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I am a writer of dark magical realism. All that is visible but rarely seen, all that is real but seems surreal, all that is dark yet radiates light.

Tuesday, August 31, 2010


Now I know I should change your name from 3MB.  Instead your name needs to be IEB.  The I for infinity the E for eternity.  But I like 3MB, it serves as a reminder: what you got going on now is so little of what you can potentially conceive.  Your potential is exponential and my pussy I mean my love will be instrumental.   Baby, I gotta tell you that I'm really feeling you.  When I close my eyes and grip my legs tight that's when I can still feel you   When you fucked me twisted sideways last night that's when I could really feel you.  I think that's our new favorite position.  We work so well together when we compromise.  You get to hit it from the back and I get to watch you when you cum.  I like the face you make.  Bite your lower lip. Damn, I know the feeling. Yea, that face.  Are you ready tonight to make another face?  No more vodka, let's get some henny skip the chase.  We've only known each other for a little over a week but it seems way longer than that--at least twelve days.  It's been 20 hours of sex done in 10 different ways, a couple hours of conversation between each lay.  We've bonded, we're good, if I don't hit you back--I lost my phone, come ring bell #2.  Who cares what this is?  It is what it is.  And it's more than good.  Who cares about the past?  That shit is over.  We about to blast.  Like when you pop off.  After I suck and ride til we get our rocks off.  Next year.  Everything is gonna be diamond: IF D color clear. I can't wait.  It's getting late. I'm about to take a shower. And get ready for you to give it to me daddy.  Gonna get dressed in something special.  If you liked what I had on last night.  Wait til you see me.  You gonna be singing, "There goes my baby.  Ooo girl, look at you."  No, look at you.  I see you.  Body right from the gym after getting on your L. Ferrig. Damn you my nig.  This is crazy. Hot and wet and we ain't even done nothing yet.  I got another hour left.  Hurry up. We need to make a tape. The shit is so...yo...even with my vocab I can't even properly articulate.  Can you relate?  I wish I could show you.  But I won't.  But tune in tomorrow, I can't show but I can tell.  Hope your night ends well.  'Cause mine will.   Yup!

Monday, August 30, 2010


Immigrate legally and pay your taxes or go home.  Please don't come with the lame: they take jobs nobody wants. I will pull out my old Economics Labor textbook and slam you on your head with it.  I don't want to hear about Columbus either and what land used to belong to whom.  People keep claiming other racial groups need to get over past transgressions and you should too.  I do believe the immigration laws are racially biased and that needs to stop.  Instead of arguing emotionally focus on reform.  My mouth will be agape if I get a pathos free, logically constructed opposing comment.

Sunday, August 29, 2010


Who wants one?  I have about two years of experience and my accuracy to those who have allowed me to read for them has been proclaimed uncanny.  I can't back up that claim, I just try to do my best.  I take breaks from reading but lately the spirit has been calling me.  If you want a reading hit me up for further information @ twylanonsequitur@gmail.com or message me on Facebook.  Please don't ask questions that require specific names, or questions about your health or finances.  There are experts for those: psychics, doctors and financial advisers.  I am none of them but what I am able to do is predict a reasonable outcome by reading the energies surrounding a particular event.

The only fee I am charging is for you to give feedback on your reading by commenting on this post.  You can post anonymously and say what you feel: that was helpful or wow you suck.  

Please allow approximately 24 hours for a response.


One of my favorite Facebook friends posed the question: Have you ever told someone all of your deep dark secrets?  Well, I don't have any deep dark secrets.  I have deep dark thoughts but I am too lazy and tired to act on them.  People love to tell me their deep dark secrets.  I'm not talking petty stuff either.  I believe it's because they are subconsciously picking up on my deep dark thoughts and feel they found in me a kindred spirit.  But, I'm not.  While I am egging you to go on, my nose is wrinkled up at your stories.  I love to hear your stories, but at the same time I hate them too.  It's both fascinating and frightening to realize there are people like you in this world .  I wish I could stop the world and let you off.


One of my favorite posters alerted me to a new scam originating from Nigeria: Romance Scams.  Nigerian men obtain pictures of attractive men and women and troll the internet on the search for victims.  Their purpose is to win your heart and help you depart with some cash.   Dateline did an investigation on this Nigerian man who bilked this guy out of 44K while purporting to be a white model named Wendy.  The Nigerian found this idiot in a chat room and proceeded to romance him with fake pictures, and e-mails written in poorly constructed, non-coherent sentences.  I guess the English didn't matter, as long as the Nigerian wrote the words sex and breasts, he was understood.  The man was married and was ready to dump his wife for this sexy new piece.  Too bad, the sexy white model was a thirty something Nigerian man.  Lmao, he got what he deserved.

Yes, they are con artists.  Yes, they are predators.  And yes, they are hilarious.  If you fall for these silly men you are not a victim you are an accomplice.  You are bored and they want your money.  Sounds to me like free trade.  The stories they tell are ridiculous.  Use your brain. Why would a white female model be stranded in Nigeria?  How come every time this woman is supposed to visit you she mysteriously gets into an accident and needs you to wire her thousands of dollars?  I just don't even see how what they do is illegal.  There should be no prosecution and justice for the stupid.

I remember years ago there was this guy who liked me.  He called me one day all excited about this money making opportunity he stumbled upon.  The deal was so sweet, and because he cared about me; he told me he would let me in. He met me at the gym to pitch the idea, and thrust in front of me with pride what he called an official document.  It was an e-mail asking him to send his name, social security and bank account number to the Vice Chancellor of Nigeria to free Princess Zamunda and her million dollars.  Poor Princess Zamunda was being held captive in Ghana and needed his help.  In exchange for his assistance, he would be handsomely rewarded.  All he had to do was set up twenty bank accounts for them to send the money.  The process was simple: open up the accounts and send the bank cards and information to them.  That was all that was needed to be done on his end.   After they freed the Princess and her money, for his help he would receive 10%--100,000 dollars.   When he showed me the e-mail, he scared me.  I thought he was trying to kill me.  I thought he was the one who typed up that e-mail and he was trying to do me in.  But he showed me further correspondence and I realized he was a clown.  Even though nothing this so-called Vice Chancellor of Nigeria wrote to him made sense, this guy believed he was corresponding with this power diplomatic official, who needed help from little old him.  The Vice Chancellor told him that he was very smart and if they were successful in this venture, there would be many more to come.   I told the guy you might want to investigate this further, it seems a little suspect, no?  Is there even really a Princess Zamunda?  Why don't you google her?  He said, no--I am smart and I can do this.  He was offended by my suggestion.  Well, okay. You do that.  My good deed was done.

