat lumped too because of what you think about her not having a body like Amber's (OK, last mention, I swear). It's just an opinion.

I personally don't think Halle Berry is all that. I said it. And I meant it. She's pretty, don't get me wrong, but she doesn't attract me. At all. If we were to pass in the street, I wouldn't turn my head; my eyes would follow as she walked out of my peripheral vision, but that's about it. (You can try to call me out on that if you like, but fair warning, I don't play fair.)

I don't dig skinny chicks.

And people confuse that with hating.

I can call a slim woman cute. I can say "She's got a nice appeal about her". But at the end of the day, I like my women to have meat on their bones. Now, I know that people are out there saying "But O, beauty fades with time". Who says? Some tired ass cliché? No, beauty, like time, like love, like perception, is relative. It only matters to YOU.

The type of woman that attracts me isn't 5'8" 130. Hell, if she's 130, she better be 4'10". But this is all initial attraction, I'm not going to delve into how personality comes into play when finding a life partner (that's another post).

Initial attraction. Initial reaction. Even the Venus Fly Trap looks nice initially to a fly.

What I want and need is women who are confident in themselves. Listen, if you're a big girl, trust me when I say, there is nothing wrong with that. I love it, personally. Sure, you're gonna have your men and women who'll have OPINIONS about how you should look, but what matters is how you look to you and the person who finds you attractive. That's it. (And really, it doesn't even matter how the person who finds you attractive thinks.) There is a set of men and women who find being over a size 6 attractive. (And for the record; Sherri Shepard, you are NOT a size 6. If you're a 6, so am I. Be real with yourself.) I am one of them. Not to say that women who are size 6 and under aren't sexy or pretty or cute or attractive to anyone else, but it's JUST NOT MY CUP OF TEA. That's my opinion. It doesn't mean, however, that I can't give them their props. This is why I have a big problem with Mo'nique. Not her size, no. But her having to tear down women that are smaller than her to build up herself and others? That's not cool, at all.

Those weren't jokes she was spitting, that was real life coming out of her.

I'm dark. Chocolate, as I've been called before. Do I have hurtful things to say about light-skinned people? No, I do not. Why should I tear down what someone else thinks is beautiful to build myself up?

That's my long-winded point. Men don't do this as often, but women? Women will tear each other DOWN to build themselves up, and it hurts me to see that. It's a turn off; seeing a cute woman hate and lambaste on another woman because she doesn't look like her. So what? You're not perfect either, and to be honest, anybody who's looking for perfect should kill themselves now. You'll never find it. I'm looking for imperfection. I like women who are bigger than normal (whatever the hell normal is), with dimples, short hair, cute smiles (even a cute gap); I'm looking for a woman who not only knows her flaws, but EMBRACES them.

No plastic surgery. No heavy makeup. No ass pads and body suits and fake eyelashes.

Just realness.

You don't have to be cooked to perfection. Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough tastes great. To ME. That's my opinion.

There's probably a person who thinks it's nasty. That's your opinion.

But that's all it is. Opinion. Not fact.

Stop tearing people down. What's ugly to you isn't ugly to me, so stop including me in YOUR opinions. Trust me, that "ugly" person has someone who you think is drop dead gorgeous all in their grill because they think that person is attractive.

Show me a person who thinks Nia Long is attractive, and I'll show you 3 people who are turned off by her. Not everybody has to look like whatever model you can think of. If everybody in the world was Quarterbacks, who would catch the ball?

Perception folks. It's all about perception.

P.S. Except for the woman I spoke of earlier. Oh, she IS the personification of beautiful. And that's not opinion, that's FACT. If you disagree, take it up with me and these two knuckle sandwich vendors I got. (Jokes, people. Jokes. The knuckle sandwich vendors part, not the fact part; if I could show her to you, you would think she's beautiful too. I SAID you would think she's beautiful too. Nod your head. Good.)

