I Don't Celebrate Halloween But...

...seeing all these fine women walking the streets with their kids was pretty entertaining. And all I could think about was, "How dare you, my brothas, let your (fine) wives and children be out here all by their lonesome..." I don't celebrate Halloween cuz I don't get into all that demonic shtuff, but as I cruised thru the neighborhood I found that there was much incentive in driving slowly; I saw some of the baddest mothers on earth tonight. Oh yeah... and also for the kids safety, can't forget about the kids...

Next year I'll remember to bring a camera and make a real holiday out of it. How about "Pics for Treats"? lol, lemme stop. Helloween just ain't for me. I need some new distractions to keep me occupied.

All LoveB-)

(Don't worry Mom. Whoever I bring home, she'll be legit. Yeah, more than likely she'll be legit...)

I Felt Like Writing So...

Here I am. I got nothing to say really, cuz pretty much anything I say right now is gonna be negative. There' s no point in saying it then. I got class in 45 minutes. Was gonna try to make up a test today but, nah. Well... we'll see how I feel after class.

I'm loving this cold weather; if it wasn't for the static electricity, I'd have no grievances with it, lol. If I could fly I'd get up as high as I could and dive just to see how cold it gets on the way down. Looking forward to Christmas break; Christmas period. I think I love the season more than the holiday. Even the fake euphoria I see all around me; I'm so used to it that its actually kinda nice. I think I'll just play ignorant this year and go with the flow.

I don't celebrate most of the holidays for one reason or another, whether it be religious or logical. But if I scratch holidays off the calendar, I think I should create holidays to replace 'em.

Welp... 35 minutes before class now. I haven't read my material yet because in all the confusion I misplaced my syllabus. The game plan is get to class about 10-15 minutes early, find anybody with a syllabus, scan the material, and pray for a lecture day.

I finally got a little money out of my savings account. No prollem; I start my job tomorrow and I should replace it with interest by... hm... prolly by the end of next week. First objective: put enough money in to kill that service charge. 500 is the magic number. All the rest I can put in my checking account.

I wanna open up and talk to the people who are my "guardians" now, but I already know what they're gonna tell me. If I feel weak, they'll tell me to feel strong. If I feel lonely, they'll say we're with you. If I feel worried, they'll tell me to pray. If I feel powerless, they'll tell me to trust God. I could be wrong, but sometimes I think people need to feel bad for a little while. That's why I always tell cats "I feel ya" when they talk; I think sometimes all we need is empathy, not necessarily encouragement. I think that's how people set themselves up for breakdowns sometimes. Of course don't stay in your sorrow, but to just iron over it like it's not there, that's dangerous. I'd rather hurt now and work thru it than stick my chest out only to get it caved in later.

The only time I encourage people is when there is an unavoidable, undelayable task at hand that they must deal with immediately. And even then, when it's over, I encourage them to take some downtime. I don't feel like being strong right now. I feel like going to sleep for a week, and I'll get back to living next week. No phone calls, no visits, no advice, no sentiments; just let me disappear.

lol... I can't even fast properly with these people around me. They're already telling me to eat as if I'm starving myself (I can't help it; I have an extremely high metabolism). And I can't tell them "leave me alone; I'm fasting" because when you fast no one's supposed to know. Eh...

23 minutes left. I found a dollar when I stepped out of the car today; right after I came back from the bank. Dunno what to make of it. I'd like a dog or something (bump "or something", make it a dog) but I can't afford to keep one right now. Maybe in time. Hot new game Soul Calibur III just came out. Might be a nice distraction; and survey says distraction is the last thing I need right now. Think I want some legit nunchaku instead of the training set I have. Gotta get back in shape and keep up appearances after all. I think I lost weight this week. ANd I was only about 130 to begin with.

In life, sometimes it seems that there is no right way but to do as you're told. If so, that strikes me as a pretty sad existence. I feel like going back to my old cold self again: not having to worry about anybody else's interests or influences; intimidating people to the point that they won't even sit next to me. I miss those days sometimes.

Being in the country felt nice, but MAN going back to the country would suck. Well, maybe not. I guess it depends on who I'm with.

16 minutes left. Gotta skate. I'll drop a more cohesive blog later... if i feel it...

There Are Worse Things

When I lost my cousin Michael in 1997 death was a new thing for me; I hoped it would never happen again. Then, not much later, I lost my cousin Ciera. Still, death was so infrequent that I got used to it not being around. But, ladies and gentlemen, since 2003 I've lost my Grandmother, my Grandfather, my close cousin, and JUST YESTERDAY buried my mother. Death is a fact as if life is an act. Quote me.

So what now? Live in the shadow of unavoidable death? What for? Anybody that knows me knows that if I feel threatened by anything, the first thing I do is study it. Well... you shoulda been with me when I lost my cousin Mike back in '97; I've already frisked Death--- suicide too for that matter. I know what life and death are all about; I know what existence and non-existence are all about; I know what time and running out of time are all about. But these are subjects for another day's journey, and I'm glad.

No, today I'm going to add another dimension to the study of death. Today, let's talk about suffering. And I warn you; if you're don't have a strong relationship with God, don't read any further, cuz you'll prolly misinterpret my words and kill yaself. For real. Seriously...

Now from the jump, I must offer this precept as a prerequisite: I am a Christian and I believe wholeheartedly the Word of God and what it says pertaining to the afterlife; salvation comes by accepting Jesus Christ as your Lord and Savior and this is the only means of gaining Heaven and avoiding Hell. If you don't believe that, then this isn't for you. When my mom died, I watched her heave for days with no progress. Then she passed. Now ask me what was worse: the last few moments, or death itself? When you love someone, the last thing you ever want them to experience is pain. When we live, we experience pain. When we die, we don't experience pain. Fair enough? So, assuming that you're a Christian bound for rest in death and Heaven afterward, how is it possible that death is worse than suffering?

I shed most of the tears for my mom while watching her gasp for air and watching nurses wipe blood from her teeth and hearing her groans and gurgles. Wouldn't you? So when she passed, all I know is there was no gurglng, no blood, no gasping. Just rest. If anything, Death was a deliverer if you ask me. I know that, as she struggled, she was a testimony to the power of God to sustain us; in dying, I say she was a testimony of the power of God to deliver us. But don't you realize then when we die our problems die with us? That cancer won't see another sunrise. Guess what though... My mom will. Because she knew the Lord.

Death isn't so fearsome. Matter of fact, to the Christian, he's a friend. Matter of fact, the Christian never truly experiences death because true death is separation from God, not merely ceasing to breathe. Where God is, there is life, and that's where my mom is. So how "dead" is she? She didn't die; she only passed away. But the cancer that merely ended her time here... it's gone forever. I may be wrong, but her suffereing here on earth proved to me that there are worse things than passing away.