I don't know what happened to that guy and I don't care.  He should have known better.  All of you should know better.  It's your own greed and ego that causes you to be scammed, don't blame it on the Nigerians.

More laughs here:

Saturday, August 28, 2010


You asked me about part three.  And though I could talk about Thursday and how we did it, I'm ready to move on to another part of our story.  Yea, it was stupendous; the attraction between us is momentous, that part of us is consistent, now let's see where else we can go and to what distance.  I see you are a teacher and you have made a lesson plan for me.  I have tests that I must pass, an incorrect response to one of your fictitious scenarios will fail me.  I could do that too, and we can both play charades without a clue.  How does that sound?  Keep them coming if it's cool.  Now I have no plans for us.  But I can't help it, like you said I am always thinking.  I'm too hot to play it cool, too fast to play it slow, too focused to just see where it goes.  But I have no plans.  I need you to alleviate my cognitive dissonance.  Whatever you want will be met with no resistance.  So I'll mark this to be continued.  You tell the story and I'll transcribe it...


Someone asked me why I didn't have any friends from elementary school and the like as Facebook friends.  I did originally think about searching for some and adding them, but after I saw their picture I thought, "Who cares?"  I haven't seen them for years and whatever memories I've had of them have long faded.  If they were that important to my life, I wouldn't have to search for them; they'd be already here.  I don't want to surround myself with dead weight, I gotta keep it light to keep it moving.  I don't need a whole bunch of superfluous people around me, just good friends.  I've had a lot of friends in life, most were for the proverbial: season and reason.  I had good times with them, but there are very few people I would consider a good friend.  A good friend to me is someone you can build with.  If we don't have any common goals or interests, we can associate, but you can't be a good friend.  A good friend to me is someone you can grow with.  If we have been having the same conversation for ten years--I'll still consider you cool peoples, but you can't be a good friend.  A good friend to me is someone who is stable.  If you are one way on Saturday and another way we get around your friend Jay--I'll see you next Saturday, that's what's up, but you can't be a good friend.  A good friend is someone when you are with them there is no ego.  If I have to front and compete; I'd rather throw up the peace sign and retreat.  I can go on ad infinitum, but I'd prefer to keep it to the point.  I'm really just giving you me, the same way you are giving me you.  I see everything.  If you have questions about our friendship, you don't have to dissect me, just look at you.  You'll see everything.

Shout out to all my Good Friends.  I'd be happy if that list only contained me, because I see you.


I have a good friend named Mike and he is a magician.  Not an illusionist like David Blaine or Crys Angel but a real live magician--if he speaks it, it exists, if he thinks it, it exists.  The frequency of these occurrences are uncanny, he's not a student of the New Age--I doubt he's read The Secret or cares about the Law of Attraction.  Those books filled with terminology, he doesn't need them.  What could they teach him? He has real power.  I'm dead serious, he could charge by the hour.  Let me tell you, what you work for, he just gets.  He told me he was retiring at a ridiculously young age and I laughed.  He barely worked enough to retire from anything but somehow he did.  I've also seen his life take some crazy turns, and he said and thought those turns too.  I watch him think and speak into existence the construction, and then I sit back and watch him map out the destruction.  I know you had something to do with what happened to that lady whose name sounds like a drink.  Not directly, but there was probably a correlation between what happened to her and what you were thinking.  What a waste of time, you have to control those energies.  Let me do that for you.

Here is something to focus on: THINK AND SPEAK US RICH.

Thursday, August 26, 2010


My anticipation of a good lay was willed into fruition earlier today by the three minute hour brother: this is the remix. Yo, Check it:  When I met you baby it was crazy.  You were talking but I wasn't hearing what you saying.  All I could think of was you on top of me and me on top of you. And what we were gonna do.  The first time popped off a minute after we said, "Hi."  I was planning to go the good girl route but that would have been a lie. Good Girl, Bad Girl, fuck them both if I played by the rules, I would have been a Sad Girl. Give me a second to get sappy--I gotta tell you: your smile makes me happy, pappy.  I love your body, you a hottie. We here and we ready.  C'mon, let's go.  I knew what I wanted--no need for fronting, I'm flexible but not up for stunting.  Two years reset in 60 seconds.  You were in me before I knew what was coming.  Yea, you came quick, but I did too the moment I backed up on the dick. Did you feel it?  I get wet enough ain't no need for spit.  I can't believe this shit.  It's so intense: can you handle it? Yea, you did.  Time fast forwarding in slow motion.  It's possible I was wrong.  The sex was still good enough to warrant my first song.  I love the way I can make you cum with a kiss.  I understand you finishing soon ain't a diss.  I knew if we slowed it down you could do this.  No need to rush, babe, we can ease into this.  Love ain't going nowhere--to get it, you just gotta send me a text message. Let me know when you around the way, I'll hit you back, "K."  Three hours, three minutes, it's all the same when you don't want something to finish.  And last night I was finished.  I was done on the bed, over in the shower.  I hit the wall gripping the wall as you were tearing up my walls.  Can I tell you something? Listen: You the fucking best.  My favorites are the hickeys on my chest. You nailed it, killed it, beat it up and split it.  Then mended it, I surrendered it.  Did you feel it heat up when you said let's tantric it?  I read about it, wrote about it, but until you I didn't know nothing about it.  The sex was magickal.  We cast a spell, now let's make a wish: MUTHAFUCKAS WE RICH. Yup!  I died and was born again twisted up in love stained sheets.  I knew we had the beat, all that was missing was a two part harmony.  Take that. Take that. Yea, I'll say your name: MM, baby, that was the remix.

And tomorrow you better wake up to go running.  Operation Upgrade, let's keep it coming.

Non Sequitur718

Wednesday, August 25, 2010


Nine years ago the world lost an angel. Her passing will be one commemorated with the question, "Where were you when you heard?", as it is with all of the greats. I was sleeping on my couch with the news on, the words delivering the message of her untimely passing floated through my subconscious--their meaning so unreal, they woke me up from a dream. I remember thinking, it couldn't be, it must have been a dream within a dream and what could it mean? I immediately called a friend who confirmed the sad news; I grieved. Grieved for her as I would a beloved family member or friend, for though I never knew her, baby girl was a friend in my head. I admired her music, her style and that beautiful hair. She was beautiful: gentle, tangible, and multifaceted. Unlike the cookie cutter pop stars of today, she was human. And though many will try to emulate, no one will ever come close--for the energy that was her is not one that can be contrived or duplicated. I remember you today, my dark angel, gone from us who are here now, yet right here just the same.

