Strange Days

Things to do in an elevator...


1. When there's only one other person in the lift, tap them on the shoulder and then pretend it wasn't you.

2. Push the buttons and pretend they give you a shock. Smile, and go back for more.

3. Ask if you can push the button for other people, but push the wrong ones.

4. Call the Psychic Hotline from your cell phone and ask if they know what floor your on.

5. Hold the doors open and say your waiting for a friend. After a while, let the doors close, and say, "Hi Greg. How's your day been?"

6. Drop a pen and wait until someone goes to pick it up, then scream, "That's Mine!"

7. Bring a camera and take pictures of everyone in the lift.

8. Move your desk into the lift and whenever anyone gets on, ask if they have an appointment.

9. Lay down the twister mat and ask people if they would like to play.

10. Leave a box in the corner, and when someone gets on, ask them if they can hear ticking.

11. Pretend you are a flight attendant and review emergency procedures and exits with the passengers.

12. Ask, "Did you feel that?"

13. Stand really close to someone, sniffing them occasionally.

14. When the doors close, announce to the others, "It's okay, don't panic, they open again!"

15. Swat at flies that don't exist.

16. Tell people that you can see their aura.

17. Call out, "Group Hug!” and then enforce it.

18. Grimace painfully while smacking your forehead and muttering, "Shut up, all of you just shut up!"

19. Crack open your briefcase or purse, and while peering inside, ask, "Got enough air in there?"

20. Stand silently and motionless in the corner, facing the wall, without getting off.

21. Stare at another passenger for a while, then announce in horror, "Your One of THEM!" and back away slowly.

22. Wear a puppet on your hand and use it to talk to the other passengers.

23. Listen to the lift walls with your stethoscope.

24. Make explosion noises when anyone presses a button.

25. Stare, grinning at another passenger for a while, then announce, "I have new socks on".

26. Draw a little square on the floor with chalk and announce to the other passengers, "This is MY personal space!"


Whats your funniest elevator story?


Elevator disco...
http://images2.jokaroo.net/flash/elevatordisco.swf

What was in that candles light
That opened and consumed me so quickly?

Come back my friend! The form of our love
is not a created form.

Nothing can help me but that beauty.
There was a dawn I remember

When my soul heard something
from your soul. I drank water

from your spring and felt
the current take me.

Rumi

Ok, ok....I know that was cold blooded how I ended that last post, but someone had commented before about my long posts, and it was getting a little long ::smile:: or maybe I did want to end it on a suspenseful note ::shrugs::: I wasn't trying to be mean. honest.

To answer another question, the things I talk about relating to my past are not exerpts from a book or related to the books I am writing. One of the books I'm writing is a cookbook, and the other is a book about cops. I did at one point start writing a book about my life, and maybe one day I'll dig that stuff out and post it, but for now, if I write about my past, its just things that come across my mind, or dreams and i feel i have to get them out...a cleansing of sorts. For example, I wrote about some things my mother and her friend pete had said when I was little...and it wasn't till I wrote about it that I realised how over it I was...it just didn't have the capability of hurting me anymore...heh, maybe if I write about other things, it can just as cathartic....wouldn't that be nice.

my dear blog. my own lil happy pill.



continued from previous entry....

....my dad takes the phone "Hello love" he bellows into the phone, "I was wondering when you would finally call me." I never got around to asking him, why he never called me...if I did, i forget...I do think I remember him saying that my mother made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him, so he backed off.

We spoke about trivial things for a few moments, and it became clear we were less than 2 miles from each other, and could meet at any time. So we made a date to meet, at a small restaraunt on Main Street, and set the time for the next morning. I was giddy. I was excited...this was my father .... MY father....forget this animal of a stepfather I lived with all my life, who thought he had an inkling of what it was like to be a MAN, no less a FATHER.

We met the next morning, me biting fingernails already bitten to the quick the night before. My first reaction...honestly? Damn, he's kind of old. Me 17, he was already 62...(an interesting fact my mom neglected to mention). Full head of white hair, white beard stubble, short, deep voice, and nice eyes. From that day on, every time he kissed me, he would rub his stubble, and go "damn girl, you need a shave".

My memory, as I may have mentioned before, is shot. I've had psychiatrists tell me that I have "repressed memories". Basically when a person has memory gaps, they've built walls around painful and hurtful experiences, and they supress them, deep in their subconcious, it is as if the body is warring against the soul by blocking memories or dreams that would unleash a torrent of anguish. Sometimes I try and think really hard to remember some things, but whole chunks...years...of my life, they are just not there...or are hidden so deeply...sometimes I wish I could remember....other times, I think I remember quite enough, thank you very much.

That day...we were more like two lovers meeting for the first time (and no i'm not saying anything freaky happened so keep your Oedipus comments to yourself) but we sat close to each other, we held hands, we barely ate a thing on our plates and we stared into each others eyes...i'm so sure no one seeing us would have thought we were father and daughter. But it was like we no longer wanted any space between us and we talked and talked for hours. Can I tell you a thing we spoke about? no. I don't remember, I only remember the feeling, the feeling of being at my base, the source of my river, and it was bliss.

