Random Family

I first heard about Boy George from my Kid’s Father. Boy George was a large drug nigga like Alpo and Fat Cat but from the Bronx where my kid’s father is from. I heard this nigga had the James Bond cars that shot oil from the tail and tacks to flatten tires of anybody trying to carchasel him and that he had parties where Jody Watley and other stars at the peak of their careers performed. I heard some other shit that didn’t make it into the book and is therefore not my place to repeat.

So when I found this book  Random Family (on a stoop) and saw his name in the blurb about the book, I thought this was going to be along the lines of Scarface or American Gangster.

I have to segue a lil’ into a whole other tangent.

All along, for some time now, I’ve been asking for a teacher or a guide. My kids father was my teacher and guide for a long time. Then it became like how when you first start taking piano lessons you feel like your teacher is a master but after awhile you practice the chords and repeat, repeat, repeat until you find your own intuitive ability. Then you start veering off, playing with different melodies and developing your innate talent. After a while, there isn’t anything more to learn from that teacher and you have to move on.  When the focus of our relationship became drama, mistrust, hostility, suspicion and dishonesty, he couldn’t teach me anymore because I didn’t want to learn that and it was like his focus became trying to destroy me. The more I started really seeing the ugly things he said, did or thought the further and further away I felt from him to where mentally we don’t connect anymore. And because I stopped trusting him , he stopped being an authority on anything to me.

One day, and I swear I’m not even bullshitting this man came on TV and started saying things that tied into all the millions of thoughts running around the hamster wheel of my brain. I went ahead and when I got the money, bought the CDs he was talking about.

I didnt have the money right then so for about a month, I just thought about it and thought about it. I researched Sri Yantra and sacred geometry and the “tulpa” and mad shit was going thru my head but in broken strands not in any orbit. When I first listened to the tapes, I was feeling like this was too simple and the man was really only saying the same things over and over but there were little things that he said that struck me and let me know if this wasnt the real shit it was very close to it.

So anyway, last week I’m listening to this man and it is relevant that he’s a WHITE man talking about how you can create great wealth or whatever the hell you want with your mind and how this is the secret of success. And I applied it and it worked a little to show me that it works.

Then I started reading this book and it turned out to not be a scintillating urban action thriller at all but the story of a Bronx family. The tragic, heartbreaking and painful story of the shit that we as Black women all go thru, about the lack, degradation, misery, confinement and brokenness that has  become us. Everybody in this book, (except for Boy George who knows the EXACT shit I paid that guide to teach me when I bought those CDs and who put it in the realest way possible so you can feel it), is powerless.

This dude that was down with GW Bush said “We’re history’s actors. We create realities while you stand around and study what we do.”

I have been living a made life, made by other people, studying their moves after they’ve made them, always playing catch-up, trying to make $250 out of $.50.

When I started this blog, I thought it would play out as me rewinding tape and editing out some parts, splicing the good back together and rolling footage. But now its looking like I have to take this straight to DVD. Its turning into something totally different.


Sinking Into Depression

I feel like shit. I’ve been feeling that way for three days now, culminating in drinking a bottle of vodka the day before yesterday. I woke up yesterday totally embarrassed trying to think back to everything I said and did. I told my kids father I feel anxious and he told me some dumb shit about not accepting things because they are “unconventional”. Fuck atta here, whatever that means.

I am sad because I feel like I am always going to be a failure. I haven’t accomplished anything and I don’t have the means of accomplishing anything. On top of that, I feel mad lonely, like Life hates me. I feel like there is no point to me being alive. Its like I’m here to suffer and learn hard lessons and serve a disproportionate “justice” for everything I am and everything I do.

I feel like I’m breaking all the way down mentally, like if I could find something to be high on all the time, I would just do that.

My mind isn’t at peace. I have so many things that are unresolved and broken to fix. And no emotional support. Don’t get me wrong. I have good friends that I am grateful to have but all of my friends have their own families, their own kids, their own empty pockets, half ass jobs, their own shit. Nobody is in a position to have me lean on them or to reassure me that things will be okay for me when they don’t know for themselves even how their own shit will turn out. I can’t put it on them.

I don’t have anybody in my life where they feel what happens to me. This lady called it a twin soul when she wrote about it and at the time I didnt understand her but its true for me too. It doesn’t have to be a man, although I’d like it to be. I just want somebody connected to me like that. Its like if something happened to me, everybody would have a reaction and I know a whole bunch of people would be sad but other than my kids, I’d just be a girl that they knew who died.

When my brother told me to start this blog and find my way back, I had a whole bunch of preconceived notions of what things would look like at the end. I imagined it to look very much like the past but I don’t want to go back to the past. I want a new life.

I want my own house that I designed.

I want a successful business.

I want to travel and go places and see some of what I only read about to make them real.

I want a string of good things to happen to even out the bad all the time so its not like I’m cursed.

I want good friends again, like Regine and Edna and Nickita and Tanya McCreary and ALL of the real friends that I had when I was little.

I am overwhelmed by the losses back to back to back and the rejection all the time.

Capricorn Woman, Cancer Men…The Saga

There are three Cancer Men in my life and all three of them are kicking my ass emotionally right now.

The first is my little big brother. My little big brother was born when I was six. The events happened back to back: I came to this country, went to sleep a few nights and woke up one morning to him being here. I knew about pregnant women and that my mother was pregnant when I saw her again the first time but my little brother’s birth was like I made a wish and got it. I was miserable when I came here. My little sister was jealous (she was 3, she couldn’t help it) and the first things she did were in that vein, scratching me, snatching my chain off, running between me and her mother. It was so dirty here and I missed the two dozen people that made up my daily life till that point badly. So when I suddenly had a baby here just like the babies I had back at home, I was happy as hell.