The Melinda Parade

At 11:30 this morning my mother, Melinda Williams, entered into rest. I never thought it would end so soon; I'll never understand how she deserved this. But what I want to do right now is tell you what I've learned: about who my mom was, is, and will always be.

My mom was a warrior, and I never knew it until now. It really hit me when I saw her there on the hospital bed, barely breathing, eyes unfocused, body depleted, head hairless , mouth bleeding. She was nearly unconscious, and I asked her the dumb question, "Mom... how are you?" You know what she told me? She said, "Blessed. I'm blessed. God is good. He's blessing me." It was right then that I thought about how brave, how strong, how determined my mom was. I grew up in an environment where religion was frowned upon. It was my mom who decided that wasn't good enough for me and my sister. And she moved us from that amid the frowns of tradition and gossip.

It was my mom, when the family was bickering, that stood as a neutral ground and loved everyone wiht a spirit of unity. And all the years she spent in the school system changing lives... One of my mom's students from wwaaaaaaayyy back sat right there in the hospital with her from start to finish.

It hurts me that, in spite of the good she did, she never saw the best of things. She wasn't there to see it that night when my older cousins got together with me and my little sister and we all sat at a table together for the first time in years; she wasn't there when my dad came to me and my sister and told us "I love you"; she wasn't there when her side of the family and my dad's side of the family finally reunited. She was the reason for all these things, and now she won't be around to enjoy it... Why does it always take tragedy to make us put our pride behind us?

So now, there's me and my litle sister. And I'm determined that between us we will carry on her legacy. She fought to glorify God in her lifestyle; she fought to teach love to all and to be a living witness to the power of love; she fought to pass her faith and her love to her children. I am a love warrior because she was a love warrior, and I never realized it until her final battle. And I am determined to keep her legacy alive at all costs.

So this is a Parade for you Ma. We will celebrate you until we join you.

Strawberry-Pecan Bread and a Side of Coffee

I guess I'll begin by sketching the situation: my mom is waaaay under the weather... Like WAAAAAY under. She's been in the CCU for close to a week now, and it's been a Vivian Green scene, ya dig? Emotional Rollercoaster.

Between the praying and the tears and the hopefulness and dashed hopes, I needed something to distract me. So I found a recipe for Strawberry Pecan Bread on the Net the other day. Wasn't gonna cook it until later, but after botching the biscuit recipe I told you about on my second attempt (see Sour Milk: A Lesson on Resourcefulness) in my rush to get back to the hospital, I said, "Why not..."

Actually, I still said "Later..." but my little sis was up to it so I let her take the lead. She got started and did most of the egg-breaking and mixing. I broke up the pecans and mixed when the batter got too thick. Then we both distributed the batter into two long glass pans. Little did we know it would be the best thing we could've done at the time.

I glanced once while it was cooking and the bread looked FRIGGIN AWESOME. I couldn't believe we had done it. Close to time to pull it out, we thought we had burned it when we saw the surface had slightly darkened and the edges had become seared. Thinking we'd have to scrape the edges off, we found that they were actually quite soft. That's when we knew we were in business. Then came the taste test, and it tasted FRIGGIN AWESOME. How awesome we wouldn't know until the next day, but even that night at 2:00 am, I knew we had some good stuff.

Then came the morning. Instead of keeping the bread for ourselves like we planned, we brought the pans to the hospital with us for the family to try. It was a hit! They said it was "sweet, but not too sweet", and everybody got a decent-sized piece. Nobody had had breakfast, so it was a great start for the day. Then my aunt decided to get a cup of coffee with her bread. She took a sip and a bite and told us to try it... OH MY GOODNESS, IT WAS FRIGGIN AWESOME. The coffee and Strawberry-Pecan Bread complimented each other so well they were irresistable together.

So now, I'm sitting here at home, eating the second-to-the-last piece of the Strawberry-Pecan Bread (I saved the last and biggest piece for my sister). I've got my coffee right next to my mouse, and my only wish is that my mom makes it to get to try it for herself. I'll catch ya'll later, I'm gonna go visit before class.

All Love

Oh Yeah
P.S. - I got a call for an interview the other day and had it this morning. Think it went pretty well. If all goes, I'll have a pretty solid job soon and be a little more self-sufficient. All Praise to the Trinity.

CLIPPERS WIN!!!

Yeah... I got in a fight with some clippers today and lost BIG TIME. Tryna cut my own hair for once; gashed my head right on up. Thank the Good Lord for family...

Shout out to the homie Gator for coming thru for a brotha; couldn't have gone back in public without cha, lol. But while mentioning cuzzin Gator and clippers, me and Gator stayed up all night watching the reruns of the Barbershop series on Showtime. Reeeaal funny, thought-provoking, and downright tasteless stuff there. My favorite line of the night has to be when the old cat is jiving on the Black Conservative's outfit: "SISssieee SHOoooes..." I was diggin the show, but you know what really held my attention: that one fiesty chick, "Terri". ...Yeah, she kept a brotha plenty int'rested, lol. I dunno, ladies with emotional problems hold my attention for some reason.

All LoveB-)

P.S. - Dag... this is actually my 50th post cats! I told ya'll: responses or no responses, it DON'T stopB-P

The Bombest Documentary I Ever Did See...

I saw a wild documentary about two months ago. It was a bout a war on a savannah in Africa. But it wasn't a war with weapons and people; it was a war between the predators of the savannah. See, as it is with most things in life, there's a balance of power that exists between predators on the savannah. But this documentary is an account of what happened when a famine disintegrated the established hierarchy and it was every creature for itself.

The key players, in order of predatorial rank, are as follows:

The Pride of Lions; The Pack of Hyenas; The Solitary Leopard; The Solitary Cheetah; The Pack of Wild Dogs; The Scavenger Vultures.

This is how the predators are normally ranked, not just by man, but according to each other; for instance, an animal of the lower rank will usually retreat from a carcass in the presence of a predator of higher rank for his own sake. But the only reason these "peace demonstrations" go on is because there is food to go around... When famine hits the savannah, the prey that the predators feed on starve or leave the area and food becomes sparse. Thus, war breaks out over the meager servings left, and the hierarchy becomes unstable.

So who emerges as the biggest winner? Well, there are several battles, skirmishes, and negotiations waged to declare a "wartime king". I will now review several of them:

The Pride of Lions vs. The Pack of Hyenas
When I saw the Lion King as a youngster, I thought beef between lions and hyenas was a bogus concept, assuming, "no competition". I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the animosity between lions and hyenas was very real and that hyenas were very serious competition. There was a skirmish between a group of lionesses on the hunt and a pack of hyenas that actually led to a lioness casualty!