Now playing: Outkast - SpottieOttieDopaliscious
via FoxyTunes

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Day 229 (Cherries Jubilee)

When you sell a man a book, you don't sell him 12 ounces of paper and ink and glue - you sell him a whole new life. - Christopher Morley

Today, I decided to blog my whole day in pictures. Enjoy.

Couple of things to note:

Outside of the Twitter icon, The Smoking Section pics, the keyboard pics, the remain calm pic, the XKCD comic, the Blogspot icon, and Homer sleeping, those are real pics I took. Yes, I do eat Wheat Thins. My lunch was quite delicious, thank you. Would've taken a picture for breakfast, but I didn't have one. Would've taken a picture for dinner, but I haven't eaten (yet). The XKCD comic is... well, you decide on what it is. And yes, I do visit TSS often, almost as much as I Twitter. There's a couple of other sites that I visit, but I didn't today. This is exactly what I did today, along with clean out my email because I had a lot of stuff in there, both work related AND personal (*wink*) and I also had an interesting convo with Miss Amazing on Facebook and by text.

Finally, I did write some more this evening for another project that I'm doing (my book) and I brainstormed some ideas.


Did you think I was gonna take pictures or screenshots of those?

Well, I'm sorry, dear reader, but life isn't a bowl of Cherries Jubilee ice cream.

Have a good evening.

Now playing: Outkast - Chronomentrophobia
via FoxyTunes

Monday, August 17, 2009

Day 228 (Butter Pecan)

It is not enough to conquer; one must also know how to seduce. - Voltaire

Method Man was right.

There really is a skin color that's Butter Pecan. Except she's not Puerto Rican. She's just colored that way. I initially thought her skin was caramel.

I rub her arms. Her back is to me. She snuggles closer, her naked body pressed against mine. She purrs ever so softly. I am holding Ebony.

Two hands rub my back and neck.

It's my wife, Nicole.

This is the aftermath afterglow.

I kiss Ebony on the nape of her neck and roll over. My wife has her eyes closed, but she has a grin on her face. Ebony is snoring softly.

"Did you enjoy us?"

"Did I? Did you feel me? This was... incredible. Wow. My mind is still blown by this. What did I do to deserve this?"

Nicole smiles at me. "You were just you. I have to keep it fresh in the bedroom, otherwise, I might lose you to another woman."

I fake frown. "Another woman? Unless it's Kerry Washington, I'm not going nowhere."

She giggles. I place my face in her neck. "So, how many times did you and Ebony do this beforehand?"

She pushes away from me. "Say what?"

I ask again. She frowns. "No, Shawn, this was a one time deal between me and Ebony. We did this for you, I did this for you. I'm not into women."

Still being playful, I answer "It certainly didn't seem like it, the way you were kissing and touching her. I think you two got each other off more than you did me."

Nicole shifts out of my hold and stands up. "I don't appreciate you coming at me like this, Shawn. After all, this is what you wanted, right? This was your wish, your DREAM. And now, you have it. But did you ever consider how it might make ME feel? I didn't want to kiss her, I didn't want to touch her, and I damn sure didn't want her to touch me!"

I look back at Ebony, who is still asleep. I pull Nicole into the bathroom and close the door. I sharply whisper, "Hey, first of all, I didn't ASK for this. I told you that it was a fantasy of mine, yes, but you also said that you were MORE than willing to do that for the man you love. Don't start twisting my words."

Hot tears run down Nicole's face. "And did you think about me while you was inside of her? While you were going in and out, pulling her hair, slapping her-"

"HEY." My eyes are wide and my voice is sharp. "I get woken up at 3AM for THIS? I didn't ask you to invite your friend, and I didn't ask you if I could have sex with her, you just bring this woman into our home and expect me to perform. I did. What more are you asking for?"

She slaps me. "I am asking for a little bit of consideration from you and you offer me semantics. I am asking you for a reason why you enjoyed having sex with her more than you did me! I saw your face, Shawn. You were loving every second of it. I should blame myself. As a matter of fact, I do. I just let you cheat on me, in front of me. That's my fault."