I loved my little big brother. He was born with a big ass head and a face like a pie. He had some kind of autism or retardation and they used to talk about him in terms of how fucked up he’d be because of his condition. I felt mad protective towards him. He was one of those people that couldn’t conceive of grimey shit, like he was innocent and sweet and so grateful for any little thing you did for him. I used to kiss my little brother up like a million times a day and play with him all day, carrying him around like a doll. I remember getting a beating when he ate mud. I made mud cakes and this little boy ate them and was sitting there with a mouthful of mud and my mother lit my ass up. I remember another beating from playing with the hose until I sprayed a big ass patch of the grass up out of the lawn spraying him. My moms was never maternal, never kissy or huggy or sweet but I was, especially to him. I loved the shit out of my little brother and apparently the feeling was very, very, very mutual.

As time went on, I stayed close to him. I used to cook for him, read with him and teach him things from the Mathemagics book that we had. I don’t have one bad memory of him in my whole life. When he was little and he told me still to this day, his favorite food is my world famous spaghetti with hotdogs and ketchup. (It can’t be the taste, I think its the memories for him too). He doesn’t eat raw lunchmeat because I used to cook cold cuts and his favorite drink is sugar water lemonaide, my other gourmet specialty. My little big brother had that idiot savant thing where he can learn some things so well its like his memory is photographic but he’s otherwise not smart. He knows two plus three is five but he can’t learn life lessons. He had the entire MTA subway map memorized when he was four so he could tell you every stop that every train stopped at and all the connections. He never understood social cues or that people are fucked up inside or that bad stuff happens to good people. But because he was always with me, he used to play with all the other little kids and he learned to socialize. He learned to play sports and games but he never was the right age mentally. When my little big brother was like eleven, I left my mother’s the first time for good.

By then, my littlest brother, the second Cancer was born. My littlest brother was fucked up bad with autism. He was born when I was sixteen. My mother knew how I was with babies and she expected that I would be the same way with him as I had been with my little big brother but I was a teenager then and engrossed in my own shit. Engrossed. I took care of my littlest brother and when I was home he was always up under me but thats when I was home, which I tried to make as little of the time as possible. Hindsight being twenty/twenty I used to think my mother had my littlest brother to try and patch things up with her husband but she might have been thinking of me too, wishing that the baby being there would make me come back and be how I was. Life is crazy.

At any rate, I was too engrossed to understand. I didn’t even understand myself at that age.

I didn’t come home. I was too busy chasing another Cancer. My kid’s father. You know how people say they thought “the world” of somebody? I thought the Sun of that dude. I loved my kids’ father. Everything about him fascinated me and I remember when we first started living together, laying next to him looking at his face and playing with his eyelashes and touching his skin.

Not in a sexual way, but I remember doing that to all my Cancers. Even my daughter now. I remember doing that to all of them and telling them how much I loved them and that they were my sweety love baby or my benjiboom or my big big bigboy or with the kids father… my true and living god. Without really thinking of  what happened to those words when they left my mouth. I never really thought of how those words affected them or what impact I had on them.  I get caught up in my emotions, what people make me feel and my needs to where I don’t see myself as an active doer in relationships but that’s probable the case for everybody.

I’m not ready to talk about it yet but my little big brother just got married. I missed his wedding. Just like, I missed all the other important things in his life once I left home. My brother used to come wherever I was at and just sit with me the day but I never really thought about why he was there. I just figured he aint have nothing else to do, without thinking he’s a Cancer and maaaad emotional and he’s guided by those feelings. Whenever I cut my moms off, I never made other arrangements to stay in tune with him. Its like one minute this little boy had me not just in his corner but I liked him, understood him, loved him unconditionally thru and thru always and the next minute I just turned my back. But at the time,

I was about to go into a bunch of lies. Without meaning to lie. But the truth is that I just forgot about him. That makes me feel foul on par with my moms and her foul-ness. That’s Mummy caliber of hurting people. I just forgot about him, like if I thought about him I would smile but not go look for him. The same thing with my littlest brother.

He was four when I had my own son. The craziest thing I remember was that one time he had on an old hat that belonged to one of my friends from Tech when I came to the house. I asked him about it and he launched into a whole speech about the boy and he’d remembered EVERYTHING I’d told him like I was a living legend. He was wearing that hat like my jersey. When he was a baby, I used to talk mad slow to him but never in baby talk and I would drag out the explanations of everything down to the detail. I would say things like “Benji, walk to the kitchen and open the fridge, look in the door of the fridge and get a purple container that says Silk. Open it and put it on the table. Get a bowl. Get the cereal and pour it into the bowl, slowly so you don’t spill it. When you see the top of the cereal make a mountain, put the bowl on the table next to the Silk. Then pour some silk on the cereal until only the top of the mountain is showing.” for everything. He used to wild out when people gave him regular directions and he couldn’t follow and they’d hit him or call him names but I always had patience. He wasn’t supposed to be able to show affection because of the autism but I kissed and tickled and played with him so much that he was very affectionate. Sometimes inappropriately so. My little brother used to tickle my kids’ father which was super creepy. He knew Benji was autistic but he still used to react like how anybody would react if a little crazy kid just started tickling them.

That reminds me of another Cancer, born on the 4th of July, my friend’s son Rah. My friend was mean as a rattlesnake and she used to beat  her kids up bad. All day, she’d be smacking, punching, pulling hair, screaming in their faces, even kicking them. Rah was like four but he had no teeth because all his front teeth had gotten rotted out by the bottle. But he was the sweetest baby. I used to play with him all day and kiss him up and protect him. The daughter was too shellshocked to really be close to anybody but she used to like to hold my hand and sit next to me. Rah though was like he wanted to climb into my body like if he could squeeze himself into my belly he would’ve. One day my kid’s father came over there and he was like why is the young god looking at me like that?