RIP Aaliyah, We miss you.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010


One of my favorite posters asked me to comment on this topic a couple of weeks ago in relation to the church.  As a non-church-goer, I can't speak with authority from that perspective but as a black woman I can comment on this topic in general.  What prompted me to revisit this topic was an ad on my sidebar on Facebook.  It was for an e-book entitled, SHE'S A HOT MESS: WHY 70% of BLACK WOMEN ARE SINGLE.  As part of that percentage, the title did pique my interest.  I read the teaser and the not quite historically correct lesson that was given.  The atrocities stated were real but please death to the Willie Lynch fable. 

I will say, I do think "SHE'S A HOT MESS" is a misnomer, the problem lies with the men.  I love black men, really I do.  Even when I say I'm going to "date out" it's with you I find the most comfort.  In the company of black men I feel completed, you get me--no explanation needed.   But y'all are so damn  trifling complicated.  Why do I have to worry about how many baby mommas you are hiding, or is that woman I suspect you are creeping with really a guy? 

Seriously the DL lifestyle has to end.  It's 2010 no need to pretend.  Case in point:

This picture was sent to me by my #1poster, it was featured on a popular entertainment blog.  By the body language, I assumed the men were gay, no big deal, but to my surprise these men wrote in to proclaim they were straight.  C'mon son, who you fooling?  Not me, maybe you.  Not only is there a large number of black men that are sexually duplicitous, the man on man sex they partake in is usually unsafe.  I'll be unPC and say I do feel that you are the reason for the burgeoning African American HIV rate.

If you like men or trannies, then just be real and say it.  It's better to live, if I find out about either one--I'm going to kill you anyway.  There are women who are open to bi/gay men, leave me alone and go find one: no negative judgement for you, but for me--I judge and deem it as not my thing.

Now I hear the new thing is open marriages.  If my husband and I are going to date, I'd rather stay single.  I'm going to get married, to finally end the whole meat market charade that is the dating game, just to be put back on the track with my postnatal body--no thanks.  I'd rather get divorced and do that.  Like I'm going to answer the phone and say to my man, "Honey, telephone. It's your girlfriend, Sheila."

They say monogamy is not natural, says who?  I used to say that too; it was a comforting excuse.  There are some committed men, I say it and for me there will be.  If you don't believe it, I can't speak for you.

I would like to know what is the mentality behind open marriages? Please don't reference animals, they exist on instinct, your mental capacity allows you a greater ability to reason and think.  Higher Reasoning: Use it or Get Screwed By It.  Society as it exists today can't economically support multiple wives and kids for most.  You do know polygamous societies call for the man to be financially responsible for each household?  It's not just about the right to put it in a different hole each night.  I'll be damn if money is taken out of my kid's mouth to give to the next, yup, I'll say it: bitch.  I don't want to hear how devolved and prudish I am, and how can I comment--I don't even have a man.  Well from what you are saying, I can have yours too.  So what do you really have, to me: someone common and openly shared--nothing special.

Back to my black men: I know many of you didn't have a positive male role model growing up and I understand, me too.  But just show me what you need from a woman; I'll be that.  I'll show you what I need from a man; you be that.  We might not of had examples but if we come together for each other; we'll be that.

To the lucky fathers: be a father to your child, your child is a reflection of you--gaze at that reflection with love and pride.  Remember you will be old someday too, you will want someone to return the favor: feeding you apple sauce and wiping up your drool. 

To the women: get your priorities straight: looks and swag don't make a good mate.  I like them too but if they exist on your list, they should be on the lowest end.  Don't turn down a good man because he isn't "fine", dresses a certain way or doesn't speak the latest slang.

#1 Priorities for me: Good Character, Compatible Personality and the ability to provide.  Yes, money is non negotiable.  I'm on my way to get mine, you should have already or have a plan to get yours.  I don't eat ramen noodles, only organic food.

So that's my take.  Comments Please: Do you agree?  Disagree?  And what did I miss?

Monday, August 23, 2010


My anticipation of a good lay was thwarted to my dismay by the three minute brother.  I guess the pussy was too tight, it was cute how you tried to fight.  I told you, you couldn't handle it.   My back shot is a death shot, five strokes in and you popped off like a glock.  I wasn't watching the clock.  But damn, just when it started to get good, you faked on me dude. How rude. I think you owe me something. You got yours but what did I get?  All the foreplay was fine but what I really wanted was to ride the...Did you like the way I sucked your dick?  I know you did.  Instead of trying to hide it--next time you are about to cum-- how about a little communication, son.  When the pressure threatens to erupt, that's when it's time to pull up.  It's alright, baby.  For you, I'll hold a class. Show you how I want you to put it on this fine ass. Yup!  I got skills that I can teach ya. You got the rhythm, now let me do the remix.  Hot kisses, good looks, and a wicked tongue are keeping you in the game.  Next time I let you in, you better have me saying your name.

Or else my next post about you won't be so nice!

Yours truly,
Non Sequitur718

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Dr. Laura: White People and the N-Word.

I don't have a long dissertation to write on this topic.  If you don't understand why black comedians can use the n-word and you can't, I suggest you take a trip to the "hood" and address the first group of young black men you come across cloistered around the liquor store as "Nigger" and see what happens.  Now replay the situation and replace me with you.  Do you see the difference?

Just as a child can't use grown folks language, you as a white person can't use black people's language.

What I want to know is why are you hell bent on using the word?  The outrage expressed by not being able to use the word is pathological.  You know the history behind it, you created it.  You didn't give black people reparations so let us have our n-word.  We will argue amongst each other over the appropriateness of its use.

I would not address a bunch of unknown gay men as "faggot" because I know it could be potentially offensive.  And guess what?  I don't want to.  I would be cool with never using the word faggot again in life.  In general, I would be okay with never using a pejorative word for a group that I do not belong to.  It doesn't bother me that gay men can use it freely and I can't.  I'm not a member of that group and membership has its hindrances and its privileges.

So for all you white people that are just dying to say the word nigger-- check the stats.  Would you really want to be a nigger?  I thought so.  Now shut the fuck up.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

P-Star Rising

One of my good friends and I share my Netflix account. Our tastes vary dramatically: I prefer horror and thrillers, he watches documentaries. He is always trying to get me to watch a food industry expose or the expedition of some unknown person doing some who cares thing, so I usually ignore his movies viewed list until today one caught my eye: P-Star Rising.

P-Star Rising is the documentary of nine year old Priscilla Star Diaz's, the youngest female rapper, rise to fame. My first thought was to roll my eyes and mutter, "Oh brother." But as the documentary went on I had to give mamita her respect, to perform on stage in front of adults at nine--you can't diss. She was cute, yea, but she had that special something that made you want to watch and I'm glad I did.

