Sunday, August 31, 2008
and i miss you these days, so so much, more than words can convey. i love you and i miss you and i know you are taking care of you, breathing and praying and healing. i just wanted you to know you're constantly on my mind and heart and i hold you in a space touched by no one.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
of course there's a woman, i made fuckin cobbler didn't i? (peach blueberry to be exact, yes ma'am.) her name is...unimportant. i find myself coming to thoughts of her over and over. and i know she ain't worth my time. it's not about being conceited, cuz i do like her, but just because i like her as a person doesn't mean i need to be giving her my sensual attention. it's not worth it especially since i'm not getting what i want from her--i don't feel any passion. she's cute? yes. sweet? i guess but...no KA-BOOM chemistry. recently when i told a friend of mine that i don't have a crush right now and i want to have that irresistible attraction to someone before i step to them, she asked "how many romance novels have you read?" i said "a lot." but i don't think that's got shit to do with this. okay, maybe it has something to do with it but i don't think my high consumption of romance novels as a teenager (harlequin, arabesque, silhouette, etc) cancels out the intelligence of a woman like me who wants KA-BOOM factor. yes i am a very romantic fierce ass hard ass femme who still believes in that beautiful, wide, alive love that you feel in you just at the sound of the voice of the person you love or want to love. i want chemistry and that's not an unrealistic desire that i need to let go of cuz life ain't a romance novel. life don't need to be a tragic satire either. especially since i know what KA-BOOM fuckin feels like, i'm not giving up on it.
i want arms: around me,
heat on top of me,
breath breathing beside me.
i didn't call her tonite. i called her last night and the night before. i think she one of them butches used to getting attention from women, used to women comin at her so she just leeeeeeeans back and waits. and i been comin at her these past few days. i don't want to no more. i want to be met half way. i want KA-BOOM and a list of 36 things and counting. i'd just fuckin rather make cobbler than tumble down into something with no KA-BOOM. what's the point?
did i tell you my ex called me today? fuck no i didn't pick up the phone! please. that KA-BOOM spells disaster. and i am so done with disaster.
p.s.: this is the type of shit i do for myself when i'm single--take care of myself in decadent ways like making cobbler for my fly ass. making beautiful dinners for myself. oh and the cobbler was yummy! of course i had it with pineapple coconut ice cream, i love the crust. next time i'll try mango raspberry coconut cobbler. can you spell "love of self"? i can ;)
Saturday, August 16, 2008
today i feel like woooooow, for the first time in a long time, i am not pressed to have a woman on top of my body making love to me and proving to me i'm valuable and worthy of love. when i want a woman, when i care about her, i want to learn all the curves and angles and crevices of her--i want to know what her favorite music and movies are, what her favorite foods are, her favorite brand of tea, where she grew up, her dreams, etc. i want to know these things so i can give her the best of her favorites and let her know, of course i remember and of course i listen and yes i made you your favorite meal better than your mama or as close as i could get to it because i care enough to try and succeed at taking good ass care of you.
but right now, i just don't care. not in an embittered, tupac shakur-fuck-the-world way, i just don't feel like directing my energy into someone else. i already know all my favorites. and so i give them to me. i'm taking it easy after my wisdom tooth removal and breathing. i took days off work and tried not to feel guilty and reminded myself that i had fuckin surgery and need to rest and the world will keep spinnin even if i stay home from work, eat mushy foods and watch law & order: criminal intent on netflix.
i feel like i gained more than i lost. i wanna give me what i've been so hungry to give away. i'ma keep some me for me and hug me close. it's about time i really really learned this lesson.
concert scheduled for 7:30, i got there about 5:45. line down the block. my friends were way up front. i skipped some people in line, hopped a fence, got me a seat with my friends who'd been camping out since 4:00.
concert started. jill is heterosexual. did you know that? in case there was any doubt, allllllll doubt was erased from alllllllll our minds with comments that critiqued Black women in relationships as nagging, whiny bitches. did she say those words? NO. but she did say that it's important for the man and the woman (yeah, only heteros have relationships) to continue doing the same sweet things that they did in the beginning all throughout the relationship to maintain it. she gave an example of a woman asking her man "how are you daddy?" after work and with her head motions, she imitated the motions of fellatio while continuing to--very sweetly--ask her man how he is and what it is she could do to make him happy. then she fasts forward to 7 years later and the same man walks thru the same door and the same woman says something to the effect of "damn, can't you see i'm on the phone, could you be quiet?" she's rude, she's the stereotypical rude, mean, Black woman with a bad attitude. this is her critique of why men and women break up. there is no parallel critique of whatever dumb shit men may do to have that woman that pissed off or even what mean, asshole-ish ways they may have developed over that 7 year period that could be contributing to a non-functional relationship. i say "wow", i guess the almighty Black man can do no wrong in jill's eyes.