But then I discovered the trump card of the pride: the male lion. It wasn't the first time, but they refer to the male lion as "the hyena-killer". When he arrives, it's no longer a competition between the pride and the pack; it's a one-man show and he takes no prisoners. The male lion broke the backs of several hyenas.

In one cruel scene, a hyena pup is injured and incapacitated, not providing a meal or a threat to any of the lions. The male lion hears it's yelp, and out of sheer animosity sneaks up on it and breaks its neck and leaves it to rot. Victory - The Pride of Lions

The Pack of Hyenas vs. The Pack of Wild Dogs
The Wild Dog Pack is a funny bunch. They're not the fastest, nor are they the strongest predators on the savannah; they're the most tenacious and persistent. They don't catch their usually much faster prey; they simply chase it until it gets tired. They've got guts to be so small though, and it's shown when they battle the Pack of Hyenas. The size difference is obvious, with the hyenas being larger and stronger. But the wild dogs challenge the hyenas anyway.

To be so small, the wild dogs take hits fairly well and make a competition of the match without inflicting much damage on their opponents. But, out of sheer hopelessness, the dogs eventually relent and find food elsewhere, as they're a very mobile, nomadic group compared to the more territorial hyenas. Victory - The Pack of Hyenas

The Solitary Leopard vs. The Pride of Lions
This was a beautiful encounter. On the books, the Solitary Leopard is outnumbered and outgunned physically by even the smallest member of the Pride. But the Leopard has one advantage: it's hunting method. When it gets it's jaws on prey, it uses it's powerful hind legs to climb the nearest tree and feast in peace. This made for an interesting turn of events... The confrontation with the Pride was actually an indirect one. The lionesses were in another skirmish with hyenas for the remains of a medium-sized prey. The leopard took advantage of the opportunity and stole the prey, retreating to the nearest tree as usual.

Most of the time, this would be the end of the conflict and the lionesses would find food elsewhere. But the famine pressures one lioness to climb the tree as well and retrieve the prey. The leopard only threatens, but allows the lioness to take her prey back. But there is an ironic twist: on the way down the tree, the lioness finds that she is not equipped like the leopard to tow heavy prey and make climbs. As she descends the tree, she slips and breaks her back on a branch. She dies instantly, dangling with her foot caught in the tree!

Need more shock? The next day, the pride of lionesses returns to retrieve their fellow lioness' body... and eat it... The leopard doesn't get the meal, but he does demonstrate his dominion over the higher reaches. Victory - The Solitary Leopard

The Scavenger Vultures vs. The Solitary Leopard
The Scavenger Vultures had a rough time during this famine; after all, in a famine where are you really gonna find leftovers? In this incident, the leopard attempts to feast on a carcass too big for it to move on it's own. Since it can't move it, it attempts to eat it right where it is. But the vultures see the opportunity and begin to make aggressions toward the leopard. Of course the leopard is stronger, but it is solitary and it can't fend off all the vultures at once. What occurs is a stalemate; the vultures feast on one side, the leopard feasts on the other. Draw Match

The Solitary Cheetah vs. The Pack of Hyenas
This is one of the biggest upsets of the War on the savannah. The Solitary Cheetah, though regarded highly as one of the premier big cats for its speed, is not a very fierce competitor. There is a confrontation between a few hyenas and a cheetah over a carcass. Ordinarily, all it takes is a strong opponent or several opponents to make a cheetah depart; after all, departing is its department because who could catch it, right? But in a freakish turn of events, the situation becomes a standoff: the fast but unarmed cheetah versus the power and teeth of the hyenas!

The cheetah begins to put on the biggest bluff in the world! It guards the carcass with ferocity, biting into it one moment, and darting at the encroaching hyena pack the next moment. Should all out combat have broken out, the cheetah would have surely been defeated. But this act was enough to convince the hyenas it was not worth it to pursue the carcass! That's even more significant considering that there is a famine and food is scarce; I would liked to have seen a conflict erupt to see if the cheetah was truly bluffing. Victory - The Solitary Cheetah

The Pride of Lions vs. The Solitary Cheetah
The Solitary Cheetah got lucky on one occasion, but the famine didn't make it totally crazy. One incident found it standing between it's newly captured meal and the encroaching Pride of Lions. The cheetah may have been perturbed, but it didn't show it. It gracefully bowed to it's physical and numerical superior without a fight. Victory - The Pride of Lions


Now I present my verdict. Judging by the adaptations of the predators involved and the results of the various battles that ensued on the savannah, I surmise that in "war times" of famine, the Solitary Leopard is the King of the savannah. This is due to the adaptation of carrying its prey into the trees where it is inaccessible to the average predator without large risk.

The Wartime Hierarchy: The Solitary Leopard; The Pride of Lions; The Pack of Hyenas/The Solitary Cheetah; The Pack of Wild Dogs; The Scavenger Vultures.

I'm gonna try to catch that documentary again, because I think I missed a skirmish between the leopard (with its mate) and the hyena pack that also resulted in a leopard victory. Don't you find something symbolic about the way leopards survive by taking their prey into trees...

Jesus PeaceB-)

Girl of My Dreams

A mad dash into the unknown, barefoot across the quicksands of time...

A wild, fruitless escapade, driven by sensation but lacking sensibility...

A fierce, reckless romance... That's the best way I can describe it.

You see, as I crush on this girl and that girl in my search for Ms. Right, I already have a thing going on... I'm not a player at all though; I'm actually very much in love. It's a rocky relationship; together we walk a frayed tightrope dangling over an endless nothing. This love constantly hangs in the balance, and any day we could lose it all.

'Matter of fact, in my heart I've accepted that losing is a very real possibility. The chances of us lasting seem to lie out of our reach, and it seems like so many people and circumstances are working against us. But I think about the old saying, "It is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved..." Then I tell my love that, even if I am to lose her, I'm thankful that I ever knew her.

She's so beautiful--- always changing, always new. And no matter where I am in life, she's right there with me. When I'm lost in barren lands, she is a maiden that offers me water from a secret oasis. When I'm drowning, she comes like a mermaid's kiss, sustaining me long enough to surface. When I'm fighting for my life, she is a rogue in the night that steals me out of harms way, even if only for a second. And when I'm on top of the world, she stands beside me as a glowing, regal empress.

I'm in love with her; I'm in love with my dreams. The dreams of what I am to become... The dreams of who I am to become... The dreams of who my true love is to be... The dreams of what I am to accomplish...

As much as I want this love to last, I don't know if my dreams will come true. But if we lose this game, at least we had a beautiful run. There may be better things out there for the both of us; there may also be worse things. But right now, all we have is each other. If this is just a fling, then I want to see it to the end.