Rah was ice grilling him, mad dogging  him, mad as fuck the whole day. As young as he was, the jealousy was very mannish like if he had any wins, he would’ve tried to kick my kids’ father’s ass. I would have had to choose that day, lol.  Again with the hindsight being twenty/twenty my kid’s father was teasing me like I was cheating with the little boy or something but that was probably not far from what Rah was thinking. He was hurt and mad when my kids’ father showed up. My little big brother wanted to play ball and make music because of my kid’s father and he’d sit there and listen to what he was doing for hours when he came to the crib. If I’d had the level of understanding I do now then, I would’ve told my kids father our history and to just take him under the wing because he was going through some abandonment shit. My littlest brother like I said, used to tickle him and come sit with him whenever he was there. I never thought about it though, really, in terms of what they were going through.

So much shit that I never thought about. My little big brother stayed mad short, kept the same size head and went into the military. I moved uptown and hardly ever saw my littlest brother after a while. When I would see him though, I would take him to do whatever  I could that was the most fun with him. If I had a car, I’d take them driving. If I had five dollars, we’d walk and get ice cream. He was another one that was supremely grateful for anything.

Its like if that lady from Helen Keller just quit her job and went to go work in an office.  Like if one Monday, helen keller was sitting there waiting for anne sullivan and this heifer had just bounced, got her a next job, a kid of her own or something and never came to check her.

Back to the three pronged assault though. I was talking to my little big brother and I told him that me and my kids father broke up and that I put him out. He goes so where did he go? I said I don’t know, to his brothers. The shit felt so heavy when he asked me like somebody just told me they put somebody old out in the cold with no money and no help. He asked me what about the kids. I told him they were okay and he didn’t say anything. Then he asked me if my kid’s father got a new wife. I said some angry shit and he goes thats so messed up for your family and then he asked me if my kid’s father was sick. I said no. And then I told him that he twice shit a toilet bowl full of blood. He went silent. I could hear him breathing but neither of us could talk.  He told me he’d known my kids father since he was little and he’d never thought about him getting old and dying.

I felt like running. Dead serious. All I could think was how can I get some money so I can move to Hawaii. If I had anywhere to go I would’ve dropped the phone and ran there.

My little brother told me he’s always going to love me but. I can’t handle that either.

Then my littlest brother wrote me a letter asking me to please take him somewhere for his bday with “my family”. That made me think of how I had built him up like he would always have me and then pushed him away till now he’s an outsider that has to be asking to tag along. And then the type of people that he is, he’s been thinking about that  for awhile, probably since the last time I spent time with him…three years ago.

My kid’s father (i can’t think of an alias yet) is the third prong. He makes me feel autistic and retarded. On the relationship level, he deserved to get put out on his fucken ass but emotionally, going back to our history and looking at the whole of everything, I can’t deal with how wicked I feel for turning my back on him and putting him out in the street after the way I built him up. I can’t deal with how I was looking at the blood in the toilet medically when any little thing  that happens in MY body, I relate to stress and emotional breakdown. When LE (my little big brother) took that shit so hard, I thought about when my kid’s father found out his brother had heart surgery. And he was fucked up, like this can’t be happening to my Olympian pet grizzly bear BIG brother. It was like this iconic legendary hero that was like superman since he was little is now kicked and bloody on the ground on front of him and there’s nothing he can do about it.  My kid’s father was the first dude that was good at everything, muscles bulging and ‘hood and smart and good at the video games he played with my little brothers. I never think about that. This is my brother’s superman. When I look at how my brothers started working out, making music, playing ball and even carrying themselves, that’s their model.

And I never thought about that.

So, where it is right now is since then, I’ve been thinking and thinking and thinking.  other people and my impact on them. What we all need. what they need from me. It would be nothing for me to go find my little big brother, go meet his wife, hug him up and kick it with them and make everybody feel good. It would be nothing for me to tell my mother to start letting my littlest brother spend the weekends with me. It’s nothing for me to tell my kid’s father that I love him and always will. But what about maintaining that shit? With my kids father I look at it like he’s a grimey nigga that at any time could destroy me mentally, emotionally and spiritually and I have to keep him at arm’s length so he doesn’t end up having me smoking crack somewhere. I can’t trust him and what he wants to do is destructive to me.

Its not just the cheating, but everything that comes with it – the rejection, the lies, the competing with other bitches for some “thing” that’s supposed to be mine, not ever knowing exactly what is going on, the mindgames I can’t play because I am looking at it like this is my life… All I can do is crumble under that. He was here all week until Friday. Friday he left and spent the night somewhere and then Saturday I guess the same and then he went to some studio and now he is wherever he is. What can come from that? Like what is in it for me to pursue a relationship with a man so he can feel comfortable dividing his time between home and family and the shit that he really likes to do so he can rap about how he fucks alot? So with him, uggghhhh…

They say you have the same relationship with a cancer man as you do with your mother and that is the truth. Just like her, he didn’t want me when he had me and now he can’t come back. The day she killed it for me was the day she told me that a man she met on the street and started fucking with was her family and for me that came out of her body to stop messing with her family. The day this dude killed it for me was the day he told me he was confused. That had a harder impact then when he told me he never wanted these kids, I just kept getting pregnant. That was a doozie but the confused shit blew that away… Twenty years and five kids in and you is confused? WTF fuck kinda weak ass shit is that? He could have told me anything and it would have been better than saying that. If you confused then you not in control and I’m know I’m not in control so who the  is? Amanda Rollins or Ithiopia or SarahPNC?

I have reached the point where I don’t have to be fighting with him but I know he’s not my peoples.  I take the best part he has to offer that day and I don’t look for nothing else. Cause  he has NOTHING for me. The day is never going to come where I get back from him anything equal to what I put in or when I don’t feel like I need a drink to be okay with “us”. So the honest truth is that I wasn’t planning on maintaining anything with him because as soon as I could, my plan was to RUN. As soon as I met another man I fell in love with and my kids were in a situation where they could function independently that was going to be the last my kid’s father ever heard or saw of me, lol. Whatever had happened the day before be damned, I would drop his ass like a hot rock and make moves. We could have been in bed talking about the highest sciences and mathematics and how much we were the Sun and Earth and hours later, I would’ve met my real soulmate and boated.  And I felt like he deserved no more or less.