It was a compelling movie: the long lost crackhead mother, the pushed aside learning disabled older sister, the father trying to live vicariously through his kid, but the stage belonged to Priscilla because she is most definitely a star:

Everybody loved P-Star, including her managers who looked like they had a countdown on her jail bait p-star.

She made my ovaries jump.  Instead of shaking my head as I watched her father blow through her 10K advance, I started to calculate.  With my business acumen, and the personality of that kid, there would be no way I we couldn't win.  In the near future, I'll be birthing my own superstar.

I can see it right now, and in about ten years, you will too.

We owe it all to little Priscilla Star Diaz for sharing her dream with us: Good Luck P-Star! Just keep your lil p-star on lock and we'll see you on top.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Rick Ross - Free Mason feat. Jay-Z

I was asked to review this and presumably speak on Jay Z being a freemason. Well the man said in the song he's amazing and not a mason so I'll defer to him. Primarily because I don't care what he is. Freedom of religion, freedom of speech, he is free to do him.

Rick Ross - (BMF) Blowing Money Fast (LYRICS) Mp3 Download [Fan made]

I was asked to review this song. I don't know why, he sounds fat and stupid. So that is my review: fat and stupid.

J. Cole - Who Dat

Someone told me he was hot. I don't know about that, he has some lukewarm appeal probably because I'm partial to young niggas and yella niggas and he is both. The production is decent and he has a flow but, nah son. This was one of those songs the more I heard it the less I liked it. He sounds like he's done a good job imitating but has no style of his own to claim.

It doesn't matter though--the way hip hop is these days, I'm sure he'll be a shoo-in for 106 and Park.

I read that in ten years he'll be one of the greats; possibly if over the next ten years his life experiences give him a sound and something to say.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Kanye West - See Me Now (Feat. Beyonce & Charlie Wilson) [CDQ]

Retraction: I took five listens and I loved it--had to grow on me.


Another slow day and the most interesting thing to talk about is Fantasia. This song is just awesome and the pictures of her on the video are even better.

All you lucky side pieces out there, wave your lighters in the air!


Beware of the vampires amongst us, they are not trying to suck your blood, they want your energy--they are trying to consume your soul.

"The psychic vampire is a person in whom this flow is perpetually imbalanced and therefore they boost their own levels by contact with other people and "absorb" that energy for themselves. You will most likely recognize the signs of psychic vampires. They are the individuals who need constant attention, sympathy, or reaffirmation of their worth. They are the often belligerent people we meet who demand they be noticed and obeyed; the ones who waste our time being made to give them our attention or else."


Stay away--I'm going to crucify you.

Are you one?

Sunday, August 15, 2010


I looked around and I don't see none. (I know any, double negative used for effect) There is no one out I want to celebrate--except for my #1VivaLaBeyonce and she is on a break. I checked Mediatakeout,Bossip et al to lend my commentary on the news today. The only thing that was interesting was big mouth Kanye.

No, Kanye, Swizzy is not the #1 Producer of all time. You just want to start some shit, I know you really don't mean that. I'd put you over him, sometimes your beats are just epic. Like they could be the score of something colossal and great: Paradise Lost the Remix.

Swizzy, I like him too though, he has something but nothing incredible. His beats are infectious but just not memorable. His sound is signature and still I draw a blank.

And as far as Nicki Minaj being the 2nd best rapper of all time: lay off the yayo, 'Ye.

Fantasia's suicide attempt, new CD, married boyfriend in the park pictures: Who cares.

Hope tomorrow is better than today.


I used to look for love...When I was bored. I was looking for something and love sounded good. I remember someone told me the importance of love is to have someone accept and really know you. Huh?

I didn't want that. Your imperfect self accepting me does nothing for me. What I really wanted was just a co-conspirator in my misery.

And then one day something opened up. And I found something: love. Not that accept yourself, flaws and all, raise your self esteem type love. What I found was much greater than that: real love.

Someone who can read between the lines knows what I mean and for those who can't; just assume something--it doesn't matter to me.

So now I have no time for you--I can't cheat on me.

Now I just need some money...Lots and lots and lots of money...Flow to me...


"You hate the law, nigga break it, I don't care. And when ya get caught, remember that I don't care." Noreaga, Superthug

The quote above pretty much sums up how I feel about people. I judge internally, yes. I think to myself, "Would not be for me." But I vocally neither parent or moralize. When I try to do either I feel out of alignment with myself--I can't take on the burden of saving someone from themselves. I've tried that before, you were way too heavy.

Besides, it is not my job to calibrate anyone's moral compass. I can't lead you while I'm trying to direct me.

It's up to you to decide what is right from what is wrong. We are all adults here. You know what you should or should not be doing, so if you want to do it anyway--then just do it.

If you ask for my opinion, I'll give it to you: the one you want to hear.
If you ask me to co-sign, I'll give it to you: if that's what you want to hear.
If you ask me for my advice, I'll give it to you: the kind that will help you win.

Have it your way--whatever you want, I'll give it to you. Just make you sure you know your way.

The intent and action were all yours and so are the consequences--get it how you live it.


I don't innately have it. I want everything quick, fast and in a hurry. Life for me is like the tortoise and the hare. I always start out going 100mph and then somewhere in the middle conk out and go to sleep. When I wake up, everyone has passed me by.

One of the many keys to unlock the proverbial door of success in your life is to take stock of what lessons you need to learn. If you take the time to examine your life, you will see patterns. Lessons that weren't learned will crop up again and again as opportunities for you to finally get it right.

You want to move forward? Learn your lesson: I persevere.

“Patience and perseverance have a magical effect before which difficulties disappear and obstacles vanish.” John Quincy Adams

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Depeche Mode - Enjoy The Silence original (not live)

This song is so chronicling the ending of my now dead book. Music is so powerful: it can transport you in an instant to another time, place, or state of being. I'm contemplating a reconciliation...

Erasure Oh L'Amour

Don't you dare compare Antony and the Johnsons to my beloved Erasure. Blasphemy!

The Cure - Just Like Heaven

Antony and the Johnsons? I think not!


I like this song. I didn't at first, I remember I dissed it but now I do. I like the demonic feel to it.

Celia Cruz Sound Check! - Zaire '74 (Guantanamera)

This is a classic. Everyone like this one, Gabe.

Antony And The Johnsons - Cripple And The Starfish

My friend told me to check them out. I did. This song was painful. I couldn't make it through two minutes. I don't like miserable music sang by scary looking white people. I like music about sex, murder and drugs sang by scary looking black people.


Wherever you are: you belong.  If you leave and come right back: you belong.  If the only thing that separates you from you and your environment is your better than ideal: you belong.