Our relationship from that point on fluctuated wildly, we were so much alike. Hard headed, secretive, comedic, curious, social, selfish, alphas, independent, but i think most of all, we were both in a lot of pain. We loved, fought, talked, screamed, laughed and cried many times over the next few years. I stayed with him and his wife for a while, but that never worked out. He wanted to make up for the lost years of being a father, I was 17, 18, 19....what kid that age wants a dad? He pushed, I pushed back harder, his wife was a controlling nazi and eventually I just went my own way.

I didn't even take it hard, I mean what the fuck...I had already beenthrough the ringer, abusive home, runaway, in a runaway home, slept on the street, slept on park benches..abandoned buildings....I had proven to myself, if nothing else, that I was a survivor. It's only when you are down to nothing..I mean down to a fucking blank page and your mother, your father (or should I say his wife), say they can't do anything for you...because they have their own lives to think about, that you realize, "hey, i'm in this shit alone...it's just me. Sink or swim...make a choice."

I regret not getting to know my dad better. We were just so happy to have found each other, then we got so busy being mad at each other for one reason or another...was I mad at him for not being there for me...maybe...I probably was...no reason was ever good enough why he never came to find me....get me....save me.

I found a lot of things about him that showed his all too human side, he was a philanderer of the highest order. Had been most of his life. As a young man he was considered the black Cary Grant, the black Valentino.....with his swarthy Italian/Black good looks, beautiful head of hair, and a personality that wouldnt quit, he swept many, many women off their feet. He'd been with his wife many years and had about that many affairs. She opened his car trunk once, to find an empty bottle of wine, a picnic basket and a blanket in it.....and it was not used on her. He liked being in control, but his wife was the one in control, of the house, the bills, him....so he did the only thing she couldn't control, which was, be with other women. often. I hated his wife so much, I couldnt even be mad at him for being such a slut, I felt sorry for him, which ultimatly I think is why I eventually grew to resent him.


On another note...he loved to talk. Talk, talk, talk. He would segway from one conversation to another seamlessly.

"I was talking to my friend the other day about the new house, and the umbrella we bought for the deck...."

"speaking of umbrellas, have you seen the new hats with the umbrellas on top?"

"speaking of top, we have to put a new roof on the store"

"speaking of store, when are you gonna get the rest of your junk out the basement?"

and it would go on and on and on....

and he could tell jokes like nobody's business, and they would be so cooorny, but he would laugh so hard, you could do nothing but laugh with him. I still tell his corny jokes to this day. Jessica loves em.

In 1997 he had a stroke. He was with a young woman, in one of the apartments he rented out, and it is assumed they were having sex, because he was parially dressed when the ambulance came and his wallet was later found behind the radiator. Dad was 76 years old, getting his freak on with a 20 something, girl from the neighborhood. Turns out, he was taking care of her and her 3 children. All the money he had saved, all the money he got from his wife for an allownace(?), gone..all of it. His wife was pissed, can't say I blame her, but i wonder why he felt the need to do all of this. It's been said he never left because everything he had, was tied up with his wife, she was younger, smarter, and meaner than him and would have left him with nothing, and not a pot to piss in. sort of makes sense.

(As it is, I don't own anything that I can say belonged to my dad. When he died his wife got everything. I asked for something I could have to remember him by, and being her usual, selfish self, she gave me a tin cookie box filled with reciepts, a broken watch, a couple of business cards, and a ripped tie. Did I mention how much that woman irked me? thoughtless, thoughtless woman. I don't know what she did with all of his things, she claimed everything in the house belonged to her alone, not him. It's almost like he never had anything, like she erased his existance. Out of spite, she never boguth him a headstone....he's in a grave, with no headstone.)

I went to the hospital to see him after he had the stroke, his right side was paralyzed, and as a side effect, he couldn't talk. (I can't help but think this is what really made it hard for him, losing his ability to speak. he could have gotten no greater punishment) He laid there, just looking at me, he tried to write something on paper, but it came out a scrawl and just frustrated him more. As the next few days went by he just laid there. I went to see him the night before he died, and I just talked and talked. I told him I loved him, as I walked around straightening up the room. I noticed his nails were filthy (he repaired antiques) so I took a clipper out my pocketbook, and reached for his hand, and he snatched it away. I snatched it back and smacked him lightly on the back of his hand and told him to "cut it out" and started cleaning his nails. When I looked up he was crying. Was it the feeling of being helpless?...was it not being able to comunicate? Was it something else? who knows. I asked why he was crying, he just shook his head, I said "you know I love you right" and he nodded. I don't know why he cried...I know he was a sad and complicated man that I will never truly know. and I miss him.

I was water from his spring, but I shall never know the source. and that makes me sadder than anything in this world.

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Im sorry for another long post, I start and it just keeps coming, but i do thank everyone for reading and for the great comments, just because I don't get a chance to answer each comment individually, all the time, doesnt mean they don't each touch me in some way.