But my brothers don’t. I don’t want to make them feel good or show them that I love them today and then can’t maintain it. I need to find a way to bring them into my life, to stay. Otherwise I’m going to turn on the news one day and see my brother’s face on there (either one) talking about he’s the one thats been killing all those hookers.

I also need to stop feeling overwhelmed by feelings. But I feel overwhelmed, till the point of being crippled. I can’t think of emotions or feel a deep one without something happening in my chest or crying. They don’t get integrated into the experience and then I feel needy or like I’m missing something. Too often, I think of a person and then think of how I feel for them, as two separate things.

Help Me Universe. I’ll leave it at that. I was trying to think of a solution so I could leave things nice and tidy but thats not the reality. Just help me Universe.

The Drinks and the Drugs

I want to blaze something so bad right now that I’m about to do some crazy shit. I was planning to take my time to post about this but I have reached the point where it needs discussing now.

After I broke up with my kids father, I went through some heavy shit emotionally and I broke a couple of times. By breaking I mean, I buckled and  I had to drink to cope with my life. I was getting tore up everyday. I took antidepressants. I tried cocaine. I was smoking cigarettes.  I cried and cried and cried.

What made me stop was not how unhealthy that shit is but the fact that getting fucked up everyday is hard on a bitch facially and I want to keep my smooth skin and innocent good looks. I have enough mileage because I have so many kids and the last thing I want is to see my face start looking like its sliding off.

I stopped drinking like all that but I am still an alcoholic. When I know I am going to drink, I feel so good and its like the highlight of my day, finally something to look forward to…

I drink out of boredom and I smoke to fall out. I don’t even enjoy weed like that. If I had access to drugs like MDMA and acid, I probably wouldn’t even smoke weed but since thats really all I know how to get, I fuck with that.

I don’t like wanting to smoke or drink. I hate how I feel right now because I don’t have any erb or money so I’m going to end up going to buy a loosie from the corner store.

I came home from my little spot today earlier than I wanted to because the band they let play was making an infernal racket with the volume turnt up to DEFEAT. I was in a shitty mood  and acted like a bitch to the kids and have been holed up in my room since I got home.

My Three Loves

I feel mad lonely today. Just lonely like all alone in this muhfucka.

I am feeling that gloom again because I want a man in my life so bad I am about to start doing crazy shit. Like cutting off all my hair, tatooing my face and piercing my lip. Not. But you know what I mean. I’m really feeling bad that I don’t have anybody to send me little love notes or to go to the movies with or to try and impress with the West Indian Skill. And I’m feeling even worse because its not just a man I want, its three.

I want a man I get money with. I’m tired of fucking up hundreds and thousands, I’m ready to blow millions now. I want to be a man’s vehicle to serious paper. Let me explain because I know  that sounds crazy. I’m not selling ass, pussy or giving head for money. Period. But I want management that can get a chick focused and amped to paper chase for. I can’t do it myself because my head be a million fcken places at once and the motivation won’t be there. It won’t be motivation, it’ll be desperation.  I know me and I know I could get gassed up into producing millions and billions. I get off on the praise more than the money and I would pay a man a million dollars for the rush of being a bitch that could put a million dollars in his hands.

I want a sweetheart. Somebody I’m really feeling and I fuck with everyday, no drama, no lies/games/bullshit, no baggage. A sweetheart I can jog in the park with and rollerskate with and  have fun with.  Definitely younger than me and no kids, no baby mother, no wife, no dumbness.

I want (of course) the Soulmate. Let me tell you about the Soulmate. The Soulmate is gorgeous, cut thee fuck up, 6’4″ 225-275lbs ideally, rock solid. He is deep, irreligious, passionate and magnetic and shit is just *beautiful* with him. The Soulmate teaches me and enlightens me. He maybe has kids that he has custody of but other than that, I don’t want the Soulmate to have shit. I don’t want the Soulmate to come into Us already made. I want to build it up with him. I want it to be so beautiful with him like even when shit is bad, it’s still all good. And I want this man to love me to death, like he could never again be without me and the bond between us is so strong, it can overcome anything. I want the Soulmate to be fucked up in the game when we meet. I’m not even with throwing stuff in people’s faces so it’s not for that. I just don’t want to come into anybody’s pre-made anything. I want to build him up mentally and physically and spiritually while he does the same for me. I want the Soulmate to be Aries, Taurus, or Scorpio. I want to have a baby or two with the soulmate but… not more than I want all my kids to have the same father…

I wish me luck because what an order, lol.

The Get Money Man is possibly in the works. He’s the dude that I wrote about in the last post. I just thought of an Alias for him too…Five Oh Five. 505, like the jeans lmao.

The Sweetheart is nowhere to be found. The men I am meeting dis-fucking-gust me. First of all, I am not attracted to men my age, which is dead wrong but it is what it is. Second of all, why would I want to sneak around and get half assed by somebody else’s cheating piece of shit husband? The fuck would I want a piece of relationship for? For that, couldn’t I just stay with my own kids father?

The only possibility is this Sag dude I  met the same day 505 hit me up. He needs an alias too so we’ll call him 3rd Sun. 3rd Sun looks mad good and he is beyond smart and aware on the spiritual plane. But, he is all wrong for me and I’m not attracted to him sexually at all. He is definitely going in the movie though, without a doubt.

My Gemini cheating loser “sweetheart” (whose alias is Bogus Balonius) is locked up. That’s a fun dude but again, all wrong and I am not fucking him ever which is a problem.  I could never, ever, never play myself like I’ma make him my man and he is definitely not athletic, lmao… so there would be nooooo jogging, rollerskating and eating healthy for us. I miss Bogus like crazy because he was funny as hell but dude is so full of shit, you wonder how his organs and bones fit in there. I wonder how long he got sent for. Bogus is definitely going in the movie.