I rub the side of my face. "I didn't enjoy having sex with her more than you. I made love to you, I just fucked her!" As soon as those cliched words fell out of my mouth, I knew it was too late.

Nicole's eyes widened and she started hitting me. Punches were landing on my face, my chest, the side of my head, everywhere. I tried to talk her down, but she kept swinging. I managed to grab her right arm, but her lefts were coming too fast. She hit me near my right eye, and my heart starts beating faster. I finally catch her left arm mid swing and I push her against the wall mirror. Realizing that she can no longer punch me, she starts kicking me with her french manicured feet. I'm calling her name out over and over again, but she's in berserk mode, not listening to a word I'm saying. Finally, I had enough of the abuse. I spin her around, her face looking into the mirrored wall. I enter her from behind forcefully. She screams, and at first I was scared; scared that I was hurting her. As I was about to stop, she half screams, half moans. My heat builds in my belly, my passion and anger spilling out of me. I let go of her right arm so she could steady herself against the mirror. I grab a handful of her hair and pull her head back so she can look into my eyes.

"Does. This. Feel. Like. I. Enjoyed. Ebony. More? Hmmm? Look. At. Me. Nicole. Look. LOOK." Every word, my phallus is crashing into her, my body rocking into hers. She opens her eyes and stares into mine. My face is hardened; a twisted visage of what was once before a loving and caring face. She moans harder and places both hands on the mirror. She begins to grind into me, throwing herself against me. I am pushing harder than she is, and her head begins to smack the mirror. I slow down, but keep the pressure up. She begins to tighten her walls, creating a vacuumed pressure inside of her. My body, tired from tonight's events, cannot take any more. I feel the rush of orgasm coming. I slap her ass, let go of her hair and place both hands on her hips. There we are, in the middle of our bathroom, pushing and pulling and moaning and screaming. I feel her gush, and at that exact moment, I also come. Nicole moans and starts to shudder. As I being to separate myself from her, I hear the bathroom door creak.

As we look up at the door, we see Ebony, touching herself, bringing herself to climax. She lets out a hum, long and satisfying. Nicole and I stand there, watching, looking bewildered. I start feeling embarrassed and ashamed that I did this in front of Ebony. Ebony opens her eyes and sees us staring at her. A look of shock befalls her face. She turns away.

I let go of Nicole and walk into the bedroom. Ebony is already putting on her clothes. Nicole is standing behind me.

"Ebony, where are you going, sweetie?"

"Nic, I gotta go. I just- I don't belong here."

I intervene. "Wait, if it's about what happened in there, it's nothing to be ashamed of-"

Ebony holds a hand up. "Let me stop you right there, Shawn. While I am not ashamed of exploring my own body, I am saddened that I have brought all of this into your home." She looks at Nicole. "Maybe I was right after all. Maybe you weren't ready for him and me at the same time."

Ebony leaves the bedroom and goes downstairs. I hear the door close.

Nicole puts on a robe and races downstairs to go after her. I sit on the edge of the bed, wondering did I really go through all of that tonight. As I get deeper into my thoughts, I hear the front door open again and close.


As I look up at my bedroom door, I see Nicole and Ebony standing there.

This is getting to be a bit interesting.

Now playing: Erykah Badu - Kiss Me On My Neck
via FoxyTunes

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Day 227 (French Vanilla)

Spend time every day listening to what your muse is trying to tell you - Saint Bartholomew

I have a muse.

I do. She's always by my side, when she wants to be, when she doesn't want to be, and vice versa.

The definition of muse goes something like this:
the source of an artist's inspiration; a force or person, usually a woman, that inspires a creative artist.

I look and talk to my muse every day. Have been for about 3 months now. Oh, but don't get me wrong. She's been my muse for a decade plus. Whenever I need to get through something, or I get a nasty case of writer's block, talking to her usually clears things up, and I keep moving.