Sour Milk: A Lesson on Resourcefulness

Okay... I'm looking in my refrigerator today right? I'm seeing two quarts of milk: expiration dates September 30th and October 9th. For the record, today is October 13th. You guessed it... I have two quarts of spoiled milk in my 'fridge.

Well that's not very resourceful of me, right? I should've finished those off instead of wasting money like that... Yep, but look closer. Sour milk isn't good for drinking, no. But it would be a waste to throw em out. Look up "sour milk recipes" in any Internet search engine. Now... DO YOU SEE HOW MANY CULINARY USES THERE ARE FOR SOUR MILK?!

Moral of the Story: Keep your eyes open; Functional-Fixedness is a disease.

Now who wants biscuits... and chocolate cakes... and doughnuts... griddles... gingerbread... muffins... waffles... pancakes... coffee cakes...



Update: It's 3:50, and 7 sour milk biscuits are left on the stove; 1 cup of sour milk yielded 8.5 biscuits kids! 'Tell you how gutter this was... brotha didn't have any shortening so brotha improvised and used peanut butter. Brotha didn't have a cookie cutter so brotha used the ringed top of a mason jar. The batter was very uncongealed (it melted right off in water), but I took that as a good sign. So I popped the biscuits in the 450 degree oven.

Then, as Emeril would put it, BAM! It was a wrap. They came out golden-brown, no scorching or burning. I oiled the pan up so when they came out the popped right off. They looked hard, but they were actually perfectly textured---right between crispy and soft.

Only drawback, the saltiness of the peanut butter made the biscuits a little too salty. Next time I think I'll totally forfeit the added salt and just use straight PB. Also, I was dissapointed that the peanut butter flavor didn't make it thru, though the smell was there. Overall, a good and resourceful experience...

All LoveB-P(<-------salty tongue...)

The Hillsinger of Highland Park

Strange... So many challenges I'm facing right now. So much frustration. So much turmoil. And yet... after today, I realize that e'ythang's cool. Of course I trust God to work things out eventually, but it's the need for relief in the meantime...

Anywasy, my mom had another doctor's appointment today. The plan was to leave her at my aunt's while I went to class and then I'd take her to the doctor's after I returned. But she ended up feeling too bad to go thru with it, so she never made it. Still, we went to my aunt's house with the intention of going. Something about my aunt's house...

Well, I'll start by saying this... It's my aunt's house now, but my Grandma and Grandpa were its owners for most of my life. They raised 5 kids in it, then the kids of those kids, and some of the kids of those kids. Mmmman that house... In my frustration today, I did something that I haven't done in a long time: I told my aunt, "I'll be in the backyard." Outside, the air was very cool, hanging lightly with dampness. There was no sun in the sky, only soft, white sky. The breeze was perfect, just like it used to be...

I can't explain it, but I could feel my soul distributed all over this place. I feel more sentimental attachment to this place than the very house I grew up in. It made me think back to the days when me and my friends would toss a football or wrestle or play kick ball, or just chill in the backyard. 'Remembered the 5th grade party I threw when I graduated with some of my oldest friends: Tony, Damion, Ebony, Floyd, Kevin, Gilbert, Yari, Charles, Crystal, Montrel, Mario, Nicole (coincidentally, I ran into Nicole at the gas station today, lol). And I thought about some of my later friends who would come by and spend their days on the porch: Rochelle, Robert, Omar... so many friends knew that house.

I thought about trying to jump the fence like we used to, but as an older man I find I'm more cautious now than I was then; I notice things like spider webs, lol. I visited the plum trees, and even though they were out of season I searched each one for the slightest orange or red or pink color. I went to the old brick hibachi; it hadn't been used since before I was born I think. Me and my friends used to climb on it, so I instinctively climbed on top of it and stood on the edge of it's unsteady bricks. As I leapt down and received a sharp twinge in my foot, I remembered the days when I felt invincible and would leap from anything.

Then, as I bypassed the newly added shed trying to remember the first shed my Grandpa owned, I gazed up at the huge oak tree in the corner of the backyard. "Dag... you seemed so much bigger back then..." My homie "Lil Tony" I think was the first to climb that tree when the kickball got stuck up there one day. I was never brave enough. As I crouched down beneath the tree, I tried to remember how big the world seemed when I was knee-high; but even while crouching, I felt so much bigger.

I went back inside and took a seat, feeling like a youngster, and my aunt said the strangest thing: "Time seems to be moving so slow all of a sudden." Maybe my wish came true. I gazed at the clock on the recently-added gas-electric stove; I remember it used to be an old, clicking gas stove that required assistance from a match to get crackin. Grandma used to make the best biscuits, cornbread, and pancakes with it (she would call the pancakes "cornbread" too). And MAN her pear preserve...

The main hall was right next to the stove, and as I looked from one end to the other, I thought about the family get-togethers we'd had in the past. Christmas's and Thanksgivings when everybody got along and would try to out-talk each other; fighting with my older cousin Donnie on every occasion; watching Donnie fighting with his little sister Tangy and with my other cousin Ketrina. And I thought to myself, "Man, if only she was still here... Matter of fact if Ketrina, Mike, Grandma, AND Grandpa..." And I just thought about how many family members I've seen go down that hallway in my lifetime. How did we all ever fit in that one house?!

I felt a little tired, so I curled up in my seat and perched my head on my arms, halfway falling asleep. My aunt was cooking some salmon, and she was singing as she always had. That's when it hit me that she always had. Ever since I was little, my aunt's voice has always been there; not singing aloud and drawing attention to itself, but a steady croon with a beautiful vibrato and a nonchalant pursuit of melody. Nobody in my family has really ever talked about my aunt's beautiful voice, and today I realized that it's a shame nobody has. So I asked, "How long have you been singing, Bunch? Did you sing like this when you were a child too?" She said she had, and she went on to tell me how the people she's worked with have inquired at numerous times; she would sing on her job too. But they'd always tell her, "Keep on singing; it's very pleasant." And indeed it is. I think my aunt is the most soulful person in my whole family. Maybe that's why I've always liked being around her so much.

My Grandma and Grandpa's house... The remnant of a beautiful love story... The beginning of so many other stories... The home of the Hillsinger of Highland Park... And though my story has taken me so far away from Hillsinger, somehow going back there feels so relevant to me getting past this stage in my life. I think I was meant to be there today.

My Brothas (Keep it Up!)

Just thought I'd talk about a brief experience I had today...

I went to church like always, and we got a gaggle of people that gave their lives to Christ and joined the church at the end of service. One of em was a guy from the church I started out at, so that was real cool; maybe the rest of my family, friends, and familiars will join one day. I remember him from when I was reeeeeeal little, but I never knew his name til I shook his hand a few weeks ago. I wasn't sure it was him because he has a fiance now, which he brought up with him; I don't think she was at the old church back then. I was surprised he remembered me, though. There was also another young cat who came up with his wife to change their memberships. It's always inspiring to me to see brothas bring their families; it keeps me hopeful.