The Soulmate is nowhere in sight. I don’t have a bead on that guy at all….. He’s probably locked up right now with Bogus Balonius… or in the trenches in his country…. or sticking shit up in the Gulf of Aden, on his Red Beard steez.

Some Shit You Gotta Do For The Movie

I regret that I came in to the training class at MS the year I did. If I had come the year before, I would have trained with Dawson and Stacy and shit would have turned out differently big time.

Instead, I came in with Bobby and James and shit turned out fucked up. Bobby is reprehensible. That little stubby fucker is not fat but he is still somehow the Biggest Loser year after year after year. Bobby sucks. James on the other hand, was not only cooler than a fan but  in one conversation this dude changed my whole life. If this nigga had passed training, I shudder to think what would have happened. But of course, nothing gold can stay, so that ugly ass girl that said she was 25 but looked 38 fucked with him until he left.

The day he changed my life,  I was kicking it with James and he tells me that if he ever saw Mary J Blidge or Lil Kim or et cetera walking down the street, he would  jump out in front of them and just start throwing dollar bills, making it rain on these bitches.

I was like, why, why would you do that?

He goes, for the movie. Its certain things you just have to do for the movie of your life.

Yesterday some shit happened that’s definitely going in the movie. I had just come from WIC and I was walking up the block when I decided to go into the famous Carol’s Daughter to see what was popping. I’d heard so much about this spot and I’m a fiend for anything with the word “natural” on the label. The shit could be naturally artificial, real like a duplicate and all my ass will see is the “natural” still and cop two. And don’t let it smell nice cause then I’ll be mainlining it.

Anyway, I went into CD’s and had a disconcerting experience. The big gorrilla bear working in there was dark skinned, bald and had one of those full beards like niggas from Philly.  He kept bringing everything way too close to my face like he was trying to push up but when this guy opened his mouth, he sounded like a white woman. I don’t know how this muhfucka got all the base out his voice but word to everything,  it sounded like he was talking through his nose while someone was squeezing his balls.

I left out of there grimacing. The soap was wack and real infantile too, which made me feel like the whole spot was wack, homeboy not withstanding. He wasn’t wack,  he was iconic because this gorilla bear burned himself into my memory. I was walking up the block, shaking my head and just on the humble, I checked my blackberry.

5:05 That Dude.

(I hate that I have to assign an alias but his name is instantly recognizable and I have to see what it is before I shout homie out like that.)

At five oh-five pm, on April 5, this dude  hit me up on the BB. I saw that shit, I started bugging. I was laughing and screaming and I had to just stop for a second and look again. And yep, it was still there.

I hope soooo bad this turns out to be some shit for the movie…

This Is Your Brain On Sex

I woke up this morning feeling way better than I did when I went to bed last night. Last night I felt shitty because of hoodrats hating on me. This morning I feel great because the sun is shining, my energy levels are high and I envision a preeeeetttty perfect day ahead of me. I am going jogging in Prospect Park, then hitting up this little spot over there and just enjoying the vibe, then finding a Mango Tango smoothie and drinking that as I walk a mile or so the bus stop. I’m taking the bus home, to people watch these Brooklyn streets. When I get home, I’m cooking some supremely good shit and then kicking it with my kids until I go to bed.

I don’t know if I will be drinking and smoking today. (More about that later, in a later post.)

Anyway, yesterday night we were exploring different aspects re: macks and players. I was going to launch my follow-up post to that ( “Dick Rationing and… Other Plusses That At First Seem Like Minuses” ) but before I can do that I feel I have to lay a foundation so I’m leading off instead with… “This is Your Brain on Sex.”

I’m not going to go into the man’s side of it because well, I’m not a man… and between Maxim, FHM, Men’s Health Plus (and et cetera ad nauseum), you can read stupid theories about why men trip off so hard off sex the whole day long if you want to.

But ladies, let’s talk about why we do.  ‘Cause really this post should be titled “This is Your Brain on Dick.”

I’ll do all the talking for now. You speak your piece in the comments section…


When a woman is in the presence of an oxytocin-stimulating man, she may override her intellectual judgment about their “compatibility,” especially when she attempts to diminish oxytocin’s impact with alcohol.

Where formerly she might be sexually conservative, requiring a serious commitment, she now finds herself deeply involved sexually before negotiating boundaries, such as his (or her) current marital status, criminal background, and financial accountability.

Her brain may disqualify him,
while her body says “yes.”

The problem with oxytocin-based addictive bonding to an inappropriate man is that the intellect is relegated to a secondary status in choice and judgment. The good counsel of parents, friends, religious leaders and psychotherapists is of no benefit. Addiction to oxytocin as a pleasure takes over.

Oxytocin is a peptide (you’re on the internet, google it) “secreted from the pituitary gland’s posterior lobe from which it goes to receptor sites in the brain and throughout the reproductive tract, especially where estrogen resides.”  Oxytocin is serious. It plays a significant role in our  instinct to love and form social bonds. Oxytocin is so integral to emotional health that without healthy levels of it we start to exhibit neuroses.

Its important that oxytocin is released by the pituatary gland because the pituitary gland is a very special gland.

The sixth chakra is known as the 3rd eye. According to the yogis, the pituitary gland of the sixth chakra and the pineal gland of the seventh chakra must join essences to open the 3rd eye.

The master gland is about the size of a pea, located behind the center of our forehead, between our eyes. The sixth chakra is called the Brow Chakra. It is the main control center that sends messages to all the other glands from its two lobes, the posterior and the anterior. It prompts the proper growth of glands and organs and regulates sexual development.

This gland is called the “seat of the mind”. The frontal lobe regulates emotional thoughts like poetry and music. The anterior lobe regulates concrete thought and intellectual concepts.