Only once have I ever asked her to directly help me with my writer's block, however. And that one time, she helped inadvertently; she thought I was going one way and I went somewhere different.

I told her today that she was my muse; that I had been drawing inspiration from her strength. I got some news this morning, and while I'm keeping my cards close to my chest, it's some good news. Great news, actually. I shared it with her and her only (initially; I've told my mother since then) and she was very happy for me.

Of course, being MY muse, her initial reaction was a curt "Yeah, right". I smiled at that one, I know how she is.

We have a strange arrangement. Ever since we were kids, we've always been at war with each other, yet it was always that mutual respect and love that we have for each other that keeps us together. One minute we're happy and laughing and enjoying each others company; the next, we're silently mad, arguing, or giving dirty looks.

We're alike in a lot of ways, her and me. In high school, people used to wonder what kind of day would we be having with one another; one day it would be peaceful, the next, a train wreck. But that's what makes us US. I wouldn't change my muse for world; she's the third most valuable person I have in my life, outside of my son and my mom.

Some days, I wonder if she truly knows how I feel about her. I love her; I always have, and I know I always will, long after my body has decayed and turned into ashes. It is our joys, our arguments, or disagreements, our laughter, our happiness, our memories that fuels our love. We argue because I'm a sarcastic asshole who wants nothing more than to get my point across no matter how wrong I am; she's pretty much the same way. Well, she's not an asshole about it, but she can be a bit bi-... well, she's not a b-... yeah, so... no, I'm not calling her that. That'll be another argument. Um.... ok. Moving on.

She has been the source of some of my most memorable joys and the source of some of my most memorable pain. She is what I write about, every day, every time I open the notebook. When I am describing a female in my stories, there is some part of that fictional character that isn't fictional at all, it's her. When I am writing a poem about love, it is my love and respect for her that makes it possible. When I am upset and need to vent about how a female has treated me, it is our arguments that give me the strength to write. When I look towards a better tomorrow, it is her I want to share it with for I know that she is always going to be there.

No need on you trying to guess who she is, my dear readers; I'm quite selfish with this one. It would be like trying to figure out what makes French Vanilla Ice Cream french. No nickname, no crafty hint, nothing will ever make me give away the identity of my muse, unless of course, my muse inspires me to do so. No, I am hers, and she is mine, and together we will either rule our castle benevolently, or destroy it in fashion. Could I imagine a life with her? Sure I could. But I know I could never imagine a life without her. I don't even want to try.

P.S. I know that's the same picture I used for Day 212 (Vanilla). I'm tricky like that.

Now playing: Mayer Hawthorne - A Strange Arrangement
via FoxyTunes

Saturday, August 15, 2009

Day 226 (Icing on the Ice Cream Cake)

Sex: the thing that takes up the least amount of time and causes the most amount of trouble. - John Barrymore

*Note: I know Ice Cream Cake isn't a flavor per se, but just ride with me, ok? It pays off in the end. Thanks. ~She Hate Me

The cell phone buzzes.

I crack my eyes open ever so slightly. It's 3:07 in the morning. Who is sending me a text at 3:07 in the morning?

I roll over to look at my phone, but it's not on the dresser. All of a sudden, I see the light come up on the screen in the dark. My beautiful wife has answered the text. I roll back over, half asleep, half mumbling.

"Who is it?"

I get no response. I settle into the pillow even more. Work at 8AM, so I have to be up at 6. No need to waste this last 3 hours of bliss-

Cold water splashes on my head. I am now wide awake, soaking wet, and looking bewildered.

"What the hell-"

"Do you mind telling me why you got somebody texting this phone talking about 'Where is my big daddy? I need him to come through and give me some of that GOOD loving.'"

I sit up, and shake the excess water off of me. "Wait, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Don't you "What the hell are you talking about?' me! I asked you, who the hell is this?"