I listen to people proclaim various aspects of their lives as, "not being me".  But it is; if it wasn't you, you wouldn't be there.  If that man wasn't you, you wouldn't have dated him.  If that situation wasn't you, you wouldn't have involved yourself in it.  If those people you associate with weren't you, you wouldn't have associated with them. 

Think about it, the times in your life that you were put in situations that truly weren't you--you left.

So please, if you are in it, then you are with it.  You can tell yourself whatever you want, but you belong and you are just like them.

Friday, August 13, 2010


I love you, you were my first. I had such high hopes for us and still do, but my hopes were just hopes and now reality has my dreams dashed and with a heavy heart I utter these words--we must break up.

I gave you my all and you gave me your all, but our all was not all, after all. It was but a sum and a sum is a part, and a part is not enough to make a whole.

Don't despair, we both took it as far as we could go and now--we must break up.

A piece of me still clings to you and again that hope creeps up hoping we can make it through but each day that passes once again reveals the painful truth--we must break up.

I give to you that piece of me that clings to you, you keep it; it doesn't serve me--I can't put the piece to use.

Maybe in due time, we can once again combine in synergy, with not just our hopes aligned, but the stars will shine and our will, will pull us through, but for now--we must break up.

I learned a lot with you: lessons that will be applied to another, the mistakes we made will be rectified with another but all will attributed to you. I thank you.

I have to prove to myself I can make it; that it's not me, it's you.

I must move on to another. I can't do that emotionally tethered to you.

Well that was fun: like everything with you, I got to break every literary rule and now we are officially broken up.


One of my posters wanted me to comment on the video below:


I couldn't directly embed the video, so just copy the link and paste it into your browser to view.

The last time I went to church was when I was fifteen because my cousin told me that was the only way she'd let me borrow her miniskirt--so I'm admittedly probably not the best person to comment on this video, but here it goes:

I don't know if the church keeps black women single, but I do know those men in the video were atrocious. That's why I think so many black women are single, atrocious looking and acting black men.

Why y'all gotta look and act like that?

My goodness get it together.

Eminem - Love The Way You Lie ft. Rihanna

Give Chris Brown his job back. If Rihanna can dance around in her panties and tights with admitted wife beater Eminem in a video depicting domestic violence, singing, "I like the way it hurts,"; then surely Chris Brown can be forgiven.


Thought it's not the most economically prudent thing to do, sometimes the words: I QUIT! feel so good.

Steven Salter, the JetBlue Flight Attendant, is my hero; I especially liked the part when he grabbed two beers on his way out and activated the emergency chute and slid down: Gangsta.  Someone really should have had their phone recording all of the fun, the footage would have been hilarious.  For those unfamiliar with the story, the link is here:
JetBlue Flight Attendant Grabbed Two Beers Before Fleeing Onboard Scuffle

How rich: not mentioned in this story is that when the police came to arrest him, he was having sex.  It makes the story even better that on further consideration, he would like his job back.  I think they should rehire him.  He is good PR.  I'm sure all future passengers will adhere to the overhead luggage rule after this.

I thought I had some good quitting stories, but Steven--I am his bitch.  My best quitting story was when I had the boss sign my paycheck and then waited until lunch to bounce.  "I'll be back in a half an hour," I called over my shoulder on my way out.  Yea right, to have you sitting there looking stupid waiting for me was my plan.  Well, you always sat and looked stupid, but this time you did so waiting for me.

Ahahaha...I could just imagine the talk around the office, "Where is she? Is she coming back?"

Meanwhile, I was a few blocks away eating pizza with my friend and talking about how much I couldn't stand you.  Everyone else was cool, except for you.

Quitting a job without a backup is not smart, but I was lucky; after taking a break, I got a new job in exactly one day. 

Even if I didn't get employed right away, while eating ramen noodles and begging people for rent money, the imagined look on your face would have had me feeling rich.  Telling someone to kiss your ass: priceless.

Thursday, August 12, 2010

30,000 show up for Section 8 Housing Applications in Atlanta.

30,000 people stood in line for 455 Section 8 Applications in 90 degree weather. They gave out 13,000. There were fights. A woman went into labor. Children were trampled. There were cases of heatstroke. It was acknowledged there will be applicants on the waiting list forever. They could have closed the line after the 3,000th applicant. Why did they let the line grow to that proportion?

It's to laugh at us.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


Up until maybe 2000, I loved hip hop.  I remember the very last CD I bought: Mos Def: Black on Both Sides.  That was the last good year and though there have been a few vapors here and there for the most part: Hip Hop is Dead.

For the mainstream, we have Kanye and though people hate on Weezy, at times I dig his word play, and Killa Cam when he wants to knows how to get on a beat and skate.  As a writer, I prefer my prose to flow, so I see the talent.  Drake, remains to be seen, though some of his music is catchy--I really don't see anything...

But he is new school, and I am cool school, so for me--Hip Hop is Dead.

I went to a family reunion and they played that song, "Teach me how to Dougie,".  It was cute watching the kids dance, but I remember when MC Hammer made his cheesy dance music-- how we laughed and laughed.  Sure people danced to it, but it was understood that he was whack.

But now such music is considered hot, a sure sign that: Hip Hop is Dead.

For all aspiring rappers keep trying, it's not that hard to make it anymore: just hang your pants low, get a decent beat and come up with a correlating dance.


The other day I was walking to the train station, when I was approached by a young man driving beside me.

"Hey, Miss Pank! Yo, Miss Pank!"  I was wearing a pink shirt, dutifully ignoring his calls as he hung his head out the passenger side window.

Unperturbed by my lack of interest, the young man continued.

"Mami, you one of the sexiest girls out here.  I see dem legs in dem shorts."  Um, shut up and tell me something I already don't know.  And while doing so, say it in Standard English.

He stopped his car and go out and to my shock--he was attractive: in good shape, tall, nice looking face.  Not something you see everyday, he had potential.

We conversed (yes, conversed not conversated) for a few minutes and I made sure to enunciate every word and pump up the vocabulary to see if he would code-switch and follow suit.  He didn't; he couldn't speak Standard English.

I love colloquialisms: I pepper my writing and speech with them everyday--when used correctly they give language color and add flavor.  But a little slang here and there, a regional accent or dialect is not the same as not being able to speak Standard English.

A man of any age that can only speak and write using the words "dem, dat, wut, uses double negatives, has a limited vocabulary and lacks knowledge of basic grammar," is so unattractive.  If you are under twenty-five, I'll give you a pass and hope you grow out of it.  If you are over the aforementioned age, grow up, you are not a kid.  It doesn't give the impression of youth speaking that way but rather: loser.