"Perhaps everyone has a garden of Eden, I don't know; but they have scarcely seen their garden before they see the flaming sword. Then, perhaps, life only offers the choice of remembering the garden or forgetting it. Either, or: it takes strenth to remember it, it takes another kind of strength to forget, it takes a hero to do both. People who remember court madness; people who forget court another kind of madness, the madness of the denial of pain and the hatred of innocence; and the world is mostly divided between madmen who remember and madmen who forget. Heroes are rare." James Baldwin, Giovanni's Room

I know I've mentioned before my penchant for books...they have and always be my addiction. I own over 1000 now, and am sure I have read over 5000, I stopped counting a long time ago. It's much easier to tell you what kind of books I don't like than to list all of the kinds I do like and do read...I really dont like books on or about politics...other than that...I'm open. One of my pleasures is horror, has been since I was a kid.

I purchased Giovanni's Room about 15 years ago at a street table in NY.

street tables for those who don't know, are guys who put tables of books on the sidewalks all over NY; (not to be confused with street vendors who actually buy books to sell in this way) they are mostly bums or transients, who "get" books, either by

• stealing them
  
• people give them to them
  
• they buy used books very cheaply
  
• they "fall off the truck"
  
  

"fall off the truck", was my italian truck-driving uncles way of saying back in the day, that the truck drivers would sell stuff out the back of the truck for partial cost or take items for their own families and tell the bosses that it "fell off the truck", ... lol When I was little I remember my stepfather and my uncles bringing home tv's and such, a joking how it "fell off the truck" and I always wondered how it didn't get broken when it fell off.

I digress, so I bought the book at a street table....99% of these books were used books, rarely (and luckily) could you come across a book that was new or near new, but these are the places where I bought many of my books, many of them for less than a dollar each...regardless of size, price or condition. When I was 17, 18, 19....living in my little rat hole of an apartment, I could go to Manhatten, right on 8th and 6th, with ten dollars and cart home grocery bags of books. I would spread them on my bed, and around my room in piles and read to my hearts content.

Even today there are no less than 8-15 books next to my bed at any given time. Two constants are "The Prophet" by Khalil Gibran, and the other is The Essential Rumi. Both books I have been reading over and over for many years, and damn if i don't find something new each time I read them. I'm convinced it's not that I'm finding something new in the books, but something new within myself.

Back to Giovanni's Room....I bought the book on sight because my father's name is Giovanni, and because I recognized James Baldwin as a black writer, and I collect books by black writers. I was unpacking (another) box yesterday, when I came across it and read the back cover, "the story of a young american involved with both a woman and a man." Do tell! I'm already more than halfway thru it, and it is amazing. The descriptive way he tells this story and the absolute anguish the title character is in....the only bad thing I've found about this book so far is it's so short and I'm almost done with it!

I read some biographical info on Baldwin...seems like he had the worst of both worlds, being black and struggling thru the civil rights era, and struggling with his sexuality in a society that still forces our men to hide their sexualty for fear of retribution from family, friends and society as a whole. It's doubly sad that so many great writers are not even acknowledged until they are dead, and he was never even given the recognition I think he should have had. They should make a movie out of this book, really.

Anyway, enough of my running on, it's a great book, I highly recommend it. At 224 pages, it's a slim paperback, an easy read, but no less powerful for it.

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This was supposed to segway into a post about my father, because the book....it's the same as his name....but I wound up rambling about the book, lol

I think I mentioned before, my father was never in my life. Him and my mom were married when I was born...to other people....and once I was born, for whatever reason, my mom did not want to be with him. He, unfortunatly, had already chosen to tell and leave his wife, who proceeded to leave him and leave their 4 kids with him. Maybe thats why my mom couldnt stay with him, she would have had an instant family of 5. Who knows. Their history is so convoluted.

All thruout my childhood, I remember her yelling when she was mad about something, "you look just like your damn father", it was confusing because I always assumed that was a bad thing...had to be right, if it was spit at you whenever you did anything wrong?

My dad had a very long and strange italian name (he was Sicilian and Zulu), so (this was before computers, mind you) whenever I would come across a phone book, either in the towns we lived in, or if we went to another family or friends house, I would try and look his name up in the phone book, thinking one day I would see his name and could find him and maybe he could help me.....escape my stepdad, the beatings, my mom, my life....

Never happened. I'd already left home multiple times, been beaten more times than i can count, seen my mother beat almost to death, my brothers and sisters thrown to the wind before the day came....I was 17...we had been living in this town for many many years, and here I was....again.....looking in the phone book.

My mother had always spelled the beginning of my fathers name DePa*******, of course here I am again, looking and I didn't see it but for whatever reason, kept looking, down the list of D's and all of a sudden, there it was.... DiPa*******.

Same name. one letter different.