I stand up. Water cascades down the front of my boxers. I hold my hand out for the phone. "Let me see the phone, Nicole." She throws the phone at me, and my reflexes are still asleep, so I drop the phone on the floor. I pick it up and read:

Hey, sexy! Where are you? I miss my big daddy, when you coming back to give me some good loving? Call me!

I look at the number. "Nicky, baby, I don't know who's number this is. This isn't for me."

She fires at me. "That's bullshit and you know it. Who else is gonna call you big daddy, huh Shawn? I know how much you like to be called big daddy by me, so why not some other little floozy?"

I'm racking my brain at this moment, trying to figure out who number this is. I've never cheated on my wife, nor have I ever given my number out so some other woman who wasn't dealing with business. "Nicole, honey, this is a 336 number. That's down in NC. I haven't been down there since college. That was 6 years ago."

"Uh huh, but you do deal with people in Charlotte, right? Who says they can't make a trip up here to Virginia Beach, huh?"

"Nicole, you're tripping. Call the number back, ask who she's looking for. I can pretty much guarantee it isn't me."

Nicole sucks her teeth. She hits redial on the phone and places the phone on speaker. "Yeah, we about to see..."

The person on the other end picks up. "Hello?"

"Um, yes, you texted this number looking for Shawn?"

"Shawn? I don't know no Shawn. And I didn't text this number."

"Listen, honey, you just texted this number looking for your missing 'big daddy' and wanted to know when he was coming to give you some good loving."

"Wait, I wasn't supposed to text this number. I was texting a different number. My apologies."

Nicole sucks her teeth again. "Yeah, your apologies alright. Don't text my husband again, tramp."

"OH HELL NO! How you gonna call me a tramp? I said I was sorry for texting your funky ass husband, what more do you want? You Virginia women stay tripping!"

"HEY, you're not gonna talk about MY husband like that! I will come find you and wipe the floor with your skank-"

"You ain't got to come find me, I'll come to YOU!"

"Fine! Come on over to 37521 Kempsville Road, see how much shit you talk when you get here!"

Click. The girl hangs up the phone. By this time, I'm pissed off; I'm also hurt. "So, did you find it necessary to tell this woman where we live? And I TOLD YOU, I don't know that girl! I don't be giving my damn number out!"

"Baby, I'm sorry, I got hot headed-"

"No, Nicole, you just wanted to assume what you always do; that I can't keep it in my pants for you. I'm TIRED of you always accusing me of cheating. This is the second time this week! What do I have to do, attach a GPS to my damn belt? This is getting ridiculous. I- I can't take anymore." I start to walk towards the bathroom so I can dry off, mumbling all the way. "Got me soak and wet at 3AM in the damn morning. The hell she doing answering my phone anyway? I don't go through her shit. She must be out her rabid ass mind to think I'm gonna keep putting up-"

The door beats like a bass drum. I rush out the bathroom. "Nicole you KEEP your ass up here, do you hear me?" She nods her head.

I fly downstairs; no shirt, just some boxers on. I open the door to see a woman standing there. I can't shake the feeling I've met her before. She's wearing a black cocktail dress with a slit up the side and heels. She's caramel colored, about 5'3", very well put together young woman.

She's instantly taken back by my looks. "Um, damn. Wow. I'm sorry. Um, is your wife here?"

"Listen, it's all been a big misunde-"

Nicole comes down the stairs. "Let her in Shawn."

I turn around. "I thought I told you to stay upstai- What the hell do you have on?"

My wife is standing in some black heels and a black négligée. She walks over to the woman and kisses her on the cheek. I'm floored. My mind is doing backflips, my heart is beating way too fast, and my loins are getting excited.

"Shawn this is my friend from North Carolina, Ebony. You met her before, remember?" It starts coming back to me.

"That party we had here last year?!?"

Nicole smiles at me. "Remember I told you before we got married that one of my fantasies was to be with a friend of mine and my husband?" I nod my head excitedly. "Well, she's my friend, you're my husband, you already have your cake, and I think it's time for you to eat it as well."