To the youth, I implore you, by the time your quarter-century mark hits, learn how to speak Standard English; and while doing so, please pull your pants over your ass--walking around with your butt hanging out looks like you have something to say: Insert here. 

That looks ugly and ridiculous!

Tuesday, August 10, 2010


I like to write the dark and twisted for the same reason middle class suburban kids like rap--It's not my life.  My curiosity is both morbid and perverse.  And though I don't want to be a hack, I do need a stack; so after I finish my second book, I think I'll write a love story.  How boring.  Love stories don't move me or woo me; I had my fill of them as a preteen reading Harlequin Romance.  I want to write what I love, but in doing so I'll have to work doing what I hate; so I think I'll write a love story.  It'll be a good story, maybe even a sexy story but one thing is that it won't be based in fantasy and filled with cliches.  It'll be realistic.  It'll mirror the relationships I have witnessed.  Not the ones I have been in because that book would be: boring.  So perhaps I'll be able to write the dark and twisted after all--yea...I'll think I'll write a love story:

I think I'll write a love story:

A story that is not fantasy but reads like a dream
A story of a woman that finds the king to her queen (Only one queen allowed)
A story of a king that would rather die than have sex other men (Trannies are men too)
A story of a man that does not lie or pretend (I hate it when men lie about their professions)
A story of a love that is elevating not debasing(If you can't rise to my level don't try to bring me down)
A story of romance not sought but found by chance(I refuse to scour clubs, the internet and bars)
A story of a couple that grows together (If I can't make money with you then eff ya)
A story that will have to be read to be continued (Buy the book y'all)
I think I'll write a love story

Sunday, August 8, 2010


And I will be a prolific writer; right now I am told I write well. I am always grateful when people praise my writing.  I have only been writing since May (of course I've written things my whole life but I mean writing more than memos and e-mails) so right now I am experimenting with word play.  I try to mimic emotions by the way I twist my words, from my outside to your inside.  People say you sound so angry/sad/serious there, which is good because usually when I write I am laughing--I'm new to it, it's all in fun.

Words are symbols and signs. One day my soul will open up and I will not just write them; I will evoke them. 


I am judgmental.  I can't help it.  I tried not to judge and in the process I became a liar.  See, I kept my opinions to myself and instead deferred to yours--I told you what you wanted to hear and became a fraud.  In private, my judgments of you came out and in person you saw them in my ever shifting moods and perspectives.

I am opinionated. I am vocal. I am discerning. I am judgmental.

I apologize; I did try but we just can't see eye to eye.  I googled your perspective and I read them and honestly they all sounded like you: rationalizing, avoiding and full of psychosis.

I can't associate with you anymore--your confusion is confusing.  You're so topsy turvy; the motion is making me nauseous.

In order to fully relate to you, I would have to lose myself.

It's not that I was trying to make you feel bad.  But if you are trying to hide from the truth, when you are hit with it you won't feel good.

And if you are reading this: I will keep my mouth shut.  But I do think you are gay.  You said you sucked penis and you loved it.  Embrace it, it's never going away.

Saturday, August 7, 2010


Life is in the now.  All we know for sure is here, what happens next: who knows.  The only language I know is English, so I am unable to read any ancient texts.  Sure there are translations but translations are versions and we all know if you ask 50 people to tell their version of an event, you will get 50 different stories.  Besides even in the original texts, many parts are omitted and an incomplete story can't possibly tell the whole truth.

As far as quantum physics and the afterlife, I'm not even going to go there--I dropped physics in high school and single variable calculus kicked my ass(any class that requires more than fifteen minutes of studying before a test will kick it).

Reincarnation is not a concept I fully understand.  I read a book on left hand path tantra that states you can be reincarnated as an ant.  According to this aghori, the last thing you were thinking of before you die is what you will be.  This man was thinking about how much he wanted to eat a mango, died, and was reincarnated as an ant on the fruit.  Sounds pretty far fetched but no more far fetched than any other religious myth. I have also read that once a human, you will always be reincarnated as a human.  Ant, human, who can definitively say which one is true, I guess pick the version that best suits you--no animal or insect for me.

So all I know is: Life is in the Now.  You can make your now heaven, or you can make your now hell, it's up to you: free will.  This is not to say that things won't happen to you that are out of your control-- because they will, but while you have your druthers about you make it do what it do.

I'll borrow the 80/20 principle.  80 percent of what happens in your life is in your control: by either how you choose to react to a situation, the lifestyle you lead, and whether you choose to hold onto negative events, or stay in places, with people or in situations that don't serve you. 20 percent is out of your control: illnesses, violent crimes and other catastrophic events.

My favorite quote from the Qu'ran, which I actually heard on that TV show Sleeper Cell, was said when this jihad girl who was a nanny complained about her employer sexually harassing her.  The character she complained to, Darwin, hit her with a quote from the Qu'ran as a response (I'm paraphrasing a paraphrase so this is just the gist): Allah gave you this whole world as yours.  Why do you choose to stay in a place that does not serve you?

He then went on to kick her employer's butt, but he was right.  She chose to stay in that situation, she could have left but she wanted to stay and be fondled so she could be a terrorist.

In conclusion: Make the best of what you have today, nobody knows for sure what happens next.  Hey who knows, maybe this is the afterlife.

Friday, August 6, 2010


There is nothing wrong with having someone to aspire to and this girl is mine.  I first saw her picture in this guy's signature on a message board and I copied it.  I have never done anything like that, there are plenty of girls with nice bodies, but this one just resonated: she's like my #1 Viva La Beyonce on steroids.
Behold I present to you the BEST BODY IN THE WORLD:

Well to me it is, from her hair to her thighs: flawless.  I've been slacking on my workouts this week and I needed to see that.  Keeping my eye on the prize: 7:30AM a few yoga asanas, stretching, abs and three miles.  GET IT! GET IT!

Kanye West - POWER

I was always a lukewarm fan of Ye--I liked his music enough but wasn't necessarily a fan of his. After he hooked up with that bald beast Amber Rose and jumped on stage and told the truth about #1 Viva La Beyonce during the MTV Awards--he stole my heart. But truthfully I love this video, the creativity and all of its symbolism--Love it! Love it! Love it!


I was thinking about this statement and I agree it is true.  But not in the way people think, if you only want to see the good or positive in life you will, but that is not to say the negative or shadow will not exist in your reality--it will just be shut off from you.

I often meet interesting characters that have wild tales and shadow lives.  People always ask me, "Where do you meet this people?  I don't know anyone like this."  But you do, they just don't show you that side.  I don't meet people in odd places; I don't befriend transients--many of the people I meet are well educated, all are intelligent and they go to the same restaurants, clubs, gyms and attend the same universities as you do.  They are your relatives/friends/significant others-- it's just that I know some things about them that you don't.