But the same odd, strangely spelled last name that I've never seen anyone else ever have. And right there in the same town I was living in? I picked up the phone, dialed the number...a woman answered...I asked if I could speak to Jean (short for Giovanni, everyone called him Jean...I didn't even know his name was Giovanni until years later)...there was a pause, she asked my name, I said just my first name, and she puts her hand over the phone and yells,

"Jean....your daughter is on the phone"

I'm so pissed cause I sat here and finished this entry and it deleted it when I tried to post. If I ever get my hands on someone from blogger...god help them. I had to stay up another 45 minutes and do everything over, cause I was determined to have this post up by tonight....oh scuse me...this morning. dangit.

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Spoke to my sis today, she seems to be doing better. I kept asking her if she checked her email and she kept saying not yet, not yet. But she finally checked it and she seemed happy, she told me thank you. We both suffer from the same thing...difficulty accepting compliment and affection, it's just something we have difficulty dealing with.

She was telling me some comments her boyfriend made to her when she got off work today. He's such an dumbass sometimes, he makes me so fucking mad, especially when she calls me and her voice is quavering or she's really upset at something he said.

There are different forms of abuse...he doesnt put his hands on her (because I would literally kill him) but the things he says hurt as bad as blows, and I think he knows it. Yeah, there are two sides to every story, but some things there is just no need for.

I tell her, when she is tired...when she has had enough....then, and only then will it be over. I know that despite how she's been feeling lately that she is strong. She's not 10 years old anymore and I can't "save" her like I used to. I know she is strong and can make her own decisions and will do the right things for herself and her kids. in addition to that...I "got her back*" and she knows this. (*meaning she has my full support, for you ebonically impaired folks)

Thanks so much to everyone who expressed their support regarding my last entry, some people say they don't know what the pont is to having a blog, but it's people like you all that show me the point, and then some. So thanks a lot.

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Thanks Joy for involving me in this next meme, and causing me to lose almost a whole nights sleep thinking about my answers. :::cheese::::

The "crushes" part is what stumped me the most cause I don't really "crush" anymore. (Unless you count seeing one of the ones I mentioned below on the screen and then I go all slack-jawed, lol. And don't let them be half dressed, then my head tilts to the side like a curious doggy....*woof** lmao...ctfu!)

(and Oh yeah Joy, as per one of your posts, The Ring 2 IS a horror movie...I don't know who told you it wasn't but me and Jess watched it the other night...suffice it to say, she didnt want to sleep in her room alone, and neither did I, lol


7 Things meme


7 things I plan to do before I die:

- Have an art gallery showing of my work

- Start a non-profit to help people (most likely something to do with literacy)

- Go to Africa, particularly Egypt and Ethiopia

- Finish at least ONE of my books

- Open a bar, restaraunt or small school (cooking or art)

- Drive across the US (visiting all the states if I can)

- Leave something tangible on this earth for my daughter


7 things I can do:

- Be crafty, ie; paint, draw, make dolls, clothes, jewelry, mosaics, ect

- cook my ass off (lol) chinese, italian, spanish, mexican, soul, you name it.

- Websites/computers - I'm great with computers and taught myself how to do html/websites

- Talk to people/help people

- relate to children, even kids who aren't friendly wind up loving me, lol

- speed read (I can finish a good size book in an hour or so. I've read well over
5000 books...I stopped counting a few years ago, lol)

- Write, I have tons of my writing and poetry, always been a kick-ass writer, every since I was very young. (hmmm...need to add my poetry blog)

(also, I know this is cheating, but I am so proud of the fact that I learned to shoot a couple of years ago...rifle, shotgun, handgun, you name it...and I'm damn good!)


7 things I cannot do:

There's nothing I can't do iffin I put my mind to it, lol
with that being said....

- I can't speak any other language but eengleesh...(oh yeah and some curse words in other languages, but I know that doesnt count)

- skydive...can't..or won't? that my friends, is the question.

- square dance....again, thin line between can't and won't

- eat liver....cant even stand the smell of it...the smell alone gags me

- play chess. can't understand it...i would like to though, Joe is an avid player

- get organized. I just can't do it, i tyr and try. (ask me why I can find anything in under 10 seconds though..I heard it's a sign of genius, lol)

- Lie to the one's I love (I dont like to lie to anyone, but I think lying to the ones you love is particularly evil)


7 things that attract me to the opposite sex:

There's just something about a man's

- eyes. They say eyes are the windows to the soul. There's nothing sexier than a man who can look unabashed into your eyes and say how he feels.

- lips. A well defined lip speaks volumes. If your talking, and I can't stop looking at your lips....you know whats up. I'll take them full, pouty, even cleft ala Joquin Phoenix, and my new blogger buddy MH


- personality. Personality is the deal breaker, you either have it or you don't, you know what to say and when to say it...other people might not "get you", but I do.

which leads me to..

- intelligence. Don't just talk, have something to say. You don't have to be einstein, but talk about what you know, and be able to talk about lots of different thinks...believe in what you say and have lots of....

- passion. about me, your job, your family, your hobbies, about life. Be passionate, let the little things mean a lot.