I'm still standing in shock. "And her?"

Ebony closes the door and grabs my member. "I'm the icing on top."

Looks like I won't be going to work after all.

Now playing: Usher - Can U Handle It?
via FoxyTunes

Friday, August 14, 2009

Day 225 (Lemon Custard)

Every man is afraid of something. That's how you know he's in love with you; when he is afraid of losing you. - Anonymous.

Just one sentence tonight. But it means a whole lot.

My heart is your piñata. How bittersweet of me was it to be the one that gave you the bat to break it...

Bittersweet. Like Lemon Custard.

Now playing: The Verve - Bittersweet Symphony
via FoxyTunes

Just Venting...

My mind is racing, I'm a little upset now.
I let you get me out my zone and I don't know how.
You actually have the audacity and gall-
Wait, let me start over before I stall.
See, I got enough problems I have to deal with
And I don't need an addition, especially not your bull$#!%
I look up, look back, but never straight ahead.
Call it a defect, irrationality, or a case of bed head.
Ugh, I got a bad head, bad thoughts, bad dreams.
You can call them nightmares, displayed on movie screens.
No need for teen screams, or adult for that matter.
Super run of bad luck, which mirror did I shatter?
The one I was looking into, trying to change that man.
But that man said he's staying, forget leaving, he has a plan.
But he never lets me in, so my thoughts are all hazy.
Now I got my friends swearing up and down that I'm crazy.
Because my 28 years of me being on this planet
Let me know nothing turns out exactly how you plan it.
So, my mistakes and things I did wrong I take and own.
And my gun just told me it'll never leave my heart alone.
So now I gotta start leaving my heart at home,
I have no permit for that concealed chrome.
The gun said that I left my heart unguarded,
And I'm trying to figure out when that started.
Because I never had ownership of my heart
It was some time ago me and it decided to part.
But how am I living? Am I still alive?
Or is this all a dream, of which the only thing I strive,
Is to wake up, because this dream is over.
Look at myself in the mirror and say 'I told ya.'
But now the question is am I looking into the mirror?
Or is the mirror looking into me a little bit clearer?

*said to myself while looking into... yeah*

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Day 224 (Peach)

When childhood dies, its corpses are called adults and they enter society, one of the more polite names of hell. That is why we dread children, even if we love them, they show us the state of our decay. - Brian W. Aldiss

I miss my childhood.