People also ask me, "Why do people tell you these things?"  It is because I am open and willing to listen.  I like to hear and see it all-- not just the sweet dreams of the surreal.

It may not all be nice or that pretty but it's real and that's just reality.



This is all...


I think the Smith Kiddies are adorable, really I do.  Jaden is very talented and Willow, well...we'll see.
My only complaint is how they dress their kids.  Now here, I like this:

They look stylish, age appropriate and fresh.

Now this I don't like:

It's not because I'm hating because that's not even my style: in the fashion sense or personality wise--but it's because they look: too grown for Willow and for Jaden, stupid. 

My thing is if you are eating sushi, wearing couture, having designer fashion shoots, shaving the side of your head by the time of you are ten--what's left to do at twenty-one? 

I see why these rich/celebrity kids end up messed up--they have already been done seen that and the only thing for their bored jaded selves to do is some hood rat mess.

Don't we all remember the first time we cut our hair, wore a miniskirt, bought our first designer bag and the elation we felt as we proclaimed ourselves as grown?  That's the joy of youth and the life experience in general: successfully reaching milestones. 

Non Sequitur- It reminds me of that girl who peaked in high school that now looks like our mother...too much too soon.


Thursday, August 5, 2010


So, I am trying to shop a book and I need some help.  I have three main characters and the story is non-linear the first half, so I can pretty much open the novel with any character at any point in time.  When submitting a book to a literary agent, you submit a query letter explaining the project, as well as the first ten pages.  The first ten pages make or break you; this is challenging for me, as I have a bunch of different styles going on.  I copied and pasted three short excerpts of the main characters.  Please read each section and pretend you are a literary agent, if you came across these selections which character would you be interested in reading more of.  Kindly post your preference in the comment section.  Thank you! 

Tye: My favorite character and this is my current opening, it reads like urban fiction.
      Wearing depression like a cloak need rising in his body like mercury in a thermometer, Tye dressed for his solo mission.  Dark nondescript clothing, well worn sneakers and a low slung baseball cap were his gear of choice, nothing flashing to deter detection from both cops and robbers.  With $2,500 of his newly cashed paycheck dispersed throughout his person: $500 in each sneaker, $100 in his left pocket with the remainder stashed in a secret compartment in his pants just in case; Tye stepped out into the brisk night. 
            Unlocking the door to his black Mustang, Tye slid into the sports vehicle. 
            "I'm just going to get my drugs and go home,” Tye said to himself, surreptitiously avoiding his own gaze in the rear view mirror.  Tye could tell himself whatever he wanted, but the demon inside knew the truth and the lie could be seen in his eyes.
            Less than forty minutes later, Tye reached his destination and parked his car three blocks up from the spot.  Faraway enough from the roving eyes of the night creatures, close enough for a quick getaway in case the spot was hot tonight.  Paranoid, walking quickly, Tye approached the first woman he saw.
            "You holding?" Tye asked. 
            The woman looked him up and down, "You a cop?" she asked.
            "Nah man, you holding?" Tye repeated. 
            Anxiety permeated from him as he shifted from side to side while nervously looking over his shoulder.  If this bitch don't come the fuck on, he thought.  Damn she know me.
            The woman chuckled to herself.  She was teasing Tye. He always looked so nervous.  She thought the little joke might make him lighten up and relax, but it didn’t; he remained tense and serious.
            "Yea, you ain't no cop." "You a shook nigga," she said.  "How much you want?" 
            "Lemme get a dollar," said Tye. 
            "A dollar will make you holla," the woman said laughing.  "I ain't holding but I got work back at the crib."
            Desperate, Tye ignored common sense and followed the woman back to her apartment.  Ignoring the drug dealers, drug addicts, pimps, hoes and johns…the night creatures, Tye followed the woman watching her round ass switch back and forth with each swivel of her ample hips.  Need of a different kind rose in Tye, "I'm just going to get my drugs and go home," he repeated to himself like a mantra.  
SEAN: He is boring in the beginning but gets more interesting as the story progresses.  This is how he is first introduced:

Sean woke up at 5:00AM, just before the buzzer sounded on his preset alarm.   He always woke up before the alarm but still set it each morning as a precaution.  Sean was very cautious; his life experiences had taught him you always needed a backup plan--you never knew when life was going to throw you a curve ball.  Sean lived his life strategically.   He planned each of his moves like a chess game: examining each probable outcome and its result; choosing his course of action based on which would yield the most favorable outcome for him giving the situation.  Sean left nothing to chance. 

            Sean laced up his running sneakers; he had already dressed for his morning run from the night before.  He usually slept in his running clothes, a pair of shorts and t-Shirt in warmer weather, sweats and a hoodie on cooler days.  It was simpler that way, kept the routine consistent.  Sean learned this trick from his cross country coach at boarding school.  When Sean had first started the team he was consistently late, relying on the alarm clock to wake him up.  He would hit the snooze button at least two times before finally getting out of bed; then he had to find his running outfit and sneakers which took an extra fifteen minutes.   By the time he caught up with the rest of team he had to sprint the first mile and a half to catch up.  
 AJNA: She brings the magical realism element into the story. 

"Body in motion, she has curves like the Nile Ocean, twists and turns like the Mississippi River, her embankments crash into my delta, as she moved I felt her..."

            Ajna listened to the brother on stage at the weekly spoken word event at Cafe Angelie.  While not exactly poetic, what he lacked in skill he made up for in delivery.  His voice was full with a rich timbre, strong and confident.  She liked the sound of it.  Ajna listened closely and picked up on the undercurrent of vulnerability underneath the bravado.  She could do that; Ajna had the ability to see what was not apparently visible and hear the unsaid.  She allowed herself to be lulled by his voice: enjoying the sound, ignoring his words.

            She drank in the sight of him.  As he stood on the small stage, she examined him from head to toe twice and on her third look over; she paused.  She was arrested by his amber brown eyes.  His eyes spoke directly to her and commanded her to stop.  “Silence…Stop thinking and listen,” his eyes said to her.  They had something to say.   So she did.  Ajna cleared her mind and opened her heart.


Do you?  Do you take time out of the day for self reflection: get in touch with your thoughts, attitudes, behaviors, motivations and intentions.  If not, you should.  A lot of people concern themselves with the affairs of others and neglect themselves.  All of those comments, observations and judgments many of us partake in throughout the day of others are normal and actually healthy but would serve a far greater purpose if we would turn them inward.  I know the word judgment has a bad rap but the actual definition is neutral.  I judge myself all the time and am better for it.