- ambitious. you may not have the world, but you're gonna grab as much of it as you can. You got a hustlers spirit, ni**a period* (*Jay Z reference)

- Charisma. It's not something you can put a finger on...its a Je Ne Se Qua (sp), it's what Lauren Hill called "That thing, that thing, that thiiiii----ng", it's what made me say yes to that second date, it's what makes me trust you when you say "trust me", its what makes all my friends like you (and for the slightest moment hate me for having you), its what makes my mother like you, and all the kids in the family want to ride in "your car" when we go on a trip, call it charisma, moxie, personality, game...call it what you want, it just works.


7 things that I say most often:

- (when I'm correcting someone) Well, ACTUALLY

- me and jess's favorite, we made it up - gohome. it's a diss...you do something stupid...gohome....you say something dumb....gohome. It's very flat with no emphasis on any letter...one word...gohome, ie; get lost, beat it, go h o m e...lol

- uhmmmm. I use "uhmmmm" far to much.....

- dumbass. again, no inflection on any letter...very flat..one word...dumbass. Bush catches this one a lot.

Thats bout it, I dont really have any one thing I say a lot...


7 celebrity crushes :


Richard T Jones. I am hooked on re-runs of Judging Amy because of him...iffin you ask me, they give him far too little screen time...*woof*



Richard T. Jones' extensive feature film credits include "The Wood," "Lockdown," "Book of Love," "Kiss the Girls," "Event Horizon," "What's Love Got to Do with It," "Renaissance Man," "The Trigger Effect," "Johns," "Pistol Blues," "G," "Moonlight Mile," "Phone Booth," "Blackout," "Twisted" and the upcoming "Collateral."

Among his television credits are the movies "Riding the Bus With My Sister," on CBS, "Second String" and the upcoming "Paradise," and the series "Sweet Justice," "NYPD Blue," "Ally McBeal," "Dangerous Minds" and, on CBS, "In the Heat of the Night" and "Brooklyn South."

Jones was born in Japan and raised in Carson, California. He lives in Los Angeles with his wife and their three children. His birth date is January 16.

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Antoni Banderas. Here's my token "latin guy wita poneetail" as joe calls him, lol.
My favorite movies by him, Original Sin, Assassins but most of all Interview with a Vampire....dam that man is sexy...and the accent....oh the accent....:::fanning::::

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Ving Rhames. Not the most handsome to many people, but I love him. Check out them guns*! (*arms) I'm a sucker for a well turned arm. Favorite movies, Rosewood, Native Son, Holiday Heart.

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Idris Elba, sexy, confident, tall, dark and yummy. lol

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Djimon Hounsou....looks like there's a pattern going on here huh? Ya'll gone get cavities from all this chocolate, lol. Joe has made jokes about how I like Africans, lol...but he's about Idris's complexion. But I do like men with the African features for some reason...I used to have a HUGE crush on this Nigerian guy who worked at BBQ's in Manhatten...he looked just like Djimon, and I got up the nerve to ask him out one day. He came to my house and showed me how to cook a nigerian chicken dish, and we talked a few times after that...but nothing else. I think once he realized I wouldnt marry him so he could stay in this country it was a done deal, lol.

Djimon. The man is regal...he has the bearing of a King...and the accent (here I go with the fanning again) (what is it with me and these accents?)

If I had to choose one out of all seven, it would be this one.

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Terrence Howard. Now this is one fine ass, high yaller man who could, as they say in the hood..."git dat", lmao. The boy is beautiful, no doubt about it. and them lips....

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Ginuwine. The face, the voice, and body for days....

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7 people I want to do this :

Mr Death - someone asked you to do it, but since you still haven't done it, you know I would like to know, lol

Dr. Deborah - Not sure if she'll do it, but it would be interesting :)

Cane - because I would like to know more about him

Chele - I know you got jokes, lol

Neena - the hawaiian point of view (you are in Hawaii right?)

Coquito - my new blogger friend

Peggasus - you look at life in your own special way :)

I'm adding two more (is that cheating? oh well, sue me, lol)

Marcus and Maitri

my sister told me that she considered killing herself last week.

how do you respond to some shit like that?

first response. fear.

I cannot lose another sister. Not on some dumb shit.

I mean, I know things are hard for her now. 3 kids(2, 5 & 8), a half ass excuse for a man, a temp job, and no "true" friends....we've talked about "friends" but you know..."true" friends are hard to come by.

I feel bad that I came to GA without her. I asked her to come but it wasn't something she wanted to do at that time. but i still feel like i deserted her.

Now I feel if she does something stupid, it will be my fault...how could i not blame myself, leaving her in jersey? I know she's a grown ass woman, but she's still my baby sister.

but what can i do...she's not talking about coming here until about feb. all i can do is pray.

Every since she told me, I've been wanting to talk about it again, but she's been acting like it was nothing, just a passing thought and that everything is cool. So im not sure if I should let it ride, or try to bring it up again. I wish I could snap my fingers and she be here, I just want to hug her, with her loud, short ass self. Shortest chick with the most mouth, lol.

Me'shell N'Degeocello said in one of her older songs "Once you have a child, suicide is no longer an option" I really feel that way because children did not ask to be bought into this world, and I think we have an innate responsibility to stick it out for them...and particularly for not burdening them with your suicide of all things.

but that is my personal feelings...who am i to judge what a person can or cannot deal with? or where the end of her rope is. I just know this would hurt more than i could bear. and i miss her and love her so much.