I miss playing kickball. I miss gathering all the neighborhood kids for a game of baseball in the Spring, basketball in the Summer, football in the Fall and Winter. I miss Sideline Pop. I miss getting excited hearing the ice cream truck jingle. (Wait, who am I kidding, no I don't. I STILL get excited when that music plays.) I miss the candy lady selling penny Tootsie Rolls, nickel Fireballs, quarter water. I miss the frozen Kool-Aid in the Styrofoam cups. I miss the candy necklace. I miss playing Hide and Go Seek. I miss playing Hide and Go Get It two years later. (Wait, I still play that game, it's called dating now.) I miss my partners Larry, Chris, James, Craig, Mike. I miss nap time. I miss the graham crackers and chocolate milk for a snack. I miss the girls with the two ponytails on either side of their head, playing jump rope with their jellies on. I miss playing Criss Cross Applesauce in school. I miss coloring. I miss playing Duck Hunt and cheating when no one was looking by having the gun RIGHT on the TV. I miss watching Double Dare. I miss wanting to BE on Double Dare. I miss staying up late and watching Arsenio Hall. I miss going to McDonalds when it actually meant something. I miss actually enjoying King's Dominion and Busch Gardens. I miss field trips. I miss the lunch Mom used to make; the bologna and cheese with the mayo Miracle Whip, the little sandwich bag of chips, the single cupcake. I miss WANTING to drink Sunkist. I miss getting into fist fights, only to be cool minutes later because you're tired of fighting (and kids don't hold grudges). I miss going to the Children's Museum. I miss having (seemingly) infinite energy to do EVERYTHING. I miss milk racing (WHAT YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT?!?). I miss being creative for Halloween; forget buying a costume, use that money for candy, I'll be a ghost. I miss going to the movies and actually seeing something WORTH your time. I miss the playground; slides and swings and monkey bars. I miss running through the sprinklers in the summer. I miss catching fireflies. I miss doing something that, as an adult you know is stupid; but as a child, it was mad fun, like messing with dogs. (Until that one day you go to mess with it, the gate is open. RUN! © Ghostface) I miss going to the pool. I miss summer camp. I miss the music. I miss my first girlfriend, Ashley. I miss the feeling of that first closed mouth kiss. I miss the feeling of that first open mouth kiss, and how much you thought it was NASTY. I miss hunching. (I know I wasn't the only one out there hunching A.K.A. dry humping.) I miss learning something new and it BLEW your mind. I miss playing with yo-yo's, marbles, jacks. I miss playing I Declare War and Go Fish and Old Maid. I miss the sleepovers. I miss watching A Nightmare on Elm Street for the first time, knowing good and full well I was scared. I miss sneaking behind my mom and watching Eddie Murphy Raw. I miss playing World Class Track meet with the pad, and knowing you were never fast enough to beat Cheetah. I miss the school lunches, especially when they made their own pizza on every other Friday. I miss the toys that came in Happy Meals. I miss when Happy Meals made kids HAPPY. I miss the Hardee's/Carl's Jr. commercials with The California Raisins. I miss note passing. I miss having that piece of paper come back with the "Yes" checked. (Actually, I got the third box, "Maybe") I miss when Puppy Love was just that; puppy love. I miss going to the zoo. I miss going to the aquarium. I miss snowball fights and water gun fights. I miss getting dirty and having fun doing it. Hell, I miss actually setting out on your day to get as dirty as possible because you knew it was going to be fun. I miss Chico Sticks and Laffy Taffy with the jokes on the inside. I miss Now And Laters. I miss corny jokes and thinking they were the funniest thing ever. I miss school plays. I miss being in D.A.R.E. I miss seeing Smokey The Bear and McGruff on TV (and in school!). I miss having fun on Easter doing Easter Egg hunts and getting that basket full of candy. I miss believing there was a Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. I miss watching The Neverending Story. I miss He-Man and Transformers and Smurfs and Fraggle Rock. I miss Nickelodeon being a new channel. I miss WANTING to go to Sesame Street. I miss Reading Rainbow. I miss Brain Games and Saturday morning cartoons. I miss going to Plaza Skating Rink (P-Town knows what I'm talking about!). I miss foot races. I miss Michael Jackson's videos. I miss Conjunction Junction. I miss being amazed at fireworks. I miss McDonald's playground. I miss playing The Oregon Trail. I miss playing Number Munchers. I miss playing freeze tag. I miss playing Red Light, Green Light, Simon Says, Mother May I. (I actually miss the little electronic toy Simon.) I miss playing Candy Land, Chutes And Ladders, Sorry!, Trouble, Guess Who!, Life. I miss having my mom mad as hell at me because I played Pencil Wars with all my #2 pencils. I miss being a part of Pizza Hut's Book It! Club. I miss reading Alexander And The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. (As a adult, I STILL feel Alexander's pain; I have them days now.) I miss reading Tales Of A Fourth Grade Nobody; Where The Wild Things Are; Where The Sidewalk Ends; A Light In The Attic; Falling Up; Superfudge; Choose Your Own Adventures; The Berenstain Bears books; Madeline (one of my FAVORITE books of all time, right there with Where The Wild Things Are). I miss reading Richard Scarry's books. I miss knowing almost every word to Who Framed Roger Rabbit. I miss watching Felix The Cat: The Movie, Rainbow Bright and the Star Stealer (hey, that was a good movie!), and having a cartoon crush on Jessica Rabbit and Ariel. I miss bath time.