Then there was one brotha who was just accepting Christ for the first time. After service I was driving home and saw the brotha walking down the street. It was a long walk, so I decided to swing around and offer the cat a ride. He was a real cool dude. He was tellin me how he was just tired of drinking and smoking and his same old routine. He didn't wanna spend the rest of his life on that course. It did a lot for me to hear him say that. Kinda put things back in perspective. I know he'll find what he's looking for now that he want's Christ in his life.

Maybe we could get to be friends too, but if not that's cool; not to exclude the ladies, but it's just comforting to know there are still brothas searching for something better. I take my hat off to those brothas and I want them to know that, if they ever decide to let Christ into their lives, they WILL find what they are looking for. And as always...

...All LoveB-)

Where I Wanna Be...

Dag... Tomcats and Kitties, I'm realizing more and more that I'm much more of a country-boy than I know. See, I was raised between South Carolina and Georgia; between Bettis Academy and Richmond County; between rural and urban/suburban. I love the city because I love activity. I'm young, and I like to know I can go out and do some urbanish things ya know? But I think somewhere inside me, I have the urge to go outside, get dirty, inhale the dust, and shout knowing that nobody will hear me. Don't get me wrong, I love where I am. But every now and then I wanna run wild like I used to when I was a kid.

But I'm a little different than I was when I was a kid tho. It's not the rural scene I grew up in that I'm looking for. You know where I wanna be right now? Lemme show you...

I wanna be in a spacious, wooden, dojo-like building with barely any walls except for a few sheets of rice paper. Make it in the late fall, when the leaves have all turned brown and fallen and the breeze is just above chilly and the air is dry. As the breeze rustles the leaves outside, it graces the halls inside and joins me as I sit Indian style at a low table. I'm pouring strong, piping green tea from a small kettle into a small cup; backwards, the way some Easterners do it. No processed sugar, only natural honey as a sweetener. But I don't like mine too sweet, so I settle for a half a teaspoon. I'm wearing a sleeveless cotton shirt and some baggy pants; not sagging, but a little large for comfort.

At the table with me is a wise old man with much experience. I tell him about my views and concerns, and he advises me, even agreeing with me at points to let me know I'm not as crazy as people treat me sometimes. We even get in a good game of dominoes, lol.

As noon approaches, I set off about my daily. I get in a little bit of training with the bokken (wooden sword) and go off in search of the familiars. As I travel up and down the dirt roads chewing on sugarcane, I see the are trees bearing nuts and fall fruits. I catch a friendly young lady trying to collect food in a basket, so I pitch in for a little while and we talk. We decide to meet up later on in the evening.

Meanwhile, I'm off to visit some friends of mine: a musician, a poet, a philosopher, and a comedian. We wander to the marketplace to meet people, namely of the female variety. We don't really get into anything though; we look at the shops, maybe buy a thing or two. Later, we find a place to sit and start tossing wits at each other, debating issues, telling jokes, and freestyling.

In the evening, we head back to my place with a group of people. I swing by the young lady's house I met earlier and invite her to join. The old man comes out, and for the rest of the night, we gather on the porch and the musician and I entertain the people. When the moon gets high, everybody clears out, and I close out the night in the moonlight sweeping off the porch while listening to the crickets.

Maybe the next day I'll wake up and plant somethin'. Yeah, maybe I'll be farmer and grow my own food. Who knows...


That's where I wanna be right now. But since I can't be there, I guess I'll settle for an open window.

Recovered: Second Transmission to B.Cataclysmic

"Everything happens for reasons". That's my spin on the cliche, and I think it's more appropriate don't you? Anywasy, sorry we got disconnected, Samurai. But I know now that it was meant to be; today I came across something that definitely needs to be included in this transmission.

I'll start with where I was yesterday. Cat, if I hang around this place any longer, it's gonna break me; I can feel it. I'm the most logical playa on earth homie: where's the logic in doing what everybody else is doing? Doesn't the Bible say "wide is the road that leads to destruction"? So why the heck should we ever be where the majority is? And then there's the ever popular "if God is for us, then who can be against us?" So many people think they have our best interests in mind, but I like to think it's more important to be in line with the One who KNOWS what's in our best interest.

But I understand us moving so slowly. After all, neither of us is 100% certain that we're in line with God. That's the danger of being a thinker; sometimes it's hard to separate faith and logic. At the same time, the logic we share doesn't seem to register to other people, so it's gonna take faith for us to follow up on it, right?

Let's face it: you and I both know our "superiors" are gonna have a prollem with pretty much anything we do outside of their ability to comprehend. It's like, that faith they talk about is fine until the rubber meets the road----dag, another cliche--- but then we see who's real about this faith thing and who's playin. In the past, out of respect, we showed obedience and allowed ourselves to be contained; we prayed for a smooth transition. But maybe the time has come for our allegiences to shift, for better or worse. I know what's in my heart, 'feel me; ain't tryna hurt nobody... But I don't think we can please everybody this go-round.

So where do we go from here? The only thing I can think to do is whatever we have in mind and heart to do, Samurai. The picture is unclear; the way is shrouded. But maybe this is just our Jordan to cross, ya know? It's funny... Pastor just preached on this topic: making it to the Promised Land in your life. It usually requires a trademark leap of faith (dag, ANOTHER cliche! ugghhh...). And the only parachute you might have is Him.

You wanna hear something else funny? Today I turn on the radio, right? (u know I never listen 2 radio) And I come across this cat, Michael Baisden. He spends the whole show talking about this very thing, homie. He was urging cats to get up and be about theirs... let go of those restraints.

Now you know ya boy Jig is gonna be tactful at all times, but maybe it's time to kiss all spectators goodbye. Whatever move you decide to make, I'ma meet u halfway, and I'm sure vice versa.

Now lemme send this joint before the BloggerMonster eats it again...

All Love and Jesus PeaceB-)

Thumbing My Nose Now...