i'm just saying, if you gonna critique the women, please critique the men too. it takes 2 you know and in the case of polyamorous or open relationships, it takes many more. :) the concert felt like what homophobic churches make me feel like--judged, excluded and annoyed. don't get me wrong--there were definitely some songs that had me out my seat and dancing, especially the house version of "he loves me". of course all our gay asses switched the pronouns to suit our orientation. ;)
the assumption that i give a fuck about YET ANOTHER straightie love song and that everyone in the audience is a breeder is so damn oppressive. as much as some love dick, i don't--not unless it's made of plastic or silicone and strapped to a sexy butch. so PLEASE DO NOT ASSUME EVERYONE IS HETERO. it's stupid and just plain...STUPID.
i like to feel like in a crowd, i exist, all of me, not just my rhythm, my Blackness, but my Nigerian dyke self. in that crowd, i felt like her commentary in between songs was spraying invisible aerosole cans on me and my crew.
but still, we queer. living our lives like they're golden, living it like i'm a golden dyke who eats pussy. it's cool if jill ain't writing a dyke love song that sounds like the inside of my heart. i'll do it. i'll tell my story and dance it. that's fuckin golden.
Friday, August 15, 2008
so once i got a QWERTY keypad and could type just as easliy on my fone as a laptop, i was and continue to be, alllllll about texting. we've gotten to the point tho, that we, or at least i, need to set some ground rules.
1. texting is NOT a replacement for real conversation and human contact. it is a supplement to be used when one has a.) no time to talk, b.) is unavailable (i.e.: at work, in a meeting, at a movie, etc) or c.) only has a simple yes or no question that does not require a conversation (i.e.: "i'll be there at 6:30" or "can i bring a friend?")
2. PLEASE don't be face to face with someone and start texting SOMEONE ELSE like they ain't there. if you gotta text someone, say so and let who you're actually with in person know you'll be done in a minute. treat their time and presence as valuably as you want yours to be.
3. when crushing on a woman, i so love the flirtateous texts that get sent back and forth with butterflies in tummy and smile all over face and heart BUT those texts are not sufficient foreplay or flirtation. an actual fone conversation is necessary during which both parties choose whether they're interested enough to venture out on a date.
4. we are still people, my people. let's not let technology replace hugs, hearing our friends laughter in our ears, taking walks, cooking for each other and having the guts to say what you fuckin mean with your voice instead in a tersely worded, yet deliberately ambiguous fuck you text or a lukewarm come on. if you wanna holla at someone, HOLLA. jump in. get wet. if you don't like the temperature of the pool, you can always get out.
just some suggestions. ;)
Saturday, August 2, 2008
it started during pride. the sadness. I was so angry cuz I saw very few butches of color. their presence was painfully absent, like they were all protesting pride. there was no one I saw—between Brooklyn pride,
today. I made myself some self-love mango cobbler. from scratch. I figure hey, hearts break daily. this pain is real. I’m not denying or muffling it. at the same time, I want to give myself sweet, loving things, like a mango cobbler on a Saturday afternoon. from me to me. on Thursday I crocheted myself a beautiful set of earrings. from me to me.
I’ve been speaking with my girls, sharing my heart and listening to their stories. today Connie, my incredibly wise and deeply hilarious friend of about 5 years told me she said to her partner recently, “I’m the cake, you’re the icing. I am already sweet, you make life sweeter. and that icing can be replaced—strawberry, chocolate, whatever.” she had me cracking up. she don’t take no shit. she’s this fierce woman who knows exactly what she wants and who she is and always says what she means.
somewhere, somehow I let myself believe that fucking and dating make life better. but when I’m dating, my life is not better, just full of someone else’s shit. sometimes I want someone else’s shit—when it’s their love, their arms, their kindness, their humor. but sometimes I don’t, not when that shit is jealousy, insecurity, careless choices and fucked up behavior. I see people in relationships—some are strangers, some I know personally—and a lot of them ain’t fuckin happy, just stuck in some shit they’re used to and tired of but scared to let go of. or they’re scared they won’t be able to find someone else. or they want someone, even if they know that someone isn’t who they truly love. or they’re in love with the idea of being loved, even if the person loving them annoys the shit out of them. I know what that’s like. it sucks.
I actually feel better. for the first time in several weeks, the inside of my chest feels like something has been cleared from it.
I should probably eat something more substantial for lunch. but trust, I will be eating more cobbler later. did I tell you I had it with pineapple coconut ice cream melting on top? I love myself hard. the way I was meant to. can I get an amen?