I miss being tucked in at night. I miss my mom kissing my forehead so I can sleep good. I miss when Kool-Aid was the best thing ever.

I miss eating Peach Ice Cream while sitting on my front porch with my friends, laughing and talking the day away.

I miss having no responsibilities except for learning as much as possible and having fun doing it.

I miss being a kid.

Now playing: Ghostface Killah - Child's Play
via FoxyTunes

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Day 223 (Strawberry)

A man falls in love through his eyes, a woman through her ears. - Woodrow Wyatt

"What's wrong?"

I stare off into the night sky, as we sit on the cold, hard bench. "Nothing. I'm ok," I respond.

"Doesn't seem like it," she replies. "It's almost as if you're somewhere else, instead of enjoying your time with me."

I sigh. I inhale. I exhale. I fidget. I inhale. I exhale. I clear my throat.

"Tell me you love me," I finally say.

"You know I do, Jay."

"But I need to hear you say it."


Exasperated, I ask "Please, just say it."

She turns her face up, contorts it, disfigures it until it no longer looks like the angel's face I've come to adore. She grabs my face, pulls it close to hers, close enough for me to smell the sweet mix of Chardonnay and Spearmint.

"Jay, -"

I see her mouth the words I love you. But for some reason, I can't hear her voice when she says it. I heard her call out my full name. I felt the vibrations of her vocal cords ripple through her throat and end up in my eardrums, beating a sound so sonically delightful that I almost shudder at the mere thought of the sound of her, but I don't hear those three words. I turn away.

Almost as if someone had pressed the mute button to cut the volume back up, I hear her again.

"You happy? I said -. And you know I do."

Again, those three words, those three words that I need to hear more than the sound of my own voice at the moment again mute themselves from me, almost as if I don't deserve to feel their embrace.

I look into her eyes.

The look on my face says I don't believe her.

The look in her eyes says she doesn't believe her either.

Now playing: Coldplay - Strawberry Swing
via FoxyTunes

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Day 222 (Chocolate)

Love is the answer, but while you are waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty good questions. - Woody Allen

No lights.

2 candles.

One red, signifying the fire between them.

One white, signifying the pureness of their love.

She stood before him, looking like Aphrodite, Venus and Hathor merged and became Beauty personified. She was wearing all black; black bra, black underwear. He swallowed, no saliva in his mouth; it was all on his chin and shirt. Wiping his mouth, he looked at her once again. She smiled, asked him did he like what he saw. He nodded.

No words would come.

She shook her head and asked him what did he like about what he saw. He responded:

All of it.

She laughed. He stood up, walked over to get a better inspection.

She was magnificent. Immediately, she was infinitely desirable; her eyes kittenish, her stance alluring. She smelled like jasmine. He kissed her; she tasted like the sweetest candy, her taste filling his stomach. He knelt before her, all the while his hands were exploring, touching, feeling. He looked up at her, and she smiled a smile that would rival even the best sounding Siren. Kissing her belly, her thighs, her treasure, he filled his brain with every topographical notch of her body using every sense available to him.

He wanted her; he has wanted her since the moment he had to ability to want a woman. This is what invaded his dreams at night, this is what flashed in front of his eyes every day, this is what made every day a joy to look forward to, this moment in time, right here.

When he was younger, he gave her poetry describing her African Gourd Breasts and Bread Loaf Thighs and Grass Roots Buttocks and Niagara Falls orgasms. No one ever got that reaction from him. Now, he's stunned by her beauty, he's lost in her eyes, his heart jumping from the arch in his right foot to his left cerebellum; his motor skills off, his coordination out of sync. He was ready to see if what he gave her years ago were true.

He enjoyed her as if he was a 4 year old child tasting chocolate ice cream for the first time in 90 degree weather. At that moment, nothing else mattered. He knew that she was beautiful. She was beautiful beyond reference. And he belonged totally to her.

Now playing: Little Dragon - Scribbled Paper
via FoxyTunes


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