-Beth Coleman, Opening The Third Eye

To me this connection to the chakras explains the spiritual component of oxytocin. Think about it. Love, trust, bonding and feeling comfortable are spriritual, not mental or physiological. Further,

In the brain, oxytocin is involved in social recognition and bonding, and might be involved in the formation of trust between people.

Oxytocin secreted from the pituitary gland cannot re-enter the brain because of the blood-brain barrier. Instead, the behavioural effects of oxytocin are thought to reflect release from centrally-projecting oxytocin neurons, different from those that project to the pituitary gland. Oxytocin receptors are expressed by neurons in many parts of the brain and spinal cord, including the amygdala, ventromedial hypothalamus, septum and brainstem.

  • Sexual arousal. Oxytocin injected into the cerebrospinal fluid causes spontaneous erections in rats (Gimpl 2001), reflecting actions in the hypothalamus and spinal cord.
  • Bonding. In the Prairie Vole, oxytocin released into the brain of the female during sexual activity is important for forming a monogamous pair bond with her sexual partner. Vasopressin appears to have a similar effect in males . In people, plasma concentrations of oxytocin have been reported to be higher amongst people who claim to be falling in love. Oxytocin has a role in social behaviours in many species, and so it seems likely that it has similar roles in humans. It has been suggested that deficiencies in oxytocin pathways in the brain might be a feature of autism.
  • Maternal behaviour. Sheep and rat females given oxytocin antagonists after giving birth do not exhibit typical maternal behaviour. By contrast, virgin sheep females show maternal behaviour towards foreign lambs upon cerebrospinal fluid infusion of oxytocin, which they would not do otherwise.
  • Various anti-stress functions. Oxytocin reduces blood pressure and cortisol levels, increasing tolerance to pain, and reducing anxiety. Oxytocin may play a role in encouraging “tend and befriend”, as opposed to “fight or flight”, behaviour, in response to stress.
  • Increasing trust and reducing fear. In a risky investment game, experimental subjects given nasally administered oxytocin displayed “the highest level of trust” twice as often as the control group. Subjects who were told that they were interacting with a computer showed no such reaction, leading to the conclusion that oxytocin was not merely affecting risk-aversion (Kosfeld 2005). Nasally-administered oxytocin has also been reported to reduce fear, possibly by inhibiting the amygdala (which is thought to be responsible for fear responses). (Kirsch 2005)
  • According to some studies in animals, oxytocin inhibits the development of tolerance to various addictive drugs (opiates, cocaine, alcohol) and reduces withdrawal symptoms. (Kovacs 1998)
  • Certain learning and memory functions are impaired by centrally-administered oxytocin. (Gimpl 2001)


Like I said before, Oxytocin is serious. When a man triggers it in you, and this is something that happens chemically, unconsciously and naturally, he triggers something in you spiritually too. You form a bond with him that relaxes your normal protective mechanisms… you trust him, without good healthy fear… subvert your natural fight or flight response to provocations in favor of a “tend (give) and befriend” one … and then when you get your heart broken, oxytocin numbs the pain and fucks up your learning and memory functions so you don’t learn from mistakes or remember stuff you should be keeping in mind.  Oxytocin is the story of most bitches’ lives.

The magnetic attraction that first draws you to him, once activated by orgasm is the end for a lot of women.  A dickmatized woman will tear her life to shreds with her bare hands, eat it and then throw herself off a cliff over that dude. We’ve all seen it.

And we’ve all just shook our heads and breathed a biiiiiiiggggggggggg sigh of relief that this time, by the grace of god, it wasnt us… driving nine hundred miles with a diaper on to go holla at  Side Shorty.

Ala Lisa Marie Nowak, that poor woman canonized the patron saint of Every Bitch Dick Made Crazy.

Lisa Marie Nowak (née Caputo) (born May 10, 1963) is a United States naval officer and a former NASA astronaut. Born in Washington, DC, she was selected by NASA in 1996 and qualified as a mission specialist in robotics. Nowak flew aboard Space Shuttle Discovery during mission STS-121 in July 2006 where she was responsible for operating the robotic arms of the shuttle and the International Space Station.Police said Nowak drove 900 miles, donned a disguise and was armed with a BB gun and pepper spray when she confronted a woman she believed was a competitor for the affections of Navy Cmdr. William Oefelein, an unmarried fellow astronaut.Nowak raced from Houston to Orlando wearing diapers in the car so she wouldn’t have to stop to go to the bathroom, authorities said.

Dressed in a wig and a trench coat, she waited for Shipman’s plane to land and then boarded the same airport shuttle bus Shipman took to get to her car, police said. Shipman told police she noticed someone following her, hurried inside the car and locked the doors, according to the arrest affidavit.

Nowak rapped on the window, tried to open the car door and asked for a ride. Shipman refused but rolled down the car window a few inches when Nowak started crying, the statement said. Nowak then sprayed a chemical into Shipman’s car, the affidavit said. Shipman drove to the parking lot booth and police were called.

An officer reported following Nowak and watching her throw away a bag containing the wig and BB gun. Police also found a steel mallet, a 4-inch folding knife, rubber tubing, $600 and garbage bags inside a bag Nowak was carrying when she was arrested, authorities said.

Oefelein and Shipman, who worked at Patrick Air Force Base near the Kennedy Space Center, did not immediately return calls seeking comment.

According to NASA’s official biography, Nowak is a Naval Academy graduate who has a master’s degree in aeronautical engineering. She has a teenage son and younger twin girls.

Oefelein has two children and began his aviation career as a teenager flying floatplanes in Alaska, according to a NASA biography. He studied electrical engineering at Oregon State University and later earned a master’s degree in aviation systems at the University of Tennessee Space Institute. He has been an astronaut since 1998.