It keeps me in touch with myself: where I am going and how I am feeling.  If I didn't, I would be meandering on the path of least resistance.  Taking that path will keep you afloat: the universe will provide the basics: a bowl of rice, a bed to sleep on and some shelter.  If you go with the flow you might even get lucky and catch a wave.

But I want more than that: I have to take the path least taken.

That was my self reflection of the day--What's yours?


So my favorite poster (okay I am aware there are only two: one is my #1 favorite and the other one is #1.05-- for all of you future Johnny Come-Latelies the spots for favorite are already full: remember in life the early adaptor gets the worm) wanted my commentary on the Lady Gaga drug use admission in September's Vanity Fair so here it goes:

I LOVE GAGA.  Well, I didn't always, when she first hit the scene I was like: who cares.  But she grew on me and after she paired with my #1 Viva La Beyonce she is now bestowed with #1 Viva La Beyonce status: she can do no wrong. True love is unconditional.

I already assumed she was on some type of drug:

So I was happy to hear she only does coke 200 along with E, LSD, shrooms  2 times a year now and says no to heroin.

Yes, since she had an admittedly bad Coke problem, she should probably refrain from using all illicit substances.  But I've seen former hard-core drug users manage their situations in different ways--some abstain completely, others just pare it down a bit. 

Yes, where is her publicist? Not a good PC admission but at least she keeps it real.

And for those that criticize her saying she will promote drug use amongst her young fans: if your child decides to snort coke because of Lady Gaga then, well, you are just a bad parent.  Don't blame her for your child's indiscretions that is your fault.  She didn't birth, feed, raise and name them--you did.

And besides isn't she supposed to be down with the Illuminati:

#6 of the Illuminati's 21 goals: To encourage, and eventually legalize the use of drugs and make pornography an "art-form", which will be widely accepted and, eventually, become quite commonplace.

And isn't she supposedly into Black Magic/Santanism:

So what do you expect?  Sounds like she is doing her job to me.


BTW, Gaga has a great butt:

Wednesday, August 4, 2010


My good friend is a fan of internet dating: he says there is strength in numbers.  He's told me wild stories of first night fistings and all types of debauchery.  Now he's getting up there and he is ready to settle down and instead of looking for a freak--this time he is using the internet to find his fair princess.  But just like women complain there are no good men, a lot of men say the same thing too--yes they have a higher quantity to sift through but the overall percentage of quality for both sexes is the same.

Two months ago there where four maidens that were vying for his attention and after he got laid off and had to give up his apartment (he never saves his money: spend: spend: spend) he was down to one.  This last woman standing was a nurse with aspirations of becoming a nurse practitioner that lived alone with her nine year old daughter.  She owned her own home, car and from their first conversation she was in love.  She wanted my friend to pack up and leave and move in with her and her kid across the country.  She had great plans for him: he could chill for the next couple of months and in December he would enroll in diagnostic imaging school and she would support him.

My friend was excited; he felt the only thing missing in his life was a good woman, a partner. Together they would save money, get degrees, part the Red Sea.  With this independent woman, he had it made in the shade.

I told him something must be wrong with her she seemed rather desperate.  Now my friend is an excellent conversationalist but to be that open on an unseen man, really?  Why would a woman willingly take on the burden of another mouth to feed?  She ain't heard that song, "Ain't nothing going on but the rent"?

Sidebar- Non sequitur718 singing: YOU GOTTA HAVE A J-O-B IF YOU WANT TO BE WITH ME!

Let's skip the fact that he was a stranger and could easily have been a pedophile rapist freak.

He told me a good woman will stand by her man and lift him up if need be.  Mmmmhmmm, let's skip the fact that he wasn't her man.  

They met once--she flew down to his state, paid for a hotel room and their meals, they had sex, all was cool. Since she seemed nice, and he had nothing left in his home state to lose; he took the trip across country, August 1st was the date of the big move.  I didn't hear from him the last few days and then he hit me with this text:

Him: Pleasantries, blah, blah, blah

Me: I started a blog

Him: Good. Put in there my best friend said, "If a bitch is interested in you when you have nothing and she seemingly has something; don't mess with her.  She's fucked up and broken.  Only a woman that thinks she is nothing would want a man who has nothing.  This is the filthiest bitch I've ever known and believe you me; I've known some filthy bitches.  I'm leaving on the next thing smoking!"


My relationships with my biggest losers in life were when I was at my lowest, so true.
The obvious and unnecessary lesson learned from this:

Fellas: don't expect Beyonce to come save you when you are lil Cease. The Beyonce's of the world don't want no scrub.

Ladies: Instead of finding a man to fix, fix yourself first.  If you are bored get a dog, learn a skill, find a hobby!


My favorite poster asked me to comment on this story so here it goes:

The gossip sites are all abuzz about this girl:
This classy young lady is Laurence Fishburne's daughter, Montana.  Now since she is of legal age I'm going to skip all the rhetoric: you are hoe, you are a disgrace, you are humiliating your father, your mother should have swallowed you--blah, blah...she's heard it all before and she obviously doesn't care.

Since many women who are in the sex industry have suffered some type of sexual abuse, if this is the case with her, I implore her to get professional help.  Expose your abuser for the animal that he is, do not expose yourself.

Now that I've done my PSA, I'm going to climb off of my soap box and give some helpful advice:

I read that her inspiration for this trifefest is Kim Kardashian.  Like Kimmy she wants to be famous for back shots and sucking dick.  The problem is that Kim Kardashian is white and Montana is black.  When a white girl has sex tapes "leaked" she is being naughty and risque; conversely when a black girl does it she's well being black.  As a black woman you are known for dropping it like it's hot, popping that pussy, shaking that ass girl--so you releasing a sex tape is: zzz....BORING...according to the media you are doing what you are SUPPOSED to do.  

If you really wanted to become famous and not just for fifteen seconds of LOLZ you should have won a Pulitzer Prize or something.  Now that would be shocking as it would illustrate that not only are you pretty, you were born into wealth and you have talent and can READ.  You would have been stuntin' on Kim, Paris and the rest of that ilk.  Homegirl, you messed up. 

As an indoctrinated member of the stripper/prostitute crew you need a weave.  Your idol Kim loves her extensions and you should too.  Next picture I see of you better have at least 18 inches of primo Remi well blended, flowing down your back.

You have money so choose a better venue.  I didn't watch all of Kim's sex tape but I doubt it featured scenes of her on a toilet seat.

Last but not least visit the MAC counter and get yourself some butt shots.  Look what it did for your idol Ms. Kimmy:  Big Improvement, Right?


Non Sequitur718