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so while writing this, I decided since I can't talk about it, to write her a letter...which I did. I wont post it here because its too personal, but i wrote it and emailed it to her....it made me feel better and I hope it helps her...to see how much she means to me.

wasted my day today...got some work done and then spent a shitload of time going thru folks blogs.....ya'll know who you are cause you're all listed to the right of this. :::folds arms with the mad face::: not that anyone ever lists me on their blog :::shrugs:::: guess i'm not interesting enuf huh.

I posted a link to the right for the new blog I started to post pictures of my art that everyone has asked for...

it's not the recent art class pic, which I will mysteriously refer to as bunny but some of the other stuff I've worked on privately.

I dont have pics of everything so bear with me as I log them in, I'll mention in the blog when new ones go in.

Peter Pan (my next door neighbors son) did well in school today, for like the first time since school started. He's not a bad kid, just for some reason would rather draw than do his work....

Jessica on the other hand seems to be doing better...she'd gotten a progress report in which all of her teachers wrote "keeps talking" or "likes to talk" or "won't stop talking" on it. Talk about flashback to my childhood, lol. I talked so much in class I remember having to write on the chalkboard, "I will not talk in class" 100 times. damn.

So this is just my mothers curse coming back to haunt me....

"I'm so fucking sick of you, when you grow up, I hope you have a kid ten times as bad as you"

whoa lady, I just talked in class....damn. lol

and so the saga continues with my talky daughter....I told her to shut her trap and concentrate on getting her shit done in class. period.

Her: "but, but...other people talk to me...."

me: "how many times do I have to tell you....."

her: "....you don't give a crap what other kids do...."

me: "eXXAaaaactly. now shut it up in class. if they talk to you just ignore them...shrug your shoulders and look away, stare at the teacher and act like your deaf...I dont care, just shut your lips"


so when i went to the parent teacher conference, all the teachers said she wasnt talking any more.

small victory over my thirteen year old...its small....i know it. how much longer can i weild this type of control over a teenager?

::shrugs::: dunno

BUT I'LL DO IT WHILE I CAN!!!

muuuhahahahahah ::::cough cough:::

anyway, i love the girl, she's hardheaded and stubborn (wonder where she got it from), traits that irk me now, but that will serve her well in the future.

I know how excited I was by this art class, and the last thing I want to do is come off like I don't like the art class, cause I do....really.

This class was put together by the Gertrude Herbert Institute of Art....I thought since it was an actual museum that was giving the class that it would be....::shrugs::: I dunno....better?.

I feel like how I felt when I signed my daughter up for an expensive private school (that I could barely afford), and then found out six months later (when she bought home a test that she got an F on, and when I looked over the test, the teacher had marked 10 things wrong that were actually right)...and when I went to school, I found out that her teacher wasn't licensed...and in fact, parochial school teachers do not HAVE to be licensed!?!?

Anywho.....My teacher is nice...but ummm, that doesn't make one a good painter.

See here's what happened...we were mixing paints for our background, and she mentioned that instead of using your brush to add a larger amount of paint, you can use your palette knife...and p r o c e e d s to smear paint all over my background. The look on my face was "what the f u c k ?!?" and the girl directly across from me saw it (my face that is)...but teacher was quite oblivious, and I spent the next 15 minutes trying to blend my background before her smears dried. (unsuccessfully I might add)

Joe says that it was probably all a part of teaching, but I disagree...this is my work of art, my project, why would you use it as an example?

I couldn't paint right for the rest of the class....she could have used a blank sheet of paper to demonstrate on right? :::shakes head::: maybe it's me, but the class seems to question her a lot, on things I think she should be putting out there before they ask...like, telling us to mix colors, but not showing...sure I knew how to do it, but only two other people knew how, the rest just winged it.

Joe says, maybe I should do my own painting class....and maybe I will. Maybe this class will get better. I hope so. It's nice to have that time to myself to go out and do something (paint) that pleases me so much for two hours, especially when I can hardly make time to paint when I'm home. ...I'm going to take it as it comes, and get what I can out of it.

....and....and I am making a promise to myself to make time to paint at home. I have a whole room that I use as my in home office, and I'm splitting that in half to use the other half as a sort-of art studio, thank god the room is about 17 x 15 feet, so it doesn't feel cramped at all. Now that I have a designated space to paint in, I can find the time. :)

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I've decided to write about my past as well as my regular posts. So to whosoever might be reading this thing, I'll be posting all of my "flashbacks" as I call them in green so you can tell the difference, and even choose to read or not. :)

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I dont remember much about my childhood, slices and slivers of memory is all I have...being a baby, nothing..... 4-5 years old...nothing...not a single memory...at about 5 or 6 a memory of waiting for my mother to come home.

She's in the hospital.

a baby sister.

i'm standing in a foyer by myself, looking out a window for her car to pull up, eating a bag of chips as big/tall as me.

moms car pulls up to the curb, i run out to it.

she shows me a little bundle with a ugly crying thing in it...

im not impressed.