Lisa Nowak threw away a balla ass career, a beautiful family, her reputation and basically her entire life’s work over an oxytocin addiction to a man. A woman with the intelligence, self discipline and work ethic it takes to qualify as mission specialist in robotics for NASA hopped in the whup with a diaper on, and drove 900 miles straight without pause to execute what had to be the dumbest plan in the world, to kidnap another woman from an airport (ever heard of Homeland Security and cameras everywhere and especially at the airport recording video that will be looked at when the Side Shorty turned up missing? No??) while wearing an obvious and ridiculous disguise, over a man.

Damn, homie.

But can you really say you didn’t understand just a little bit though when you read that story in the news?

Oxytocin is serious.

The Real Mainstream Media

This is for the next time you hear some bullshit about the mainstream media being “liberal”.

From drudge  report: (FUCK NO I’m not linking that shit, you want to go his site, you do that. )

THURS., APRIL 1, 2010

FOXNEWS BECK 2,014,000
FOXNEWS SHEP 1,658,000
CNN KING 839,000
CNN COOPER 820,000

Tell Lies, Keep Secrets, Play Games or… How To Be a Player

I was talking to my Alter Ego just now about what me and Vicky and Nazima got into this morning. My Alter Ego is my alter ego because I’m a Capricorn with Moon in Aries and She’s an Aries with Moon in Capricorn. We both have Mars in Taurus and she doesnt know her birth time but we look alike enough that I’m willing to bet she’s Libra Asc like me. I can’t think of a suitable psedonym for her and she needs one because her name is unique and instantly recognizable.  And thats’ a problem.

Anyway AE and I were discussing Sour Bitches. She was appalled that I “bought into that shit”. She recognizes that Sour Bitches exist but she thinks they exist because they are i.e. some bitches are just born Sour, they don’t have to be made Sour. What positively sickened her though was that I “bought into” the “macking bullshit”, which is “Ignorant Nigger Nonsense“.

Let me clarify something. My honest opinion of the whole macking, collecting women, harem shit is that its one of the key destroyers of the Black Family.  I didn’t buy into the bullshit, I am merely  trying to understand it.

I have always hated being lumped in with all women. There is nothing that turns me off faster than for somebody to start a thought with “Women all…” or “Why do you women always…?” any blanket statement or stupid generalization based on the percentage of the human female population they know or have heard of. So I’m going to try not to do that but I am going to use biology to show the commonality in all of us women.

Women invest alot of themselves biologically in having children. During pregnancy, the baby takes from you whatever it needs to develop, to the extent of causing your teeth to fall out if it needs the calcium. After the birth, the greater the investment of the biological father in the infant the better the child’s outcomes:

Family structure has important implications for children’s outcomes. Research has shown that, on measures of school achievement and adjustment, children living with other than two biological or adoptive parents are less well-off than children of two parents.

Children raised by single parents or by a parent and a stepparent do less well in school and have more behavior problems (McLanahan and Sandefur 1994).

One of the most important contributors to differential child outcomes is the lower level of resources available to single parent families (Duncan and Brooks-Gunn 1997; McLanahan and Sandefur 1994).

But, if income were the determining factor, it could be expected that children would do as well in two-parent stepfamilies as in two-parent biological families, since the family incomes of children of the former are comparable to those in the latter (McLanahan and Sandefur 1994).

Yet such children are more similar to children in single-parent than to those in two-parent families in terms of their risk of high school drop-out, teen childbearing, and productive activity as young adults (McLanahan and Sandefur 1994).

http://www.psc.isr.umich.edu/pubs/pdf/rr01-471.pdf , “Biological and Stepfather Investment in Children”

If another woman takes the father of your children away, she is depriving your children not just of his immediate presence, she is raising the chances that your child will live a life of negative circumstances – poverty, poor educational quality, instability, themselves becoming a single parent and etc. Also, the poorer you are, the worse the place you live is. Even in the worst ghettoes, the presence of a strong father in the home puts that family on par with those earning multiple times their income in terms of outcomes. Much gets said about strong black women that raise kids  without their father when those children excel but statistically, that is not the norm. The absence of a strong father in the home leads to higher incidences of  gang, criminal and drug involvement as well as every other negative occurance, including suicide, all over the world. Literally, lack of their father’s resources and investment could end up a matter of life and death for your child.

For that reason alone, regardless of how we are raised or taught we should be, on a biological level other women of childbearing age are the competition for resources that you want to secure for your offspring. So, alot of the  hatred women have towards each other is rooted in biology. The competition to secure a pair-bond is rooted in nature.

And, the more women a man is having sex with, the more chances there are mathematically that another woman will take his resources for herself in the form of gifts and shit he tricks off on her or for her children in the form of his time and money.

Therefore it is not logical for a woman capable of reproducing to be okay with her man fucking other women.

The mack-ers seeks to get around this by saying “these women all have their own money and resources and can finance their own children” thereby excusing the man except to the extent that he “can” provide for his child. Not only is this seperation of the mother and child disruptive to the family unit, it also downplays the importance of time, teaching the child day to day life lessons through both example and words and physically caring for the child.

Regardless how good a man’s intentions are there are still only 24 hours in a day and you can only be in one place at one time so the more he has to spread out his resources in terms of time and attention, the less there is for everyone. And its a fact of life that at the end of the day when all is said and done between the man who is fucking a whole bunch of women and now has a whole bunch of kids, some of those kids are going to end up without.

When there are no children involved, the Mack then says its all fun and games. The woman gets the benefit of his energy when he’s around and sexual gratification (when he’s not dick rationing, LMMFAO!!!) and he gets the sexual satisfaction, whatever goods and services she brings to the table as well as the ego stroking of having so many women emotionally attached to him. There’s no recognition of the fact that women need more emotionally than one or two days a week of having a man.

Whether there are or aren’t children involved in the Player scenario, because of the added “Tell Lies” component , the women the player is playing usually believe they are in or will be in a monogamous relationship with him. While the mack-ers seem more fixated on  power over and psychological dominance of a female, the player is out for sex. He gets his fix from getting high numbers of women to have sex with him. The mack-ers  wants the women to know he has a Bitches Collection and to overide their biological aversion to that because he is so powerfully desirable, he can overpower millenia upon millenia of survival programming.