This is what happens, some call it rappin'
I call it grappling with situations I'm trapped in
Typing it is easier than wasting a napkin

Sending a second transmission to B. Cataclysmic
The signal was interrupted to my dislike, which was hiss-like
Despite, I had to write, so later on this night I started
Recalling the information this message was set to start wit

But it had long departed, maybe I'm in the wrong department
Somebody got somethin' against me speaking what my heart meant
But nah, I won't get bent, I got a strong back to fall on
Matter fact, that's part of my problem, the first witness I should call on

My homie Swim, cuz no one knows my hate for school more than him
Rigt now he's wondering if his fate is grim in the land of Academ
Sim sim, I wish I could go underground like the secret of NIMH
Disappear at my whim and reappear back in high school gym

I shoulda been a jock; oblivious to the ways of thinkers
I'm beginning to empathize more and more with smokers and drinkers
Empathize tho, not sympathize, just thought I'd put on my blinkers
Before pasty complexities get any pinker

The zinger, the dead ringer amounts to another dead end for me
Think the world has it in for me, it's deeper than the blues can see
Gee... should I be worried, my vision is blurry
That's the wind in my eye from suckas seeing me hurried

Now I'm really bout to scurry, like a rat, so women don't scream
I'm adorable when you take the time to look, but that's all a dream
Insert special effects here, I'm letting off smoke and steam
Life is a laughing gas like Blazing Saddles and pork and beans

A Transmission to B.Cataclysmic

Long time no see, Samurai. How ya holdin up? I'm sure you're cool; but it's always hard to tell what goes on past that stoicism...

Anywasy, I'm hittin you up because I'm pickin up a weird vibe, which prolly means you've already caught on to it. Lemme tell you about my day: worst first, another of your high school homies might have passed away man. I'll look more into it. I did the class gig, then ended up making several trips before I got home. While burning a motherlode of gas I was listening to some conscious MCs get down on this album my cuzzin passed me. 'Cat... they came HARD on that joint. You were a battle MC and all so I don't know how you woulda taken it, but they had me shook. It was like, "Man, I'm starting to feel obsolete. Have we missed our window already?"

I was kinda frustrated cuz we planned to do our bit waaaay back when, remember? Back when we were teens, we wanted to use our age to reach a younger audience; that was our unique angle at the time. I guess God didn't see fit to let that happen; or maybe we screwed up along the way. Who knows...

Remember how we were ahead of the curve? How we loved trying new things when most cats were content with the regular unleaded? But after hearing these cats get down, it feels like we don't have that cushion anymore. That's just my surmising tho; you prolly know better than me...

I know how you hate roundabouts, so lemme get to the point. ...I'm not gonna lie, General; as I listened to these advanced lyricists, I started reconsidering our trajectory, if u know what I mean. Like maybe it's time to hang it up. But then I thought about it: we're not here to compete with anybody. First of all, conscious MCs for the most part are on OUR side, right? They keep the minds of the people open by spitting what they spit. Secondly, it's not a popularity contest that we're in. We're not here to put ourselves in the limelight; it's all about the cause, right? To God be the glory. And finally, while these cats were dropping the knowledge and lacing tracks with jewels, nothing was being done to make change. We're not here just to complain; we're here to speak life. That's the difference that makes us unique, and we gotta demonstrate it...

... So now that I've thought it thru, I'm not shook anymore, 'Cat. We gotta do what we were born to do, independent of what everyone else is doing. We didn't make it as youths, but we gotta let God have His room to work, right? So I'm just writing this to let you know what's on my mind. I understand where we are relative to what's out there, and you should know that I don't have any hang-ups once we hit the battlefield. You can trust me to deliver with no hesitation. It's like you said in a rhyme a long time ago, "I ain't gotta be the best, all I gotta do is follow my instructions, speak it from the chest..." Let's make that the credo so we don't ever doubt ourselves again; well, so I don't doubt myself again, at least. Once again, you've already got it under control, right? lol...

All Love and Jesus Peace, homieB-)

Love Conquers Lust, Right-On

On one hand, this might turn out to be a racy topic. On another hand, it's a topic that people of all ages deal with, whether silently or openly. Whatever... it's gotta be said...

I believe... In fact, I KNOW that love conquers lust. And I'm not saying this to be cliche in a "love conquers all" kind of way. Follow me on this journey, but I warn you that I'm not sure where I'm going...

Lust is something I think most people struggle with; it's seeking to indulge in something pleasureable, whether it be a lust for power or a lust for moeny. In this case, I'm talking about sensual lust. If you're a teenager, unless you have a hormone imbalance or something, you've been here to some degree. If you are an adult, you USED to be a teenager, so don't play like I'm speaking French; after all, some adults never left that teenage lifestyle.

I'm gonna take you on a trip thru my mind as I contemplated something you might see as risque, but I promise you it has merit. Yeah, I have lustful thoughts sometimes. As long as the world around me presents sensual images, I'll probably have those now and again. But I fight these thoughts tooth and nail. Well, I had one of those thoughts recently, and I began trying to kill it from my mind. But I couldn't shake it, no matter how i tried. All my weaponry was only delayng it, and it wouldn't go away.

But, as I began to lose hope of defeating it, I found a new weapon. See, fighting it with morality and rationality wasn't doing it; it wasn't until I fought it from the bottom of my heart that I was able to put it behind me. What did I find in the bottom of my heart that defeated this great urge? It was love, people. Simply love.

Here's where it may get a little testy, but walk with me please. I thought about two scenarios: a "lustful encounter" with a stranger and a "loving encounter" with a wife. My eyes were opened so easily! See, in a lustful encounter, sex is just a moment's pleasure. It's the act, the climax, and that's it; the name of the game, and I do mean game, is to fill the fleshly desire and be done with it. And when you think about it, the experience is incomplete; you're performing an act of lust in search of love and meaning that's just not there. When a person sleeps around casually, the special bond of love is not present in the sexual experience. That's why they continue to sleep around, hoping that somehow doing the same thing will produce different results. And they end up getting addicted to the act itself and mistake that for love.

But a loving encounter between two people who are commited to each other, and who have no guilt because they're justified with God... that's a beautiful thing. I think about the kisses and caresses and loving words that would mean nothing to people who weren't commited to each other... It's something that goes beyond the flesh's fleeting desires; even when the act is over, the love continues. It goes beyond the superficial beauty of a stranger that fades with the morning. And the great thing about it... when the desire returns, it naturally falls in line with the direction of your love, and you can just let it go. In light of the loving encounter, the lustful encounter begins to look so inferior!

My pondering took me back to the fact that sex in itself is not a bad thing. It's the context that makes difference. Lust-motivated sex outside of God's will (premarital sex, extramarital sex) makes sex a bad thing; Love-motivated sex inside of God's will (between a husband and wife) makes sex a good thing. And I don't think having to wait is meant to be the "punishment" people make it out to be; the experience is so much more rewarding when it happens the right way.

So now, when lust descends on me, I have a weapon that really works! Because when you understand the beauty of love, taste of lust no longer fills you, and you lose your appetite for it. I feel so free now. And it's all because of what God has shown me about love.

So when I say "All Love", maybe now you see how much it really means to me. Not only is love my inspiration, as I said in Quest for Fire IV, but love is also my salvation. And now it means so much more to me when I read the Bible verse that says "God is Love."