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Memories of my sister being a baby. nil. nada. nothing.

memory of her being about 3.....try to follow me here....

My mother was married when she got pregnant with me, so was my father...only they weren't married to each other. My mother left her husband, her husband kidnapped her two sons (2+3) and she never saw them again, she never makes it work with my father...their reasons, memories and explanations differ, and when i was about 4 or 5 she met my stepfather.

Long story short, they get married (her family completely ostracizes her for married a black man, despite the fact that they are hispanic and native american, ie; black themselves), couple years later he screws up (cheating or something), she decides to leave him.

Key point: this is quite frankly the strongest most emphatic thing I'd ever seen my mother do...ever, in my whole childhood. We lived in an apt in Newark....She found out somehow that he was cheating, so she waited till he got up and went to work (5am? it was still dark out) got up, packed every single thing in the house, had some guy (she was seeing?) she knew (Pete...i prefer to think of him as "puerto rican pete) come to the house with a truck, packed all our shit in it, and the only thing she left in the house was his clothes hanging in the closet. I remember as we went to walk out the door, she was carrying my sister, and holding my hand, and she said "wait a minute" and she walked back into the empty apt, walked into the kitchen and yanked the phone cord out the wall...I was like Woowwwww.

"Pete" takes us to this two family house in Paterson, I can't remember the guy's name who lived upstairs but he was old as dirt, and he had a big fluffy dog named BoBo. I loved the apt, it was bigger than the one we had before, and it had a YARD! (OK it was really a driveway, but if there were no cars in it, it was a YARD!)

I remember one day, I had done something...I've conveniently forgotten what it was (how bad could it be, I was what 7? 8?) and I remember my mother and "pete" standing in the kitchen, and "pete" goes, "your a bad girl, and thats why we love paula better" and smooches her on the cheek.

Ok...

a. she cant even talk yet, what can she do wrong?
b. is this a sick statement or what to make to a kid?
c. who is this guy pete...you're not even my step father fer crissakes

****at any rate, i realized just now.... as I write this..... that for the first time in my life I am so over this memory.

My stepfather finds out where we live

(to this day I have no idea how)

bangs on our door day and night, apologizing for whatever he'd done, sleeps in his car in front of the house for what seems like weeks

until he takes an overdose of pills


winds up in the hospital

and she takes him back

big scene with him kneeling in the bathroom hugging me and my sister happy to be home.

home. happy. what a joke.

Every since I posted that I own over 1000 books, I've been asked to name some of them, or what I'm reading. I've read every book in my collection, and I will attempt to archive them here, in no particular order, including new books I read as well as books I will Bookcross. If I bookcross a book I will include the bookcross number so you can check the status on the bookcross site. Email me if you submit any books as well, I'd like to see how they go.

This is going to take time, so it is a work in progress. I will try to add new books every day. If you want to know how a book was, email me.

For reference, I put dates on some of the old books I've collected and some of my favorites will have amazon links in case you'd like to buy a copy for yourself.

Any questions email me at virtualchase at aol.com

1. The Essential Rumi
   
   
2. The Prophet by Khalil Gibran
   
   
3. The Millionaire's Secrets, Mark Fisher
   
   
4. The Power of Positive Thinking, Norman Vincent Peale (1952)
   
   
5. Love Songs, Sara Teasdale (1946)
   
   
6. Soledad Brother - The prison Letters of George Jackson
   
   
7. Nymphs of The Valley, Khalil Gibran (1948)
   
   
8. The Nightstand Chillers, Pat Boyette (scary comics)
   
   
9. The Power to Love, Edwin W. Hirsch, MD (1934)
   
   
10. Derailed, James Seigel
    
    
11. Mosaic Wrokshop, Emma Biggs
    
    
12. The Street Lawyer, John Grisham
    
    
13. Hidden Treasures of Ancient Egypt, Zahi Hawass
    
    
14. Good Things, Martha Stewart
    
    
15. Condensed Knowledge, Mental Floss
    
    
16. aCCEptable risk, robin cook
    
    
17. good things, martha stewart
    
    
18. like water for chocolate, laura esquirel
    
    
19. the mushroom man, sophie powell
    
    
20. hidden treasures of ancient egypt, zahi hawass
    
    
21. on the down low, jl king
    
    
22. what they never told you in history class, indus khamit-kush
    
    
23. voices from slavery, edited by norman r yetman
    
    
24. the big book of new american humor, edited by william novak and moshe waldoks
    