The Play Games component for both men is in getting past the woman’s protective radar for bullshit. The Mack does this by getting inside her head and using whatever he finds there to his benefit. Once he has hooked the woman, the Play Games component is to keep the woman at a disadvantage psychologically and emotionally. In this worldview, women are cunning, hurtful, sneaky and malicious. They are always looking for an opening to castrate a man, take his shit, cuckold him or damage him psychologically. He has to maintain control of the woman by confusing her, outwitting her, sabotaging her and (of course) playing mind games.

The reality though is most women are won over by what they think is sincere interest in them, and the man’s intelligence and potential. They have found a good man it seems and they can envision a future with him.

The Play Games component for the player is in evading women after sex, juggling women and narrowly escaping getting caught and getting women to do things that give him a funny story to tell. His psychological intrigues are for the most part included in the Tell Lies component.

The Keep Secrets component for both of them is the same. Of course, for the player  it intersects with Tell Lies. What they both keep secret is their Self. The player does it to add to his resource display illusion. His good looks are a genetic resource, who doesn’t want a cute baby? As is his jewelry, car, clothes, hood rep, proffession, etc. whatever his lure is. He cannot risk putting a chink in his armor by revealing who he really is above and beyond his resource illusion. The mack does it as part of his Play Games component. To have a pyschological advantage, he draws the woman out into the open while always keeping himself in the shadows.

Women experience these men as emotionally unavailable men in off-kilter relationships where it feels so good when your with him but there is always some nagging sense that something is wrong and because there are always levels where you can’t connect with him, you always feel a longing. What’s fucked up about it is that its the longing that makes you needy and clingy and off-balance. These relationships feel like a USDA serving of your favorite food (where a serving is the size of your thumb and a plate of food is the size of your fists) and then…nothing.  These are the relationships that fuck up your life not just because of the inevitable heartbreak but because of what it does to your faith in and connectedness with your fellow man.

When a man plays you for an asshole and then ridicules you in front of the whole world for not stepping off when his fun is done, its devastating. But I think I figured out a few ways we can outwit the whole process and I will share them wit ya next time.

I tried to be scientific in my dissection, let me know how I did.

Little Pills Poppin’, IQs Droppin’

I am wide up. It is like four thirty in the morning. I want to go to sleep, I’m tired, I feel the beginnings of one of those headaches you get when you break night and I’m worried because I took a Trazadone and I’m STILL up two hours later.

Tomorrow I’m going to kick it with my girl Vicky. Her shit is wrapped very, very, very loosely so she gets pills. In one of the dreams I have when I sleepwalk during the day, she told me before to make a shopping list of what I wanted and she’d get it for me. I want to try concerta. This is to lose weight of course because learn this about me, I will do anything to lose weight.

That being the case why haven’t I lost a pound through anything but exercise?
Because my body is evil and its trying to destroy me. Its like this: I see some must-have pills that promise you will be skinny in five days. I’m hype. I take that shit the first day, the second day, the third day. The fourth day, if I so much as think about some pills my heart starts beating mad hard till its painful, my right elbow aches and feels heavy and I swear I feel the ulcer forming on my kidney. My body is very self-protective.

The only pills that ever worked for me were some I got from my cousin Florence right after I had my 2nd son and I only took them for two weeks before shit hit the fan. Phen Fen was beautiful. Magic. Lovely. And awesome. I  used to take only the orange ones (at least I think they were orange), (the ones that had the magic and therefore had to be fucked with because nothing gold can stay). I’d take one and word to mother, forget to eat for days. They had to go and take that shit off the market?

The cold finally broke so I am going to start jogging again with the goal of building up to running. I was doing hip hop abs with Sean T until my wack ass tv and bogus ass dvd player connived up some shit. I think the cord connecting them was in on it too. And if  it wasn’t, it still knows what happened.

I love Hip Hop Abs. And Shawn T. I wish I knew that dude so bad. I would be at his house practicing dance routines with him all morning, then we would go shop and have lunch, then we’d go get ourselves pampered at a topnotch spa while we had a brief, very very brief conversation about our problems. The convo would go like this:

Me: “Damn so many men want me, I just don’t know who to chose.”

Him: “O M G bitch, did you just say that or did I just say that? Me too!”

Me: “I said that Shawn T, just now when I was talking and you weren’t.”

Him: “Uh uh Missthing, just cause you maaaaaaaaaaad beautiful and your voluptuous yet lean body is perfect and you stay Gucci down to the soles of your flip flops and you have a ranch in Albuquerque, a villa in Key West, a compound in Brooklyn, several succesful businesses, a charitable foundation that really helps people, a warm loving family and 59 grandkids and you drive a smoke gray custom fully kitted BMW 760Li and your astrology book is the best selling astrology book ever does not mean you don’t have to come correct. You know how I stay. ”

Me: “Everything you just said is soooo true! I don’t know why I keep spazzing on you. Shawn T, you’re my best friend.”

Him: “Bitch you is very crazy. Now, this next move is called the Fly Boy Skip. We gon’ take this jumrope…”
And that would be like our make-up sex. Everytime we have one of our little tiffs, he would teach me a new unreleased move from Hip Hop Abs Hardcore: Extreme Pelvic Burn (Is that catchy or what? Don’t use it or I’ll sue your ass.)

My middle daughter just came in here and got in the bed with me and the baby. She is lying diagonal across the bed and her feet are on me, which BLOWS. I’m about to put my two feet on her butt and push her to the other side of the bed. Everybody in this house sleeps like they’re giving God the glory. Everybody in this house except possibly the baby could take  up a whole king sized bed when they lay up.

I moved her over and the baby stretched out like a cat and took my place.

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