All LoveB-)

The Lincoln Class of 2006

I can't wait for these cars to hit the market. They're a fusion of old school class and new school technology. The result: a line of cars not made for the young and flashy, lol.

Overall, the interiors of these Lincolns, especially the dashboards, remind me of something my grandpa mighta pushed back in the day. At the same time, some of the dashboards have this smooth low-watt neon lighting straight outta 2099.

Some of the models are very simple, like the Zephyr. But even the Zephyr has a wood-grain, silver-trim interior with a gear shift that looks like the polished, flattened top of a baseball bat; very fresh and definitely built for automatic transmission cats like myself, lol.

Other models are sure to be rarely seen and legendary to the lucky person who sees one pass in the night. The MK9 looks like a suburban Batmobile, lol. It's got a long, villainous front portion and a curt rear. The one I saw was all black with silver- grey trim and decor; the grey trim forms a subtle gill decoration along the sides of the front portion and a subtle "L" along the doors. This car is sure to shock someone at a redlight one night, that's for certainly.

Then there's the classic Lincoln Continental flagship. Observe: the trunk doesn't just lift up anymore. It pops up and folds back! Not only that, but the inner trunk SLIDES OUT! How fresh is that? Not to mention the rims CURVE INWARD. This is definitely not the car for kids to trick out.

These new Lincolns strike me as the types of cars you want to settle down in, ya know? My uncle pushes a Towncar, and it's a very comfy and spacious; can't ride in something that big and comfortable alone! Time for a brotha like me to start looking for a passenger...

So for the record you heard it here first ; the 2006 Lincolns are upon us to accomodate the grown and sexy. Very fresh indeedB-)

Desensationalize the Music (The Spirit of New Orleans)

"If you can talk you can sing; if you can walk you can dance..." An African proverb I learned from Talib Kweili. It's a belief that we all have music inside us, and I'm tempted to believe it's true. As sure as babies cry from the bottoms of their tiny lungs; as sure as they kick from inside their mother's wombs; as sure as the Lord beckons us in His Word to sing and dance in praise of the things He has done. I believe, though it might not manifest itself the same way in all of us, that we each have song and dance within us.

Well, if it's there, then what happened to it? Why do some of us seem to struggle in these areas? Well... I'll give you this theory of my own experimentation. You see most men I've grown up around, they weren't singers or dancers. They'd probably frown upon any man that took up singing or that could dance as unmanly. Most women I know are scared to sing, even though I've heard them hum quite beautifully to themselves. You know what I think? I think that we all can sing and dance, but we're too afraid of what people to think to let it out. So I tried this...

When I was home alone, or when I was in my car, I'd break out in song. It didn't matter what, I just wanted to know if I could sing. You know what I found out? When I tried to control my volume and muffle myself, I struggled to sing. When I just understood that no one was around me and let my voice ring freely, I could REALLY SING! And the same went for dancing; I've always been afraid of people laughing at me, as I believe most people fear. But when I just let it go and began to move, I was pleasantly surprised at what I could do. And no, I wasn't Marvin Gaye or Gregory Hines; I was me, and it was the best me I could've imagined.

So now I'm a believer; we all can sing and we all can dance. It's just a matter of finding out how YOU do it and then gaining the courage to do it to the best of your ability. Hey, generations of Africans living by that proverb can't be wrong, right? Consider this: maybe the kids on the street freestyling, the poor man with the saxophone and the hat looking for change, the b-boys on the cardboard in the square, the housewife singing her babies to sleep... maybe they are the living representations of that proverb.

Arright. So what's the significance of all of us being able to sing and dance? Simply this: if we all can sing and dance, then let's take these manufactured musicians off of their pedestals. They're not doing anything one of us "ordinary people" can't do (and no, that's not a shot at John Legend; I dig John Legend). Don't get me wrong, I'm not against professional singers. But why deify them? Especially when the abilities of many of them are mostly fabricated and over-hyped.

While I don't think music should represent a mere trade in our society, imagine this: Laborers in factories work hard all day in sometimes drab conditions. How nice would it be if when they got off work, or at break time, there was a band who's sole purpose was to relieve the workers by playing uplifting music? See, I think music feasibly could and should permeate every aspect of our lives. Buying CDs from stores is one thing, but street corners with live musicians escorting commuters to work in the morning with tunes of vigor... man. Kinda reminds ya of New Orleans, huh?

I'm also in favor of this great "Desensationalization of Music" in an effort to save music. It's easy to tell that most music nowadays is composed for its marketability; it's dressed and trimmed for the express purpose of selling, and the expressiveness of the music has become secondary to market value, or even tertiary to record sales. In other words, the soul of music is in a dire strait. But if music is desensationalized, then the incentives for creating this empty (or as I like to put it "MT" for "Music Television") music will be greatly reduced, and music can get back to it's true essence as a welcome accessory to a great society such as ours. Music is being prostituted for industry gain, and it's time to take the glitz and glam off of her so people can remember how beautiful she is.

DESENSATIONALIZE THE MUSIC!

Music Visualizations

When I was little, we didn't have cable. Not unless I was up at my aunt's house, and even then all I would watch were cartoons. I had no idea there was such a thing as music video until I was about... 13ish? Somewhere along there...

At first, videos were the greatest thing on earth. The first video I ever saw was the video for "Sweet Lullaby" by a group called Deep Forest. lol... Come to think of it, it was my first real taste of Eastern Culture. But now that I'm older, I realize that the thrill of video is gone. Every now and then I see one that catches me of course, but for the most part videos no longer move me.

I think back to when I was little; before I was into music videos. And you know what? Music meant so much more before video. It's kinda like reading a good book and then seeing a movie based on the book; usually the read was better than the visual representation. Before video, the only visions of music I had were my own dreams. I'll give you an example: Toni Braxton.

To me, Toni Braxton is very beautiful. I remember when I first saw how sexy she was; the "Breathe Again" video comes to mind. It was back when when she had the short hair. The video was shot in that early-cinema-nostalgia-monochromatic style; she wore a long flowing dress, fairytale style. I was awe-struck... But I realize now that finally seeing her, no matter how stunningly beautiful she was, doesn't begin to compare to my nights experiencing Toni as a figment of my imagination. MAN...

The first song I heard by Toni Braxton was "Another Sad Love Song", one of my all time R&B favorites. At the time, I didn't know who Toni Braxton was or if the song even had a video. All I knew was that a woman with a beautiful voice would come on the radio and have me hanging on her every word. She sang, ironically, about the power of music to bring back old feelings. And that pain came alive in the trill of her voice. I would become absorbed in the song and wish to be the solution to this beautiful voice's dilemma. Then I would imagine, "What kind of face could possibly do justice to a voice like that? Is she tall or short? Is she thick or slim? Is she light or dark?" And the crazy thing was, I don't think it would've mattered either way: The raw essence of Toni Braxton had me spinning before I ever saw who she was. And for a year or so, I just dreamed about a woman I'd never seen before.