    
25. the secret langiage of dreams, david fontana
    
    
26. secret language, monica wood
    
    
27. bag of bones, stephen king
    
    
28. flowers bed, antione thomas
    
    
29. star, pamala anderson
    
    
30. the godfather, mario puzo
    
    
31. a treasury, khalil gibran
    
    
32. the case of sergeant grischa, arnold zweig
    
    
33. african history for beginners, herb boyd
    
    
34. my brothers keeper, reshonda tate billingsly
    
    
35. the girl problem, ruth m alexander
    
    
36. the boston strangler, gerold frank
    
    
37. blackface, nelson george
    
    
38. the womans encyclopedia of myths and secrets, walker
    
    
39. midnight in the garden of good and evil, john berendt
    
    
40. chicken soup for the soul, jack canfeild
    
    
41. ragtime, e l doctorow
    
    
42. the exorcist, william peter blatty
    
    
43. public enemy, john walsh
    
    
44. the street lawyer, john grisham
    
    
45. national geographic, the photographs
    
    
46. bridges and boundaries, african americans and american jews, george braziller
    
    
47. handbook on roses, brooklyn botanic garden, 1967
    
    
48. Othello, edited by george lyman kittredge
    
    
49. dark forces, edited by kirby mccauley
    
    
50. start and run your own record label, daylle deanna schwartz
    
    
51. choosing health and wellness, edited by sheryl huggins and cheryl mayberry
    mckissack
    
    
52. through indian eyes, readers digest
    
    
53. modern primitives, tatoo, piercing, scarification, RE Search
    
    
54. html for the world wide web, elizabeth castro
    
    
55. justine von marquis de sade, guido crepax
    
    
56. the peculiar institution, slavery in the antibellum south, kenneth m stampp 1956
    
    
57. alone with the devil, famous cases of a courtromm psychiatrist, ronald markman
    md and dominicl bosco
    
    
58. the princessa, machiavelli for women, harriet rubin
    
    
59. damage, josephine hart
    
    
60. parenting isnt for cowards, dr james c dobson
    
    
61. black odyssey, the case of the slave ship amistad, mary caBLE
    
    
62. GENtleman junkie, harlan ellison
    
    
63. drop city, tc boyle
    
    
64. the alchemist, paulo coelho
    
    
65. def poetry jam on broadway, danny simmons
    
    
66. big city junk, mary randolph caRTER
    
    
67. memoirs of a geisha, arthur golden
    
    
68. canning and preserving, linda ferrari
    
    
69. my tupac shakur story, chopmaster j
    
    
70. the valley of light, terry kay
    
    
71. possessed, the rise and fall of prince, alex hahn
    
    
72. 
    
    
73. 
    
    
74. 
    
    
75. 
    
    
76. 
    
    
77. 
    
    
78. 
    
    
79. 
    
    
80. 
    
    
81. 
    
    
82. 
    
    
83. 
    
    
    

Heyyyyy.....

It's been a hectic week, I'm sorry I took so long to post....I had wrote this whole post about my art class and when i went back to post it, it had signed me out and the whole freaking post disapeared. ..::Dur::..

So art class day, I popped in my Prince "1999" cd, and rode thru the evening air, sailing. Remember when 1999 seemed so far away? Remember parting like its 1999, cause it was 1999?

Lemme tell ya somethin, if u didn't come 2 party, don't bother knockin on my door.
I got a lion in my pocket, and baby he is ready 2 roar

So anyway, I found the place pretty easy, (mapquest is the shiznit)was about 5 min late, but there were two people that showed up much much later than me, so i felt a little better. :::cheese::: I think i was thinking that the person who would teach this class would be some hip artsy worldly chic or dude who'd had a few art shows under their belt, maybe not young, but certainly not old enough to be my grandmother. Pat...that's her name, Pat. She seems really nice...and maybe I could be accused of age-ism here, I just thought it would be someone a little younger.

I don’t really think this will be a place for me to make new friends, half the class is teenagers and the other half is over 50, got me wondering if this was a good idea after all.

She started us out with everyone introducing themselves, and turns out that most of us were from “up north” only two of the teenagers were actually from GA. So that was pretty funny. She had us start out working on a still life of some plants/flowers and a statue of a white rabbit. I’ve never done still life’s before, and thought it would be really hard. I’m always downing myself and saying I cant draw, when in fact, when I do draw, everyone tells me how great I can draw. :::shrugs::: go figure.

Anyway, I paint from my imagination, usually collage pieces with lots of color or hip hop mixed media pieces, depends on what I’m in the mood for…and that’s why I learned something new from this class (as I hoped I would)…..she had us sketch it out with pencil, go over it with sepia and the do our shadows, and then add color. My backwards ass use to just start with color and go from there, lol.

Pat walked around the tables while we painted, and she told me twice "i love your colors" "great colors!" and then the last go round she slapped me on my shoulder and said "thats really great!" don't mind me, im such a compliment whore...:::cheese::::


but seiously, i was panicked when she told us to sketch, and it should have been the least of my worries, I held up great, one guy was so nervous, he never even painted at all, he just barely finished the sketch by class end. Poor guy, he seemed really nervous.

I'm still glad i took the class, no doubt, see, that’s why I felt…even though I’m a dope cook, I could pick up some tricks if I took a cooking class….same with this…I know that anything I pick up from this class will only make me a better artist. And that’s good by me. So we should be finished with this painting this Tuesday she says and be starting on the next, which is pretty cool. I’m gonna take some pics and post, so ya’ll can check out my style, haha.