That's the power of music that I'm missing right now. I hear songs come out, and they don't stimulate my mind like those old days before video; perhaps because the commercial emphasis has shifted from the music itself to the videos that promote them. I much prefer to hear music and dream than have my dreams fed to me.

Someone once told me that I should be a movie/video director. I could see that happening, but only because I already create my own "movies" in my mind. But I doubt that people would accept or even understand some of my dreams, because sometimes I don't even dream in concrete ideas; sometimes I literally dream in colors and shapes. I think I'd much rather make music, because when I make music, I can stimulate people and let them create their own imagery. Not to mention, I can hear my own music and create my own imagery like I used to; maybe that's why I have childhood flashbacks when I'm in the studio. Some nights when I'm working it feels like I could just close my eyes and wake up in my mom's '88 Honda Accord during the wee hours of the morning... "It's just another sad love song wrecking my brain..."

Da Art of Storytellin'

One of my favorite joints by OutKast (especially the remix featuring Slick Rick) is Da Art of Storytellin' Part I. But I'm not gonna talk about the song. Actually, I'm gonna talk about Hollywood.

I thought about this about a year ago. When you go to the movies, does it make a differnce who's playing the roles in the movie you watch? I got a better question: SHOULD it matter who's playing the roles in the movie you watch? Do you go to the movies to see a good story, or to see the actors?

Personally, I get the feeling that actors have too much to do with the movies. Why do I say that? Well... how else do garbage movies get made and still make beaucoup box office bux? Because people go see anything if they recognize a face or two. I don't think it's really as much about the stories as we like to think.

Maybe I'm making too much of this, but this is my ideal Tinsel Town... How about movies that are more about the story than about the people playing the roles? Picture this: a movie with a bunch of no-names. No credit rolls. Just the story and that's it; no distractions. How engulfing could a movie like that be?

Don't get me wrong, I respect the art of acting; it takes skills to be something you're not time-after-time, that's for sure. But what if cats got selected to play roles that fit them instead of them fitting into roles? Who they are on screen would be similar to who they are in reality. What an experience! I'd prolly be glued to my seat for the sheer realness of the film. I mean... when you have the same actors popping up in every movie, you never really separate the roles from the role-players; it's always "he was better when he played _______" or "he's so versatile". It becomes more about the actor than the movie itself, ya know? I bet even directors' methods are affected by the people that play the roles in their movies. Be honest; most of us leave the movies saying "He sure played that role well" instead of "I loved the main character" don't we...

S'not really a big deal tho; I have thoughts like this sometimes that really have no relevant significance to anybody. But wouldn't it be something to have immersive movies where stars and starlets were edited out to put all the emphasis on the movie itself? I think screenwriters might be more appreciated if the moviegoers were actually going to see the movies instead of the actors. And I might actually see fit to blow some gas money to hit the cinema sometimes, lol.

All LoveB-)

Storms of a Clouded Mind

Alright... I promise after this one I'm gonna talk about something more comprehensive, okay? lol... I didn't plan on talking about this until today, but I had one of my "storms" today, so I thought I'd write about it.

Anybody that knows me knows I have brontophobia--- fear of thunder. It's something that resulted from a bad experience I had when I was little; I didn't get struck by lightning, but it was close enough, lol. Anywasy, I mention this just to clarify that when I say I had "one of my storms" today, I'm not referring to literal storms.

This is a strange phenomenon that 's been happening to me for a while. It's rare, or rather far-between in occurence, so I never think about it. But having an episode today and having this blog to record it, I can finally etch it in concrete for myself to see. Every so often, I get really bogged down; today, for instance, I woke up dying to create something, ANYTHING! I thought I'd try to write something, but nothing came. Then I spent the majority of the day trying to produce music, but all I could do was chip away and chip away at pre-existing works with no major progress.

By 6:00pm I was in my room with 15 windows open on my PC screen. I had papers strewn all over the place. I had ripped my shirt off and flung it across the room because I felt trapped in a hopeless state of unproductiveness. Every time the phone rang I'd just get more and more irritated; and it rang a lot today. As a dude I have no right to say this, but it kinda reminded me of labor pains; I was dying to pull something wonderful out of me and it just wasn't there yet.

WHAT WAS IT? WHAT WAS I SEARCHING FOR? I knew somethign was up there, but I just couldn't find an outlet. Not my writing; not my producing. I thought I was gonna die. The only thing I could think to do was put on some soft music and lay into my guitar; she's acutally pretty comfortable to rest my head on. I began to strum to the music...

Now, for those of you who've read the previous "Team" entries, I'm gonna give you another tidbit about my friend Swim really quickly. Swim is a musical genius. Just like I have a knack for writing, he has a knack for music. We're partners in the music scene, and to help in our production we both bought guitars about a year ago. He picked it up right away; I struggled a bit.

But today, I began to strum on the guitar to an instrumental of Sleepy Brown's "I Can't Wait". And something clicked... the guitar just began to start making sense to me! And for the first time I was able to create my own chords at random, just like Swim! And I made use of all six strings instead of sticking to particular ones like I usually do. I had found my outlet, and my hands danced up and down the strings for an hour or so until I got sizable blisters on my fingers.

As I played, I realized that this wasn't the first time that I had experienced this mental turmoil followed by an "enlightening". It's not quite the same as a brainstorm of random thoughts; the result of these "storms" is always something special to me. In the past it has been one or two high-quality music productions created, mixed, and mastered in a single night. Sometimes it has been a lyrical masterpiece devoid of fillers, full of meaning, and displaying avid technique. Tonight, it was understanding the guitar, followed by application of that understanding.

As for why I have these storms, it's hard to say. But I hafta say the possibilites intrigue me. Imagine: what if these "storms" are sure indicators of a profound product on it's way? I've been praying for any kind of guidance God can give me in my pursuits; maybe this is an answer. Or maybe it's a spiritual thing happening. Or maybe great ideas and thoughts are pre-existent and they can cause "contractions" in our "mental birth canals" before they get here, lol... I'm laughing, but I'm dead serious too. It's possible, right? I mean, I'm sure we've all heard of artists with bad tempers that create works of genius out of their anger; we discussed artists of the Renaissance who had that problem in class just last week.

If these "storms" are real indicators of great ideas to come, maybe I should forget that I wrote this blog. After all, if I recognize the storms I might control my emotions and interrupt the process, lol. Then again, maybe the storms would make good guidelines for my work. I dunno, but it's interesting. Maybe I'll do some research and see what I come up with. In the meantime, I'm just gonna squeeze this storm for all it's worth with this curvy guitar.

All LoveB-)